Panic sail to Saint Malo

Woke up on the Portsmouth – Saint Malo ferry in a bit of a panic. Pathetic really,  it was about 2am and I’d started catastrophising, as you do at the time in the morning, about the quarantine.

We’re due to be away for 21 days then after that we’re going to have to quarantine for 14 days.  It’s far stricter than the original lockdown which at least allowed me to go for a walk or run and do some “essential” shopping.

Despite our decent size house and garden that felt like too much captivity, sometimes I’d go out just to clear my head of a morning, to make myself feel less anxious and agitated. You can’t even do that under full quarantine.

In the middle of the night in a small cabin while in a state of semi-sleep the idea of quarantine felt like too much to bear.  It seemed like the whole of the next 21 days would be ruined because I’d be worried about the 14 days of quarantine that followed.

Half expecting a ‘pull yourself together’ slap on the face from Mrs Jones as I woke her in the midst of my panic she turned out to be surprisingly supportive. It was good to share how I felt at this awful hour of the night.

My sense of discombobulation was not helped by our evening in the bar of Brittany Ferries’ Bretagne.  It felt like the Marie Celeste with just a few hardy British souls making the journey across the channel.  There was about 20 of us in a venue that could comfortably seat few hundred people.

It didn’t stop them persisting with the night’s “entertainment” which comprised of Destiny Duo – a blonde singer with her acoustic guitar playing husband/boyrfriend in  who appeared not to know whether they were on their way to France or Spain.

Their attempts to get all 20 of us doing some sort of seated dance to George Ezra’s Shotgun were cringeworthy.  Despite that fail they made a game attempt to lift our spirits.

As they drew their set to a close to the polite ‘please don’t do an encore’ applause in the near empty bar it became apparent a magic act was next on.  The sight of a worryingly young scantily dressed glamorous assistant with a face mask proved all we needed to make our escape.

Next morning I cheered myself up with a very average full English breakfast before we made our way down to the nearly empty car park Deck 3.

After being security checked at the British border, they asked us if we were carrying any knives – we had to admit we were – and forks – there were no problems at all on the French side who waved us through with a friendly smile, yes really!

Our journey on the wrong side of the road began to a place called Loches in the Loire Valley found through a random search online, we’ve never been there before.  Wonder what it will bring.

Published by brianjonesdiary

Dad, husband, brother and son. Interested in travel, politics, sport, health and much more. Semi-retired and aiming to making the most of life as I approach my sixth decade.

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