Lost in France
Solo trip to France. Part 1.
In the summer of 2023, I decided to take a sabbatical and arranged three months of uninterrupted free time. I’m not a big spender but an avid saver, and I had enough stashed to take some time off.
This is how it looked;
Four weeks in Ibiza with my partner Gareth, four weeks in France solo in my Mum’s teeny weeny campervan and finally, a Norwegian cruise with the same Mum to celebrate her 80th.
This story focuses on my month-long solo trip to the French Alps, how it went, and what I learned.
Being the oldest out of three daughters (my siblings are twins), one tends to get the “shit end of the stick”, I believe the saying goes and has to take more responsibility than the other siblings, especially for them when parents go rogue in the local Pub on a Friday evening.
More household chores and more conflict as you pave the way growing up, and of course, just a few scraps of attention as twins, in particular, are, shall we say, needy? But all is good when you get older as they can’t thank you enough and are forever indebted to you - aah... No, sorry, they actually stab you in the back and hate on you at every opportunity.
Where am I going with this?
One of the greatest gifts I received growing up was my independence, resilience, courage and, eventually, confidence. That’s why I could choose to drive to France alone and not bat an eyelid!
I was so excited that I decided to share my journey with my FB group by making live videos on a regular basis.
I set off from my home in Wakefield around 2 pm after a tearful farewell - I could have sworn I saw **GB** doing cartwheels as I disappeared round the corner and made it safely down to a campsite just outside the port of Dover, well after getting slightly lost and ending up in some clean air zone, which is a relatively new ponzi money-making scheme for people who can’t afford brand new electric vehicles.
The weather was reasonable, and I sat outside the van listening to the sexually charged lyrics of Serge Gainsbourg whilst smoking a Gitanes and sipping neat Courvoisier.
Wherever I travel, I like to embrace the culture, and the idea of being French appeals to me. The women are so classy and aloof and seem to live on pastries and never gain weight. As for me, show me a Greggs, and I’ll be plus size overnight.
I had really made the Campervan a true home from home with fairy lights, a leopard print throw and a knitted cushion that Mum made me once when she realised she had another child somewhere who didn’t say much.
In the tiny kitchen area, I had stocked up with essentials like my favourite coffee, a few litres of coconut milk and a couple of emergency tins of Big Soup - you know, stuff that you wouldn't normally be seen dead eating but on a solo trip to France looks very appropriate.
It was going to be my birthday whilst I was away, so I had in my possession two cards to open when the special and magical day appeared. It always moves me that so many of my friends and family take the time to remember.
**Gareth Boot**
