Pont de Normandie

We started our way home today. Still scorching hot.

It's been a great week. Really.

Sometimes a bit weird but always just being here has made everything fine. Normandy and Brittany are lovely and very laid back as you travel further from the coast.

The final comparison I make is of the French toll systems compared to the very few in the UK - we went home via the M6 Toll on Sunday to avoid carnage at Birmingham.

The French tolls have no lanes marked out on the road surface on the approach and give absolutely no indication of the charges that are due when you do get through the tangle of vehicles trying at the very last moment to get over to the correct line for them.

The end result, and you might catch a very brief glimpse of it here, are queues when there really is no need with a bit of thought by road planners.

This queue was hee-uge and extended right down to where I stood which was over the toll booths on a bridge/viewpoint.

The only solution to cash fumbling panic as the maniac behind tries to drive into your back seat is for you to pay all the tolls by credit card.

When I say "you" I actually mean your co-pilot/navigator/ on board Kindle reader because the French have gone and put the pay points on the wrong side of the car.

If you are a loan motorist expect the wrath of everyone behind you as you try to scramble over to the passenger window.

By the way after you exit the Eurotunnel and head south from Calais expect to be hit with toll after toll - it cost us about £25 to get through them so be ready.

The French end of the Eurotunnel, which I referred to at the start of the week, is une shambles. If you can find it that is.

You may be able to see it but do not expect to see nice signage directing you to anything that makes reference to the Eurotunnel except their admin buildings further back down the road.

No, the tunnel you want is called the Manche Tunnel. It is almost intentionally concealed from anyone looking for a Eurotunnel.

Finally, we did see a German - he was having his collar felt for trying to smuggle a cat (yes a cat) through the British customs in Calais to get on the train.

The Mrs was most disappointed as we had just handed over our passports to the English lady when the shout went up.

It was atually a "shout" too - "I've got a cat smuggler"!" cried the customs feller. "Can anyone speak German?"

Everyone's attention was immediately drawn to the car, it's driver and the rather lonely looking cat basket sitting in the otherwise empty boot as we, obviously not looking the cat smuggling types, were quickly handed our passports back and ushered through.

No doubt everyone else got to find out what kind of cat would a German be smuggling into England from France in the back of an empty people carrier.

How bizarre.

PS: I don't know I dont have picture for Monday. I do remember we just went ofr adrive round a route of back roads and small sleepy villages which were beautiful.