- Untitled
- The season begins
- Jan 2010
- Feb 2010
- March 2010
- April 2010
- May 2010
- Ski Pictures 2010
- June 2010
- July 2010
- August 2010
- September 2010
- October 2010
- Late October
- November
- December 2010
- January 2011
- February
- The European Youth Olympic Festival
- March 2011
- The season ends
- May and June 2011
- End of June
- July
- August in Yorkshire
- September 2011
- 28 October 2011
- November/December 2011
- Season 2012
- February 2012
- March and April
- June
- 'Summer' 2012
The season begins
'Honi, pass me a wet wipe'
"Why?"
'There's poo on the electric window opener'
My daughter scrabbles around amid the clutter at her feet and eventually retrieves the package from among the debris.
'Do not use them all'
'Why?
'There's some in the groove of my Nintendo. "
We are about ten kilometers south of Liege where we wasted a good half hour on picturesque backstreets looking to join the E21 south. Now that we have hit the open road I am desperate to open the car window to dilute the cloying smell of cherry blossom air freshener which is doing little to mask the odor of dog excrement. Our final destination, Flaine, a not at picturesque but very functional ski resort in the French Alps is more than eight hours drive away.We had abandoned hope of making it in one long before Liege, thanks to Xiao Xiong's misdemeanors on the Hull Rotterdam ferry.
Xiao Xiong means little bear in Chinese. We adopted our perky little fox like mongrel, along with Lucky a Golden Retriever (to whom I have just awarded favorite dog status) in Beijing where we lived for ten years. Life was simple in those days when all I had to do was raise four kids in a foreign culture andcope with a tonal language and one billion of the world's worst drivers. Running the ice hockey program was a bit of a headache but it all fades into insignificance compared to our latest departure.
Sam (14) and Honor (12) are in the GB Children's Ski Team. They were fortunate enough to spend extended holidays in Flaine where we have a family apartment from an early age and sufficiently fearless, athletic and motivated to make the grade last year. That is the good bit. The bad is trying to run your life in two places for one third of the year when you have a rambling country house with plumbing problems, two dogs, four ponies, three cats and a goldfish.
As the 'season' approaches I throw all the balls up in the air and try to manage their descent. This time the dog ball came down in France where Sam at least based will be competing in the French ski circuit. Experience told us that the capacity of a Subarru Forrester for four months would not expland to fit four people two complete sets of ski racing gear and our furry friends so I enlisted Honi's support for the road journey, leaving the boys to suffer the vagaries of Easyjet. Mother's of big families do not get a lot of one to one time with their offspring and I thought it would be a good bonding experience.
It was not difficult to convince Honi of the benefits of traveling via what is in effect a floating Butlins and when we were allow to jump the queue with hazard lights flashing because we had live cargo it seemed that our boat had literally come in. My enjoyment of the moment was only slightly tempered by the form I had signed committing to placing the dogs in kennels for the duration of the journey .... How great was my relief, therefore, when that charming Dutch man inquired, in faultless English, if I would prefer to leave them in the car.
In their own car, my heart ruled, Lucky and Xiong would not feel abandoned, they would know we were coming back for them. Dogs I had been told, do not really have any concept of time. They would doze a bit, wait a bit, and before They had time to miss us, we would be back to drive them to their winter home.
Relaxed in our decision, Honi and I ate heartily from the buffet. She had her chips with curry, I had a large glass of Rose which set me up to supervise her annual slot machine fix. When we were escorted below to say goodnight to the dogs Xiong was cheekily sitting on the front seat, looking both comfortable and secure. Making a mental note to get a guard dog I folded my coat inside out beneath her and slipped into my bunk that night with a clear conscience.
