High-Fiving Palm Trees

Running, and other aspect of my life.

Fifty Shades of ****

on July 19, 2012

…continued

Fighting back my disappointment on finding that Christian Mike was still in the hotel, I forced myself to try to swallow a croissant. My mouth was so dry I barely tasted it as I choked it down.  The tension between us was almost a physical force.  I bit my lip, my eyes filled with tears, Holy crap it hurt!

I fled from the table, back to the buffet.  As I stood there, my cheeks began to redden, my subconscious told me that I was standing too close to the eye level toaster.  

I tried to call on my Inner Goddess for advice, but all I heard were a few gentle snores.  At least someone was getting her 8 hours sleep!

Going back to the BedRoom of Pain I collected my things. 

As I surveyed the crumpled sheets and remembered the 210 minutes of sleep I’d had in this bed I noticed Mike’s belt hidden under the bedding. Oh my! That must be why his trousers were hanging off his hips, in that way!  

I checked the bathroom one last time.  I flushed.

 

OK ENOUGH OF THIS!!! How that woman maintained this scintillating literary style for 3 whole books is beyond me!  Fair play though she’s made herself a fortune.  The mind boggles at how they plan to handle the film franchise though!

So, we left the hotel and went back to the underground carpark where Lord I. insisted on driving.  Luckily it was a lot easier getting the car out than it was getting it in.

We headed off in silence although I think we both wanted to think of something nice to say but neither one of us were going to be the first to crack.

We’ve always boasted about how easy the drives through France are.  No traffic, effortless driving etc.etc.  Well the Gods definitely decided to screw with us on this trip.

Once Lolita had got us back onto the motorway we went from one long traffic jam to the next  all the way to Calais.  We’d left the lovely weather of the South behind and it was raining.

I looked at the satnav screen and I’ve never seen SO MANY roadworks signs.  Fortunately this had one happy effect.  It brought us together in the face of adversity and we found ourselves agreeing on what bastards the other drivers were to all be on the road at the same time as us. Didn’t they know who we were??

The thaw began.

I know that Mike had actually had a bit of a shock when I bit back and told him to GO!  He was trying more than me to be nice and I was still really quite p’d off.

We eventually got to Calais to the Eurotunnel and to the Cité de Europe Shopping Centre!

The Cité de Europe Shopping Centre looks like a fab place. We always go in there and go to Carrefour to stock up on lovely French goodies to bring home, Cheese, pate, croissant, French bread etc.  but I am never allowed to go into any of the other shops (clothes) or browse.

This time I was allowed into one shop!!  I didn’t buy anything because the sales were on and it looked like a jumble sale, but I counted it as a small victory!

Went through the tunnel on the train out the other side and towards the Dartford Crossing.  I was driving.

6 MILES before the Dartford Crossing we stopped, in a traffic jam that went all the way there.

Oh how we laughed and joked our way through that queue.

When we finally arrived at the toll booths, we discovered what was causing the problem, the 14 toll booths were all open – fine, but immediately beyond, one bore of the tunnel was ….closed, so within about 100 yards 14 lanes of traffic had to condense into 2 lanes. It was actual chaos.

You could see people sitting in their cars in actually panic as they didn’t have the bottle to push forwards.

I on the other hand just drove. I was in the biggest car, I was well p’d off, and I was not stopping. We OWNED that tunnel!

Our problems weren’t over though, we had traffic jams all the way round the M25, then onto the M1 just after J8 the traffic ahead was 4 solid lanes of non-moving vehicles.  Just at the last moment I veered off and we decided to go home the country route.

Joy of joys, even more solid traffic every single way we went.  Lolita kept trying to make me “Do a U-turn when possible” or “take the 4th exit at the roundabout” so she could get us back onto the M1.

I began to think there must be some reason of the fates that was stopping us from getting home.  Had the house burned down?  Had we been burgled???

No, Neither of those things.

When we eventually arrived home, I went to the kitchen with the food shopping to put it away.

Cast your minds back one  month.  Mike woke up one morning and decided to come to Spain.

Well that is exactly what he did.  The kitchen was as he’d left it after being on his own in the house for 5 days.

The worksurface was thick with bread crumbs, he’d fried stuff on the hob and not wiped up,  the sink was stained from teabags, the floor was also covered in detritus etc.

I was so happy to have to clean the whole kitchen before I could actually put the shopping away.

Then I went upstairs to the bedroom, where, the bed lay as he had left it, one side of the covers flipped back where he’d got out, pillows all scrunched up pants on floor.

Bathroom – toilet unflushed.

I went downstairs and opened a bottle of wine.

Then I drank it!

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2 responses to “Fifty Shades of ****

  1. plustenner says:

    I totally agree about that 50 Shades of Grey, soooo boring going on and on about the inner goddess 🙂

  2. fortnightflo says:

    I read one sentence and put it down in disgust, so badly written I don’t understand how so many people have read all three – It seems to be written for people that don’t normally read. Oh hang on – just answered my own question. Can I say, I’m a little disappointed with the ending of your story. I was expecting Mike to go all out to win you back round, a grand gesture, something terrbily romantic followed by some make up s**. The reality of you cleaning and drinking wine on your own is not acceptable. Can you tell him I told him to up his game please. It makes better reading…

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