Have you ever been really bored?
Until this week, I don’t think I had ever been even a little bored, but for the past 6 days, life has been surprisingly uninteresting and jaded.
Last Friday, we arrived at the cottage in France that belongs to my sister-in-law and her husband. They they have allowed us to stay here on our own for a couple of weeks this summer, and ever since we arrived, I have been bored stiff.
The cottage is delightful and Talais, the village where we are, in the northern part of the Medoc region of France, is quaint and unspoiled with a Gallic, no fuss, rustic beauty. It has a population of fewer than 700 but only has three operational functions: a church, a boulangerie and a bar/restaurant; no shops or anything else other than housing.
I was feeling unwell as we travelled down the motorway to London Luton airport last Friday to get the flight to Bordeaux but as the alternative to carrying on regardless, was staying in Wavendon and wasting a lot of money, I tried to make the best of it. “I’ll feel better tomorrow,” I kept telling myself.
A bombshell emerged just after we arrived on Friday evening. There was no internet! I felt worse than ever.
My computer informed me that I was connected to the router and it had WIFI, but it would not connect to any server. The company’s help desk had closed for the day at 7:00 p.m. and so we would have to wait 12 hours to seek assistance.
Caroline hardly slept on Friday night, her mind preparing for the technical conversation she was to have the next morning. It was to be a severe test of her ‘A’ grade, O Level French.
Following my wise advice, the first thing I heard her say on the phone to the technical adviser on Saturday morning was, “Parlez vous Anglais?”
Her broad smile and fist pump told me the answer. But, from that point, things got worse. The first time a technician could get to us is next Friday – in six days’ time.
So, here we are in exactly the same circumstances that we would have been in if it were 1995 and not 2025. Then, were all holiday makers in private accommodation bored? No of course, they weren’t.
What do people do if they are not catching up with the news on their laptops over breakfast? Do they talk to each other?
Thirty years ago, I would possibly have spent most days on the beautiful nearby beach at Soulac-sur-Mer. But thirty years ago, I doubt that the temperature had been at a constant 38°C, as it has been ever since we arrived. Shade is essential and beaches are not renowned for natural shade. Also, thirty years ago I was fitter and able to be more physically active and resourceful than I am now.
English newspapers are harder to find today than in the past. In 1967, three friends and I, travelled for five weeks by road to Dubrovnik and back. Throughout the whole trip, I maintained a news-time-lag of just 24 hours, largely by always being able to buy yesterday’s Daily Telegraph wherever we were.
The only newspaper I was able to here has been a day-old Financial Times. A chatty, friendly villager I met this morning, told me that 30 years ago, there was a kiosquier in Talais and he sold many different foreign newspapers.
By Monday afternoon, I was feeling a lot worse, suffering from the heat and as bored as I can imagine. I found that short naps were the best way to pass the time. How dull.
30 years ago, I suppose, the first thing we would have done on our first full day’s holiday, would have been to buy a number of postcards and then write and send them. That would have occupied an afternoon. Do people send postcards anymore? An email is so much more convenient.
This is a beautiful part of France but all there is to see are fields, pine forests, vineyards and coastline and all there is to do, is eat and drink. As I was feeling under the weather and very rough, I just sat in the shade in the coolest part of the garden I could find. God, I was bored!
I found a spot in Soulac on Tuesday where I could obtain 4G and I messaged my GP for advice. As I had to tell her my problem and symptoms, I suppose this is the time to tell you too:
I had chronic constipation and it was beginning to cause pain. My bowels had been inactive since the previous Wednesday and so it was now 6 days with no action. I was feeling worse every hour. I had hardly eaten for a week and virtually the only ‘sustenance’ I was having was water.
The surgery replied after an hour: “Visit a hospital or a pharmacy”.
Very helpful!
The nearest hospital is in Blaye which although it is “only” 40 miles away, it is on the far side of the Gironde estuary and so takes two hours to reach by road.
I went to a pharmacy in Saint Vivien de Medoc, five miles from us and walked up to the counter. I looked confidently at the young woman who was to serve me and in my very best French, I said,
“Parlez vous Anglais?”
“Comment?”
“Do you speak English?”
She smiled, tilted her head back a little, let out a tiny laugh and said,
“Aaah, d’accord.”
Then she stopped smiling, looked me straight in the face and said,
“Non!”
I had expected that and so I was ready.
“J'ai besoin d'un laxatif puissant.”
“Puissant?”
“Oui. Très, très puissant.”
She went to a shelf and picked up a packet. Then, she gabbled at me for a minute or two, occasionally jabbing her finger at the packet, until finally, almost with a look of pity on her face, she allowed me to buy it.
That was at 7:15 p.m. on Tuesday.
By 6:00 p.m. on Wednesday, I was cleared - and what a clearance it was!
Our two young grandchildren arrive tomorrow and there is no possibility whatsoever that I will be bored for the rest of the holiday. No more afternoon naps.
I will miss them.
