Saturday 13th February, 2010

Up at le craque d'awn and off we set for the resort. We set a blistering pace until Mrs Wild's inbuilt radar kicks in and we have to slow down. Mrs W is none too comfortable in cars either and the radar is set at approx 80mph (if she is in the back with glasses off) or 60mph (if she is in the front with glasses on). Guess which I prefer. I daren't tell her the speed in kmh.

Fortunately everyone else is soon asleep and I'm left to my own devices. Bliss. There's a momentary scare as I hit the only pothole in France, but fortunately they all soon settle down again quickly and we pound on to the first fuel stop.

I hand over driving duties to Mrs W. We pull out of the service station at le vitesse de l'escargot and I'm ashamed to say that I immediately start to display all of my appalling shortcomings as a passenger. Furtive glances across at the speedometer, wincing at the gearchanges, and reaching across with my silver tipped cane to press the accelerator. Of course I realise that none of this is the slightest bit helpful, but I just can't help myself.

Eventually it pays off, and I am handed the honour of the final driving stint into the resort. Thank goodness we have no need of snow chains. It's not that I don't have any. In fact I purchased some at great expense, only to read in the owners handbook that they should not be used with the particular model that I own. I don't know why, but naturally I am none too keen to find out. At least we'd have been better off than friends we bumped into at the Eurotunnel terminal. They had invested in 'snow socks'. Hmmm. Now I'm no physicist, but what I do know about the traction properties of socks on slippery surfaces suggests to me that this may be a solution of somewhat dubious merit. I hope they didn't get to find out.

We head for the hire shop. After Mrs and Miss Wild come over all unnecessary at the sight of the shop manager we gather our equipment and off we set at full speed ... back to the chalet for drinks, dinner and bed.