So we had eaten well and the bed seemed comfortable. But this was not the sort of hotel that provides lavish quantities of gels and lotions. All that was provided, in fact, were two slivers of soap - packaged slivers, admittedly, but still slivers not much bigger than pats of butter. No shower gel, no shampoo and no toothpaste. We had none of those either as we leave all that sort of thing at the house. No point in constantly lugging things like that back and forth. So we cleaned our teeth with water and sunk beneath the blanket.
Although I usually need an alarm clock to wake me, I was awake the next morning before the alarm call I had set on the phone. This, most unusually, was to be the pattern of the week. I glanced out of the window and saw
Snow had fallen overnight and lay six inches deep across the hotel car park. Not to worry, I thought to myself. The French are very good at clearing the roads. I showered (Mrs S couldn't as the shower was over the bath which she can't climb into) and we ate breakfast. Afterwards I repacked the few things we had taken from the suitcase and returned the key to the gentleman on the reception desk, explaining that we expected a taxi at some time and would wait in the armchairs in the vestibule.
Sometime about mid-morning my phone rang. It was the insurance company to tell me that there were no car hire agencies open anywhere in the area, this being Sunday and France closing down on Sundays. I went and checked in again and deposited our luggage in the same room.
Lunch was very pleasant - after we had managed to plough through the snow.
We spent the afternoon in the hotel vestibule reading every word of Saturday's paper (which I had bought at the tunnel terminal) and doing every puzzle possible - or attempting them. Somehow our brains seemed a little clogged up. But eventually enough time passed for us to trudge across to the restaurant once more for another pleasant evening meal and a chance to practise my rapidly improving French on the charming waitresses.