Now that's what I call service

This morning I took Peter to Quissac to look at the remains of his car and remove all his possessions. In the meantime, phone calls shoot backwards and forwards to the UK to sort out the insurance and get him back on the road. Doreen is hospitalized for a couple of days in Nîmes, so a car is essential to visit her. In addition, Peter has not yet totalled a French car so he's dying to get his hands on one. Anyway, as we are driving along, his mobile starts to lose power. What can I do he says? Yours truly reaches into his glove box and pulls out the correct charger for his Nokia phone. Now that's what I call service!

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This afternoon, we took Peter into Nîmes to visit Doreen who is now more comfortable and walking about. She has to have another x-ray tomorrow and will then be released back into the community, something that happened to Jan years ago but that's another story. In the meantime, Peter has arranged another hire car and other transport back to the UK via the RAC (Royal Automobile Club) and he is a much happier bunny. A taxi will pick him up tomorrow and take him to his car. When he gets to Boulogne, he gets on the ferry and then picks up another car in Dover, and then drives home. That's what he wants and that's what he got. Service or what?

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As if you aren't confused enough, Jane and Donald arrive for a two night stay, so after I get back from Nimes with Peter, we dine on watercress soup, followed by veal escalops and without question the most outstanding brioche pudding made by Gill.