H –When I told people before I left for France that I was going to spend the summer on a camel farm, their reactions were many and varied, but the general gist was “you’re mad”. My response was to admit to this diagnosis of insanity, but I would always add “at least it’ll make a great story for my grandkids.” And now I can say with certainty, Granny Harriet is going to have some corkers to tell.
So, this is my final blog. I’m now at home in Birmingham, sat in the kitchen, huddling against the Aga while the rain is pouring outside. Welcome back to the UK...
The road trip home was... um... interesting. We left the Maison on Tuesday morning. Scotty was packed in a tetris style, bursting at the seams with giant courgettes and jars of jam.
A statistical breakdown of the journey would read something like this:
1001km driven
3 days on the road
2 cheap and cheerful chain hotels (with questionable shared shower/toilet arrangements)
1 MacDonalds and 1 Buffalo Grill (not proud of either)
3 hours finding hotel in Poitiers during rush hour traffic
27 turnings Harriet missed on the motorway
27 times Andy had to bite his tongue after turnings missed on the motorway (sorry Andy)
45mins in Intermarche while Andy ‘expertly’ chose wines (“this one has a nice label”)
A 3am wake up call
A 5am ferry
5 hours crossing The Channel (spent snoozing and getting cricked neck)
2 relieved Brits back on home soil.
Andy and I arrived home 10 days ago now, and the readjustment has been an interesting one. After initally being greeted by parents and being suitable hugged and fussed over I was sent away to wash myself, clothes, car, etc. In short, a decontamination process. About four days later mum walked upstairs, poked her head around my bedroom door, sniffed and said “something still doesn’t smell right.” So the aroma of farm was more deeply engrained that I’d imagined...
I’ve also had a chance to think about our time on the farm. In terms of life experiences, three months at La Maison des Chameaux has given us so much. We’ve had the chance to sample country living, gain an understanding of animals and their wellbeing, meet and live with a variety of amazing people and improve dramatically our French speaking skills. And all whilst getting a tan.
As Andy and I head back to Nottingham this week for our final year at University it’s time to knuckle down to some serious studying. But I know that when we are in the depths of an essay crisis or wallowing in the pile of revision notes, we can always share a cup of tea and remember the days we spent working on a camel farm in the South of France.
“Le chameau ne voit jamais sa bosse mais celle de son frère.”
