Yippee!
So today has been interesting.
Catrin left at 9:00 to go to the airport with some friends on a trip to Barcelona.
We, meanwhile, were off to Clinique Tivoli for an appointment with the anaesthetists who will numb Patricia's eye with drops ready for the surgeon to do her cataracts.
At about 10 the phone rang. "Dad, one of the girls has a problem with her card, but there's a couple who had the same problem, so we're going with them by car to Barcelona."
The "problem with the card" was a French identity card that was out of date by a month.
The girl in question will come back by coach, where they don't worry so much about valid identity.
So off they set for Barcelona.
Catrin promised to text us from time to time.
Meanwhile we set off for the clinic. Patricia needed a BIG THICK dossier of papers, including a complete print of the contract of our health insurance and loads of other stuff, together with her passport. We walked through the streets of Pessac to the station and took the Citiz car to drive to Tivoli.
Traffic was heavy and roadworks were frequent. At the clinic Pat got out and scuttled off to the clinic while I parked the car. I found her in the waiting room, rifling through her papers.
"Is my passport in the car?"
"I'll go and look."
It was nowhere. Not in the car, not on the floor of the car park, not nowhere.
When I got back to the waiting room she'd gone in to see the doctor.
He didn't need her passport.
Or the contract for our health insurance.
When we got back to Pessac we looked in the street, in the flat, everywhere. It was nowhere.
At about 4 the phone rang. "Madame Davey? It's the police. We have your passport."
Then we heard that Catrin had arrived safely in Barcelona and was reunited with the gang of girls.
Catrin left at 9:00 to go to the airport with some friends on a trip to Barcelona.
We, meanwhile, were off to Clinique Tivoli for an appointment with the anaesthetists who will numb Patricia's eye with drops ready for the surgeon to do her cataracts.
At about 10 the phone rang. "Dad, one of the girls has a problem with her card, but there's a couple who had the same problem, so we're going with them by car to Barcelona."
The "problem with the card" was a French identity card that was out of date by a month.
The girl in question will come back by coach, where they don't worry so much about valid identity.
So off they set for Barcelona.
Catrin promised to text us from time to time.
Meanwhile we set off for the clinic. Patricia needed a BIG THICK dossier of papers, including a complete print of the contract of our health insurance and loads of other stuff, together with her passport. We walked through the streets of Pessac to the station and took the Citiz car to drive to Tivoli.
Traffic was heavy and roadworks were frequent. At the clinic Pat got out and scuttled off to the clinic while I parked the car. I found her in the waiting room, rifling through her papers.
"Is my passport in the car?"
"I'll go and look."
It was nowhere. Not in the car, not on the floor of the car park, not nowhere.
When I got back to the waiting room she'd gone in to see the doctor.
He didn't need her passport.
Or the contract for our health insurance.
When we got back to Pessac we looked in the street, in the flat, everywhere. It was nowhere.
At about 4 the phone rang. "Madame Davey? It's the police. We have your passport."
Then we heard that Catrin had arrived safely in Barcelona and was reunited with the gang of girls.
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