Bloody bloody bloody!

This morning I woke up to a very pissy-panted Tony. A very pissy-panted Tony indeed. (He was grumpy. He’d had a dry night.)

It’s our lasty day of travelling today and the feeling in the air is one of melancholy, satisfaction, anticipation and desperation! I’ve decided today I’m going to count the number of Tony sighs. That is, the number of times he huffs and puffs. It’s 8:11am. I’ve lost count. I got to 7 before I got out of bed.

1 for getting into the van.

1 for getting out of the van.

1 for moving his case.

1 because he was doing something else…

When I asked him, very calmly and caringly, if he was OK and if I could help he was really rather bitey.

“I can’t move your bloody case.”

Ah. The day starts like this, do it?

 

I’ve also noticed that the number of bloodies that come out of Anf’s mouth generally tend to indicate his level of frustration.

He’s already showered, has breakfasted (“you can’t get the bloody top off the coffee cup”) and as I type this, I hear “It don’t bloody work.”.

He’s now referring to the air pump he keeps in the van (NOT a car) that he’s pulled out of the back because the air machine in the service station where we’re saying is bloody out of order.

I sense the poor guy is feeling challenged today, but the sun is shining and we’re going to check out the D-Day Landings so it’ll turn around, I’m sure!

 

I’ve struggled to get wifi and balance the enjoyment element the last few days but we stopped off in the middle of France to visit a friend of mine, before coming here in Normandy,. I’ll surely post a little about our stay there when I get chance but wanted to bring you up-to-speed a little before we lose wifi again (and to share with you my morning so you can chuckle at the kind of day we’re going to have ahead!).

 

Now, where are the bloody tie backs?!