Picking up an elderly visitor from the railway station
An older lady (like 80?) is visiting us at the moment from our church in North Wales. She has brought a wheelchair, but is able to walk short distances, and she came by train from up in the Vendée. We were to meet her at the central railway station in Bordeaux.
So yesterday I went in to recce the situation. The station has a special desk for these things. I asked the charming lady what she would advise, to drive in from Pessac and, if so, where we could park, or to travel out to Pessac by train.
"You can stop in the pick-up area for a couple minutes."
"And if the train is delayed?" She made the pursed lips sign that says you have made a valid point that has no easy solution.
We decided not to travel in by car. The train was delayed. An hour. I took my life in my hands and drank an iced frapperooni from MacDonalds while Pat drank a big coffee. We shared a cronut. I won't eat one of those again.
The train arrived and a friendly man from SNCF helped us get our friend from the train, then pushed her across the tracks to where the Pessac train was waiting. The Vendée train, in which she had spent five hours, was an old, bouncy thing from the 1970s. They're OK, but you have to clamber up and down into them. The Pessac train is a swish, modern affair that you enter on the level from the platform. We were glad we took that option.
Then the Citiz Clio estate to get us to the flat and, hop, we're installed.
So yesterday I went in to recce the situation. The station has a special desk for these things. I asked the charming lady what she would advise, to drive in from Pessac and, if so, where we could park, or to travel out to Pessac by train.
"You can stop in the pick-up area for a couple minutes."
"And if the train is delayed?" She made the pursed lips sign that says you have made a valid point that has no easy solution.
We decided not to travel in by car. The train was delayed. An hour. I took my life in my hands and drank an iced frapperooni from MacDonalds while Pat drank a big coffee. We shared a cronut. I won't eat one of those again.
The train arrived and a friendly man from SNCF helped us get our friend from the train, then pushed her across the tracks to where the Pessac train was waiting. The Vendée train, in which she had spent five hours, was an old, bouncy thing from the 1970s. They're OK, but you have to clamber up and down into them. The Pessac train is a swish, modern affair that you enter on the level from the platform. We were glad we took that option.
Then the Citiz Clio estate to get us to the flat and, hop, we're installed.
Comments