High Visibility Pillock Spotted In Mirror. Me.


So the road trip plan is going on – and on – and on. I am the culprit. I could organise I piss up in a brewery but other than that organising anything confuses my brain completely.

I need to drive from Edinburgh to Barcelona by car.

I can’t fly. It’s not that I don’t want to. I can’t so I have no choice.

So I look at the map.

I can see where I am and where I want to go but how do you plan it?
How do you know where to stop?

When to stop?
How many miles you can realistically drive on a day to day in a right hand drive car in France or Spain?

A pal told me I need a breathalyser – thanks I said – no he meant legally in France you must have two in the car. Oh. OK


Also on the list are two high viz jackets.
Where do you get those? I said arriving to buy some tea lights from IKEA and instantly stumbling into a huge pile of high viz jackets for about 90p each. Weird.


But as it’s IKEA not only is it weird – its a bargain.

Though I do get distracted with why one earth do IKEa sell high viz jackets?

Is it  for people who fall asleep half way through building a flat pack so their family don’t trip over their  prone exhausted  bodies as they go about their business. Anyway it was a happy coincidence whatever the reason.

So I bought 2 for me and 2 for him and so he got the breathalysers so all we need now is the route.

Even the drive to Dover is confusing.

Drive all the way in a day or stop over somewhere and if so where?

Or get a ferry from Newcastle?

And so it goes on so prevarication wins out as usual.

Speaking of which it’s Good Friday – Happy Easter – I am off to stuff my chops with chocolate eggs in the hope the rush of sugar to the brain will effect a shift in my capacity to plan…

A tour of the Trenhotel Paris – Barcelona 2013.

Next leg. The Trenhotel. Train Hotel.Overland. Paris to Barcelona.

Paris to Barcelona.

Crossed  to Paris Austerlitz from Gare Du Nord and there we were. En France. Hot sunny. And as usual gagging on a drink and something to eat.

Shoved our stuff in left luggage and luck found us in a wee restaurant right next to the Sorbonne where none of us studied or were likely to know the significance of if it hadn’t been for Peter Sarstedt song all those years ago …Where do you go to my lovely….la la la la la la la….So……Pastis and veal stew Magnifiquie – . C’est la vie or veal as it turned out which was delicious.

Honed and ready for the train we had read google and  several people had said ‘Its not the Orient Express’

Well that is a fact.

It is an ancient rusty sort of contraption. We boarded at 10,30pm and were told to go the restaurant car immediately where we were given a strange meal of nodules, dry things and Vino Sol wine – we were truly on our way now.

We put off going to bed for as long as we could but we were tired. Tres fatigue.

Here’s a vid to tell the story – oh and check out the train guard – a very handsome chap who loved having his photo taken but insisted in seeing it to check if he looked good enough.  If they all looked like this charming man then cars would be annulled and we would all be letting the train take the strain.  So here we are……



Arriving in Barcelona the next morning was a joy as we ate breakfast looking out over the Spanish countryside. The comfort of the beds felt a little like being dragged over the tracks in a sack but hey ho we are intrepid travellers and that’s the sort of thing you have to accept.  Especially when you have no choice.