A letter of complaint

Well, we have made it across the channel and are now settling down for the night in a hostel in Lille. Pretty tired because we’ve been up since about 6.30 this morning and have been on the go all day, albeit sat in a car for most of it either driving or navigating.
Yesterday morning we left my mum’s house after a hearty cooked breakfast and went straight to a local garage to try and get something done about the vibrating sump guard we’d had put on because the noise vibrated our heads to the point of nausea. The mechanic put Bluebell up on the ramps and fitted a couple of spacers in to drop the guard away from contact with the engine which had her purring like a Rolls Royce again. He didn’t want any money for doing it, I think the amusement we gave him at the thought of driving to Mongolia in a Micra was payment enough.
We arrived at Goodwood about 2.00pm and pitched our tent in a grassy field and then parked Bluebell 2 in line with the other Ralliers. Lots of interesting vehicles but we were proud of Bluebell who more than held her own with most of them. There were significant quantities of free beer on offer at this point and so it would have seemed rude not to partake,… and then partake again …. and again … By this time party night had arrived which was more of a drinks and chat night – so a lot of drinking and chatting was done with people in neighbouring tents and in the main marquee. It must have been good because Andy P has just shown me a picture of me dancing on the roof of someone’s car at about midnight. I had completely forgotten about it (which says something about the state I was in), but I now remember it vividly as I nearly fell off at one point. Oh well you’re only old once! Most of the people taking part are in their twenties I guess but we’re not the oldest, that accolade goes to two women from Scotland who have either turned or are just about to turn 70! So plenty of time left for all those of you out there who think it’s too late for an adventure. Clearly, it is never too late.
We left Goodwood just before midday after first being ‘treated’ to some Mongolian wrestling. Volunteers were requested to take them on for a bit of fun and I had to physically restrain Andy P who seemed desperate to grasp the opportunity to stand in front of the crowd and flex his muscles wearing nothing more than his Y-fronts and a smile. Fortunately common sense eventually prevailed.
After the wrestling there was a team photo and then it was into our cars and a lap of the race track before heading off to our chosen channel port. We had a great send off from our families. My sister Virginia and her husband Paul, and Sarah’s brother Mark and his wife Sandra came along as did Andy P’s wife Jane, and two of his children, Toyah and James. There was tearful farewell from Jane who then admitted to me that she was going to miss her husband as well, and then we did a lap of the Goodwood track and were off.
Andy P and I chose to take the southern route to Dover which took us along the coast and through the packed centre of Hastings which frankly turned into a bit of a battle. Luckily there were some helpful arrows pointing the way although one nearly took Andy’s eye out. Funny how history has a habit of repeating itself. In the end it took us longer than expected to reach Dover which meant we’d missed our ferry but there was another one less than an hour later and we were soon crossing the sea and onto the next leg of the adventure. Lots of people are interested in what we’re up to and everyone we’ve spoken to is keen to know more about what we’re doing and I guess be a part of the whole thing. It’s a really nice feeling.
The hostel we’re staying in is pretty good though Andy P has already got a couple of letters of complaint up his sleeve as the result of dirty T- towels in the kitchen and a few spots of urine on one of the toilet seats. I’ve suggested that he call his up-coming autobiography ‘A letter of complaint’ I don’t think he was too chuffed at my suggestion and I think I may shortly be receiving a letter of …. Well you can guess the rest.

So, tomorrow (Monday) we’re off to Heidleberg in Germany where there is another party to be had in the evening. We’ve stocked up with a few bottles of Spitfire just to help smooth over relations between us and the Germans after the Brexit vote. They should help make the whole experience a blast. John Cleese would be proud of us.