Friday 27th October 2023, 14.55:
Well, you know this can only mean one thing – yet another holiday blog from The Lord! Yes I know, some of you may be wondering how I manage to sustain such an outrageously lavish lifestyle, but I have only two words for you – American Express.
I jest, obviously, my lifestyle is far from lavish – I’m flying Ryanair for fuck sake, I can almost smell the poverty. Anyway, I’m not sure if you are aware but my very good friend Sian has moved to France for a year to be an au pair, so Lana and I are off to visit her for the weekend. Thankfully I’m not going to be sitting next to Lana on the plane, as that would have cost £8 extra, which is frankly an unconscionable extravagance, so it has ended up that I’m in row 4 and she’s in row 31. Between you and me, I couldn’t be more grateful for this arrangement, as the amount of shite she spewed on the drive down to Stansted this morning would have given the Loose Women a run for their money.
Sian is living in a town called La Rochelle, a few hours from Nantes on the west coast of France. Having recently read a book on the history of the Anglo-French relationship, I’d much rather be arriving via warship than a Ryanair flight, but I’ll take what I can get. I’ve seen pictures & videos that Sian has sent me on Snapchat and the place looks absolutely stunning, so I cannot wait to sit outside of a nice restaurant drinking, smoking and judging everyone in sight. The family Sian works for are on holiday at the moment so have allowed us to stay in the house, which is awfully generous of them – I only hope they have contents insurance.
The woman next to me is reading The Guardian and The Economist, so it’s nice to know I’m not the only person that’s superior to everyone else on this flight. Chow for now. H x
Friday 27th October 2023, 17.15:
We’ve landed & Sian has successfully collected us from the airport. After a quick cigarette we’re in the car on the way home, and I’ve already got a contender for favourite quote of the holiday from Lana – “I think in French culture it’s ok to crash into each other and then drive off isn’t it?” A masterclass in English cultural awareness.
Right, we’re off to the shop for wine and fags. Check in later. H x
Saturday 28th October 2023, 11.05:
My head hurts. I think it was about half past two when I finally got to bed, although I can’t really remember. I do remember the amount I drank (two and a half bottles of Sauvignon), which is causing me immense pain this morning. Sian has just been in to wake me up and I’d love to fly kick her in the face.
It was a very cute evening. We played cards, we danced, we filmed TikTok’s (obviously), we gossiped, we laughed and it was as if Sian had never left. I can hear them both laughing upstairs now, which is quite sweet – I would go and join them but I’m not ready for human interaction just yet. One of them said something last night that was so fucking stupid I wanted to write it down, but I can’t remember which of them said it or what it was, so it’s tough tits.
I can’t focus anymore. I’ll catch up with you later. H x
Saturday 28th October 2023, 13.10:
Right, I’ve had a shower, a black coffee, a cigarette and some croissants, so I’m feeling more refreshed and much more French. We’re planning to get the train into La Rochelle shortly to do a bit of exploring and get very drunk, so I’m just waiting for the girls to finish getting ready.
The house Sian lives in is exactly what you’d expect when you picture the quintessential French village life – beautiful old shuttered windows, a long driveway flanked by grand old trees, a swimming pool in the front garden, a beautiful kitchen/living area with a huge island, so on and so forth. The children essentially have their own wing of the house, with their own living room & play area, a piano, their own bathroom etc. The whole setup is just absolutely stunning and manages to make me feel simultaneously extremely jealous and rather povvo.
Music is playing and I can hear the girls chattering away upstairs. Empty wine bottles litter the kitchen island, left over Pan Au Chocolat’ sit on the oven top and I’m standing watching the rain fall through the bi-fold kitchen doors. I’ve just FaceTimed my darling mother to make sure she and my little baby Forest are ok and he was looking at the phone a bit gone out. It almost feels as though I’m living in a movie that was written to make me feel as happy as possible. Life is pretty good sometimes.
I’ll check in later on. H x
Saturday 28th October 2023, 18.50:
So, five hours later, we are finally on the train to La Rochelle. We missed our original train because the electric gates wouldn’t open so we couldn’t get out of the driveway, so then we tried and failed to book an Uber, then we couldn’t order a local taxi as they didn’t speak English (rude, to be honest), then the mother of the kids Sian looks after ordered us a taxi but it didn’t show up, and then we missed the bus as well, so in the end we decided to try and get a later train and have some prinks in the house. What a fucking palava.
However, it is costing us €1.30 to get the train into La Rochelle – I can’t remember who the transport secretary is at the minute, but take note you useless twat. We’ve sunk two bottles of wine between us and had some bread & cheese so we’re well fuelled up for a night on the town. The hangover has well and truly passed and I’m more than prepared for another crack at it. You’ll never ever guess where our first stop is going to be? Yep, that’s right, a fucking Irish bar. A plague on all your houses.
Wish me luck. H x
Sunday 29th October 2023, 02.15:
Lana just said to a Turkish man: “I only speak English. Can you get me home?”. God bless the English.
H x
Sunday 29th October 2023, 12.25:
We’re in McDonald’s. In France they have reusable stuff, like the chips & nuggets come in a plastic container that they take back and wash afterwards? Fucking weirdos.
Last night was extremely messy. I don’t remember much, but what I do remember is not good. All I know is that right now, I want to throw myself off a bridge.
That’s all you’re getting. H x
Monday 30th October 2023, 16.40:
Apologies for taking so long to get back to you, but yesterday was an absolute nightmare. We went back to La Rochelle in the afternoon after we’d sorted ourselves out and found a nice bar to sit outside of on the harbour front – 9 hours and 23 glasses of wine later, we were well and truly sozzled. However, it wasn’t all plain sailing – for the first few hours, my vibes were, in the words of Ms Gallagher, “fucking terrible”. I couldn’t finish my lunch or my first glass of wine, I couldn’t even smoke a cigarette, and I was sick about 5 times, my trips to the toilet being the only thing that managed to rouse my head off the table every half an hour or so.
Nonetheless, despite the poor vibes from myself, it was a lovely day. We spent the entire time judging everybody that walked past, assigning good or bad vibes, and in all fairness there were a lot of good vibes – they might be lazy and shit in a war, but the French really do know how to dress. The food was delicious (what I managed to eat of it anyway) and the views were spectacular – I’d struggle to think of a better way to spend a Sunday afternoon. After we’d outstayed our welcome in that restaurant, we went back to the Irish bar for to repeat our mistakes of the previous night, before retiring to a kebab shop to make complete twats of ourselves and then stumbling into an Uber whom Lana INSISTED was the same one we’d had the previous night (I have absolutely no recollection of that journey).
I don’t think I told you about Saturday night properly either, did I? It was also a complete mess. I spent about €200, baby Guinness were flying about left right and centre, we met a group of rugby lads who bought a bottle of gin that we kept stealing from as one of them attempted to teach Sian French over the blaring music, all whilst it was also absolutely pissing it down outside, meaning all of the bars were absolutely packed. The only evidence I have on my phone is about eighty pictures of me smoking outside of a bar, three pictures of a French man wearing my glasses and a twenty one second video of me singing in the street whilst Lana tries to convince a Turkish man to drive us home. I honestly think I might actually be the world’s biggest bellend.
It is therefore safe to say that today has been very soggy. We’re flying back from Nantes and the train into the city was delayed by 40 minutes – the French word for delayed is retardé, a fact which kept me occupied for the entire forty minutes. However, it has truly been worth it because we’ve had a fucking brilliant weekend – the wine never stopped flowing, the jokes never stopped coming, the vibes were immaculate and, on the whole, it reminded me how lucky I am to have such wonderful friends and a wonderful life.
Until the next one. H x
