Monday. We shall be in France. Feck knows where. Somewhere east of Paris.
For a week.
Mrs TG suffers from vertigo.
I have told her that if she doesn't get into the elevator upside the Eiffel tower with the rest of us to see the view from the top, I shall leave her at the mercy of French men who no doubt will be lurking at base of said tower waiting to molest said abandoned English wimmin .
Cheese.
Wine.
Waterfowl compressed until their insides drip onto nice crackers.
Nice coffee.
Notre Damme.
Shite breakfasts!
EurofeckingbastidDisney.
Wish us luck people.