Back Home

Safe home at last. A smooth journey until we reached Abbeville and went into the IBIS hotel to take up the room we'd booked in January. They tried to dislodge us to another hotel ten miles away in the opposite direction to the A16 and Calais because they had accepted two coachloads of 30 that day. We were not pleased and stood our ground, and eventually a room was "discovered." I think it was the one they saved for disabled people because it was small, but very well appointed with a wet room instead of a shower and all the requirements for a wheelchair. We left at 6.10 am and were back in England a couple of hours later with no disturbance at Calais. We whizzed straight through but had loads of sympathy for the truck drivers stacked up in long lanes at the roadside. We also saw a group of black silhouettes harassing the drivers and thought how menacing they looked.

In England we again had no stops, but the roads outside the terminal were heavily congested with trucks stacked up for miles, both moving and stationary - all trying to get to France. As far back as Ashford the traffic was stationary or slow moving with police controlling access. We thanked our luck that we were not attempting to go to France that day.

Tim was very well behaved both coming and going. He saw the vet in France without a qualm and was passed as all clear. The charge was 49 euros, which I think DH said worked out at about £27. Tim must have remembered last year, for he seemed to recognise the mill when we turned into the long drive, and he certainly knew when he was with a mile or two of home!

In two days we've moved from 37 degrees C to 17 degrees C and it feels cold here! I stood in my kitchen last night and wondered where I kept everything. Knives? Forks? Where were they? Pans? I was so attuned to the kitchen at the mill that it took a real thought process to recall where things were. I woke up wondering why I was on the wrong side of the bed, and then remembered: in France I sleep on the left, in England I sleep on the right. A bit like the driving, really. In reverse, of course, in case you are wondering.

Pet Passports

So let me tell you about taking your dog to France. It all starts with having your dog microchipped. Tim was done when he was still with the breeder, and on his first visit to my vet that number was recorded against his  name. Then in March or thereabouts this year, we spoke to the vet about him going to France. Tim was required to have an injection against rabies and certain other jabs were required - and had already been given as part of the normal routine of caring for our pet. We were advised to use something against fleas and ticks as ticks are pretty nasty in southern France, and the Dordogne is just on the borderline of where the nasties live. Frontline is the standard preparation, but Activyl, we were told, is a more recent and more effective substance.  The vet then issues a Pet Passport with Tim's basic details - breed, sex, age, etc and there is space for a photograph. since the spots of a Dalmatian are very recognisable, I did a "passport picture" and stuck it in! The vet records the necessary medical data, signs it and we were ready to go.

Leaving the UK via the Channel Tunnel was no problem.  Tim had five happy weeks romping around the French countryside, and we made an appointment to see the French vet in Vergt on 8th July. This examination has to be done within a strict time band before you leave France. The practice nurse gave Tim a whopping big Worming tablet and Dr Pennant Olivier checked Tim over and pronounced him "Bonne, bonne." He signed the pet passport and  a certificate to say that Tim was fit to travel back into England, charged us 52.80 euros and we were done.

Next day we drove to Abbeville, and the day after that (10th July)  we arrived at Calais, where we had to visit the Pet Travel Agency within the Tunnel complex. French staff checked Tim's micro chip, his passport and the vet's certificate, and decided everything was in order. So we travelled back into England. On the English
side of the Channel, in Folkstone, we drove straight through and on home.

If you go by overnight  ferry Portsmouth to St Malo or Caen, I'm told you are asked to put the dog in kennels on the same deck as the cars are parked. Some people insist the dog stays in the car, which is better if it is big Range Rover or similar. At least it is familiar with the car, but that deck is so noisy and dark and horrible I don't want to put Tim through that. At least going through the Tunnel he is in the car with us the entire trip.

The Last Time

Just returned from a long walk up the hill, along the top of the valley  and down by the La Peyrouse complex. We took a side path to the through the woods too, and it was cool under the trees. Coming back out into the sunshine for the march along the bottom road was hot and sticky work. Never mind; Tim is fast asleep on the rug, so it the exercise has done its job.

We're starting to think in terms of doing things for the last time before we leave on Wednesday. Tomorrow we have an appointment with the vet. to comply with regulations about taking Tim back to England. Then Wednesday morning we'll be off early for the long drive back to Abbeville, our overnight stop.We don't want to go through Rouen so I think we're skirting the extreme western edge of Paris. A tunnel is blocked in Rouen and it led to road closures and  mayhem among the traffic, so we want to avoid all the angst we had on the way south.

The weather weather broke a week ago and since then it has been warm but grey and cloudy with several thunderstorms and lots of rain. After a thunderstorm in the morning and a deluge of rain, the mist rose on the hay field last night and looked very creepy as it advanced on the mill. Today we've had patches of sunshine, but nothing lasting. At least the rain has the virtue of making the grass seed sprout and green over the bare earth the diggers left behind. Sleeping is a trial; the duvet is far too warm, but with only a sheet and a coverlet, I was cod last night. Got out and wriggled into "pyjamas" - a sweatshirt and leggings - and fell asleep right away. All in all, I think it is time to go home.