There was no one available to escort us the following morning when, well stocked up with fried egg and beans (I drew the line at the hash browns), we asked to visit the dogs before docking. So we used the time to buy a Loch Ness monster hat and a book called 'The World's Greatest Losers'for Sam's stocking. Lost as we were among Guinness hats and key rings and mammoth bars of Toblerone, we missed the first call to the car deck and reached the Subaru just as those at the front of the queue were beginning to disembark.
'Move Xiong into the back and jump in' I called to Honi as I opened my door. 'No, on second thoughts wait a moment' I continued as my senses reeled, 'I think we need to buy a new car. "
There must have been a time during the journey where Xiong's sense of comfort and security was no more and was replaced with a pure panic. Whether the need to evacuate her bowels came before or after the panic did not influence the outcome of the situation. In a desperate attempt to escape through one or other of the front windows that I had left slightly open, Xiong had massacred the black plastic upholstery (at least we did not waste money on leather), pulled off the audio speakers and their fixing ( how she managed it I still haven't worked out) and smashed the corner off the mirror.
The structural damage looked expensive but it was not my immediate problem. The poo was, and it was everywhere. The trail originated, it appeared, from the driver's seat, but it has been well trodden into the passenger seat, and our coats that covered it had taken quite a knocking too, then there was the stream that must have projectiled during her frenzied attempt to escape.
There is a type of person who springs into action in a crisis. I am the other type: the one who waits for someone else to do something. That someone else did not happen.I dabbed ineffectively with my Pashima scarf while looking around helplessly. The ferry was emptying; fortunately we were parked at the back, the dog in space, next to the kennels.
Realizing that the nice Dutch man probably had an agenda I opened the sliding door. As I had guessed the kennel area was well-equipped with cleaning material. I grabbed a handful of tissues, a towel and a spray, only to see the door locked firmly behind me as I exited.
Five minutes later we are driving off the boat. My beautiful pristine daughter, who refuses to use a public loo if there is a trace of odour, is perched on the towel. I am crackling on a double sheet of Christmas wrapping paper. It has a cute design with two idyllic puppies gazing at a Christmas tree. I bought it from the Dogs Trust.
We lose it at customs. 'Do not open the window, he'll think it is us' Honi screams through tears of what I hope are laughter. Trying to avoid eye contact with the official I glance at the car on at the next booth. Another mother is driving her daughter south. I wonder where they are going and how she manages to look so immaculate after a night in a floating bunk, I can put money on the fact that they are not sitting in dog poo.
I turn left when I hit the open road, immediately realizing that I should have gone right. I do not really care Because a) I know that there is more than one way through the mish mash of motorways that cut through Holland and Belgium b) because my mind can not travel further than the next service station.
It looms about twenty minutes later. I park in the most inconspicuous spot I can find and we open the boot to release a surprisingly cheerful looking Xiong and a more mournful Lucky. We march them to the river where Lucky uncoils the result of her trauma and I thank God for her self-control.It is snowing lightly and the breeze is icy. Our coats are in the 'bag of poo covered things that may be salvageable' so it is short walk. On returning to the car I dispose of the bag of 'poo covered things that are not salvageable' which sadly includes my Pashima scarf and we put the dogs in the boot, tying Xiao Xiong firmly to the back head rest.
If the shop assistant finds it strange that we buy four rolls of paper towel, six packets of cleaning clothes, two boxes of wet wipes, some anti-bacterial cleanser, a dashboard spray, two air fresheners and a large pair of industrial gloves she doesn 't say anything. I guess we do not look like psychopaths trying to eradicate all traces of our crime - perhaps she thinks Honi does not travel well.
We spend the night in Dijon. Our accessible overnight bag is useless as we both need a complete change of clothes so I have to unpack the whole car to get at the big suitcase beneath the bags of Christmas paraphernalia, schoolwork and ski gear.Sam's ski boots, I note, will need a good wiping before he can wear them.
I take one look at the starched white sheets on the hotel bed and take Xiong Lucky into the restaurant with us. The French have such a sensible attitude to dogs in public places - it's time the ferry companies took it on board.