Our anniversary

Ste Ella

Let me take you back to February 1st 2007. The Big Day had dawned.

Jon and I woke before the crack of dawn in a hotel near to our, now empty except for three cats, home. We had dinner the evening before with youngest daughter and her husband and had been very disappointed with the food and the service. We had selected this particular hotel as we'd had very good meals there in the past, we must have hit an off night and it was a sad last night as UK residents. Oh well, c'est la vie, as they say.

We gathered our belongings, crept out of the back door of the hotel and returned to our house to collect three cats and a couple of thermos flasks of hot water for the journey.

Cramped into our packed little car, with one cat box on my knee, we drove to our pre-arranged meeting point where Jon moved into my mother's car and the cat box was placed on the passenger seat of my own car.

As I climbed into the driver's seat I noticed a rather unpleasant smell and, thinking that one of the cats had had a bit of an accident, I tried to see which one and whether there was anything I could do to clean her up. I didn't find anything nasty so put it down to a cat with a nervous tummy!!! We carried on down to the Channel Tunnel.

The three cats were very well behaved and only shouted for ten minutes or so each time the car stopped and started up again.

At the Channel Tunnel I was stopped by UK Passport Control.

'Good morning, Madam. How many people in the car? Just one? And three cats. Where are you headed for?'

'France' I said.

'Where exactly?' he insisted, so I told him.

'And how long are you staying for?'

That was the best bit. 'For ever!' I said with a big smile.

He waved me through with a muttering 'Lucky you!' and I was pleased not to be bomb checked at the next point.

Arriving in France we didn't see a soul and we began to wonder whether the £400 or so pounds we had spent on getting the cats vaccinations, rabies jabs, blood tests, microchips and pet passports had been worth it. But even though no-one else wanted to know we were glad that we had taken every precaution.

The long journey south was uneventful until we noticed thick snow by the side of the autoroute just north of Limoges and on southwards.

It got dark. One of the cats decided that she'd had quite enough of this being cooped up, thank you. Worked out that if she pushed her nose against her basket enough times the zips would come apart and she could make a bid for freedom.

Well, as much freedom as the back of one small hatchback loaded with bags, cat boxes, litter trays, cat beds and bedding would allow her.

The first I realised was when looking in the rear view mirror I saw the silhouette of a large furry cat wandering past the back window.

I pulled on to the hard shoulder - one of those points where it is really narrow. Jon pulled in behind me in Mum's car but, sensibly stayed in the car. We both knew that if I opened my car door the cat would be out like a shot.

I managed to persuade her back into the basket and found a piece of something to tie the zips together. We were now only about 30 minutes from home.

On arrival we found a very cold, very dark house which we had expected and a white garden full of snow - we hadn't expected that.

The cats were freed from their boxes in the kitchen. Queued up to use the litter trays and then hid under the sofa, the sideboard, anything they could find. One of them had been sitting for 12 hours on the unfortunate accident she had had back in Surrey and was a rather disgusting mess. Very embarrassed, she began to clean herself up.

Guess what we did?

We opened a bottle of champagne. Mum cooked us a nice meal.

The first day of the rest of our lives was nearly over.

One year on was it worth it? Yes. Are we happy? Yes. Do we find enough to do with our time, what with not going to work and all that?

Are you kidding?