A relatively rare event for us this week, a weekend at home, albeit punctuated by dinner chez a friend & colleague of la bienheureuse last night, and another OL home game later this evening. The autumn weather seemed to have really set in last night as we set off for the drive up Mont d'Or, the sort of chilly drizzle that suggests winter isn't far away. The rest of the evening however was very pleasant, even if the sainted one's offer to drive enticed me into indulging to excess in the hospitality on offer. Roaring fire, a champagne and home-made raspberry liqueur aperitif, fantastic four course meal, superb wines and a 30 year-old Armagnac digestif - how could I resist...?
Finally, a little story to warm the heart, amuse or elicit cynical comments, depending on your mood. A couple of weeks ago I was returning from the nuptials of big M and lady K in the company of Ms H. When we got to Stansted to find the usual lengthy queue at the Lyon check-in desk I decided to demonstrate my travel-wiseness by attempting to check in at the Nice desk where there was no queue and one young lady, trying to check in.
Trying turned out to be the operative word however, because she eventually turned round, a hint of tears in her eyes and asked me if I spoke French. Mug that I am, and as economical with the truth as ever, I said yes, and was thus sucked into acting as translator between the young French girl and English lass manning the check-in desk. It eventually transpired that her luggage was overweight and she was being stung for £54 excess baggage charges. Worse than that, all she had in the way of money was two £10 notes. The stern-faced female behind the desk insisted that she pay up or throw out enough belongings to get below the £20 charge. No doubt you've already guessed what was coming next...
"Don't you have a bank card?"
Sob. "Non".
"No Euros?"
Sob. "Non. Svp Monsieur, aidez-moi!"
Well, what else was I supposed to do? Tearful, young, blonde, French female pleading for help? Of course I offered to pay the excess charge for her. She tapped my name, address & phone number into her mobile and promised to send a cheque in repayment as soon as she got home, and having no pen, I attempted to do the same with her details. However I couldn't figure out the address bit on my phone, so that was how I ended up lending thirty-odd quid to a complete stranger without a sure way of finding her afterwards. A certain cynical friend, who shall remain nameless, claimed I must have had 'sucker' written all over me, but I am pleased to report that the promised cheque eventually turned up yesterday. Which I found gratifying, even if it was two weeks late...
Oh, and final footnote: after all the fun & games at the Nice check-in desk, the miserable girl behind the counter wouldn't let me check in to Lyon. So, either the orange budget airline have changed their check-in queue policy recently or she was just being bolshy. Fortunately, Ms H had dutifully queued at the Lyon desk so I was able to jump in at the last moment and avoid queueing all over again when my knight in shining armour impersonation was finally over...
