Versailles, Ella's coat and sailing on the Seine.
Six ladies of a certain age, away for the weekend. We had boarded the coach giggling like schoolgirls, happy for a weekend away from the busyness of daily life. Working in stressful jobs all needing a break from the life events that had taken their toll on resilience and energy. It was (and still is) a regular occurrence to have a few days of "letting your soft out".
The journey to Paris was by coach via the Eurotunnel, a long journey from Liverpool. Travelling through the night. It was a journey that passed quickly for a group of friends who needed to catch up on gossip, news and all of recent events. That, involved talking all the way, for hours on end. Tired from the journey we disembarked the coach near to the Eiffel Tower ready to take up our accommodation for the weekend. We boarded the MS River Cruiser ready to set sail along the Seine taking in the Parisian sights on the way to stop off for the Palace of Versailles the next day.
A nights rest and all were refreshed ready for the days adventure. Off to the Palace of Versailles to marvel at the famous Hall of Mirrors. A horse drawn omnibus had been booked to take us around the grounds to admire the beauty of the manicured grounds and amazing statues.
It was February, a cold snap had arrived and the cold air had the feel and promise of snowfall coming. Sure enough, as we arrived at Versailles, the first flakes of snow were falling on the cobbles. We made our way gingerly towards the palace as the cobbles were slippery with the light covering of snow. Then, all of a sudden, A slipped, and lost her balance falling heavily onto the slippery and wet cobbled roadway. Helped up, embarrassed by the inability to stay upright, putting on a brave face and trying to ignore the pain. She was now being propped up by two of the others, we all continued towards the house. Normally we would have been in fits of giggles but it wasn't hard to see that A was badly hurt by the fall, so any rising mirth was suppressed.
Once inside we marvelled at the beautiful, paintings, decor and opulence. Off then to the hall of mirrors only to find out that it was closed off for refurbishment. Disappointed we made our way to the pick up point for the omnibus ride.
Shiny black horses pulled a black open top carriage which was rather funereal looking. The driver was wearing a black frock coat and had a long whip. I thought that he looked like the child catcher from Chitty Chitty Bang Bang.
The snow had stopped but it was freezing cold and we huddled together to keep warm. The carriage set off around the grounds, flurries of snow falling intermittently. Teeth chattering we wondered why on earth we had booked such a trip. All of the statues and topiary were covered to prevent damage from the winter frost and the fountains had been turned off to prevent them from freezing. So, there was nothing to see. The horses hooves were clip clopping on the icy paths, when there was a crunching noise and the carriage leant to one side, almost tipping over. One if the wheels had fallen off the omnibus. We descended from the stricken carriage and waited in the freezing cold for a replacement to take us back to our coach. We were now numb with the cold. Our coach driver, when he had stopped laughing long enough after hearing our tale, made us coffee and shared his precious, well hidden, bottle of emergency brandy.
Back on our comfortable vessel we thawed out and enjoyed the comfort of the upgraded cabins. Smugly observing those who had the lower graded, lower deck accommodation stating "we used to be down there" and "I wonder what poor people are doing today". That's what a small upgrade does. It gives a feeling of smug superiority.
Next day we sailed back to Paris to enjoy the famous sights and travel to Sacre Coeur Basilica via the Metro. Directions were asked for in what can only be described as grammar school French, but we were understood and were understanding of the instructions given by a well presented French lady. A change in the weather resulted in a pleasant day with a promise of pre spring sunshine. We spent our time enjoying the entertainment and street artists of the cultural quarter, before finally entering the Basilica to admire the beauty if this fine building.
We embraced the serenity, each having our own thoughts and prayers. Remembering loved ones and praying for those needing some spiritual intervention, lighting the candles on the alters. Suddenly, P announced she could smell burning. E responded that of course she could, it was the candles. "No"said P "your coat is on fire" as the smoke came up from the sleeve of E's coat. "Be Jaysus"said E, her native Irish accent becoming more pronounced as she battered the singed sleeve to ensure it didn't burst into flames completely. "Me coats, on fire an I gave more to St Anthony, than St Theresa, I put a Euro in that box." Serenity turned to chaos and we quickly left unable to contain the hysterical laugher any longer.
We stopped at an Artisan cafe for coffee, still laughing hysterically at E's singed coat. Still smelling of that distinctive smell of singed faux fur. F had descended to the ladies toilet which was down a small flight of stairs, quickly followed by the others, one by one. "F" said A "have you noticed the drawings on the walls?" "Yes they are very good" said F "unusual". "Mm certainly are, they are all cartoons of copulating couples, in some very strange positions". Fits of laughter again, we made a hasty retreat back to the Metro and the banks of the Seine where our river cruiser was docked.
After dinner it was decided that we would enjoy Paris by night and take a boat trip along the river to see the Notre Dame Cathedral. A dark place to go inside, but Gothic splendour when viewed from the river. As darkness fell, so did the temperature and the freezing cold air howled through the tourist boat. Nothing much to see in the pitch black and freezing cold. Notre Dame was merely a black shadow against an even blacker sky, broken up only by the twinkling stars. Thankfully it was a short trip and we disembarked to head for the magical carousel. Those bobby horses are so cold. The coldness of the metal could be felt through winter coats and trousers. We didn't care, we rode merrily, bobbing up and down, round and round to the tunes of the brightly lit carousel. Laughing and enjoying our last night in Paris before the long journey home.
On the way home we stopped at the obligatory Cash and Carry to buy duty free goods to take home. Various wines and cheeses were purchased with F buying a bottle of finest Olive oil in a glass bottle shaped like the Eiffel Tower. The bottle was carefully nursed for the whole 18 hours of the journey. We all alighted the coach at the Liverpool Bus Station, collecting our luggage from the hold. Oops, the bottle of olive oil slipped through F's hands and smashed on road. A slimy, slippery olive oil lake was now formed and the oil would never be enjoyed in a Liverpool kitchen. With looks of dismay, we said good bye to the last remnant of our trip but to each other knowing we would be doing more of the same, some time soon.
Letting your soft out is essential, to keep you sane, and we would dine out recalling the tales of burnt coats and crashed omnibuses for years to come. It didn't matter about the cold, or covered statues, all that mattered was the bond between like minded friends who appreciated each other's company and the experience.
