A chat line too far

Off to France on Saturday morning and frankly I can't wait. Despite the early ferry, despite the bottom numbingly long car journey and despite the fact that the road tolls seem to have spirelled out of control, I still can't wait. It's reminded me of part of a trip I took over there last year, when I realised yet again that I couldn't fly and having abandoned my partner on the tarmac I had to get myself down to the house, preferably before he reached it. This resulted in the least cost effective route devised by man and my having to buy first class tickets all the way, having begged a bed for the night from a friend in Paris. As the minutes ticked away the next morning, I found myself in a queue at Gare de Lyon. Now I’m no doctor but the French man in front of me is sweating like I’ve never seen before. Being of a menopausal disposition it is something one recognises unfortunately. As he was a man and young to boot, there is only one other conclusion to draw from this. I read the Daily Mail. He has all the symptoms. He obviously has swine flu. Did I mention he’s also coughing and sneezing? Ordinarily this would be a heavy cold, but not now. Now, he is utterly contagious and I must move away from him at all costs. The problem is I am close to missing my train and I don’t know how long my broken French conversation is going to take. I have to explain that the automated machine isn’t recognising my name and is refusing to spew out my pre booked ticket. Plus I have a rather smelly woman following me and she is hovering around my handbag waiting to pounce, so I have no choice. Instant death in the queue by Swine flu.
Now it’s not easy to avoid offending someone as you lean away at an acute angle and attempt to wrap a jumper tightly around your face at the same time. So I opt for the simpler approach of just not breathing. At the point of my passing out I notice a whistling man who ignores the snaking queue completely and approaches the ticket booth from the exit end. Incensed at his lack of fair play I utter a ‘well that’s just charming’ thereby taking a huge intake of air and becoming instantly contagious.

Once on the train I realise that a whole herd of swine have decided to big it up and cough their way through first class and therefore I might as well relax and settle into imminent death throws.

It’s unspeakably early as we pull out of the station and as I snooze my way through the suburbs a tap on the shoulder delivers a polite enquiry.
‘Would you mind closing the window blind?’
I was slightly miffed as I did want to watch the countryside wiz pass, but turning to reply I found a rather good looking black man smiling back at me!
‘No problem.’ I replied a little too readily.
I sneaked a quick look. Well dressed, tall, suited and booted. I wonder what he does for a living?

Three hours later I found out.

‘Tell me lovely lady’ a waft of halitosis drifted over my nose ‘what is your name’
‘Pardon?’
‘You can tell me that can’t you, this is a big world?’
Now I don’t think I am particularly prudish but when a man I don’t know asks for my name and sits just that bit too close the alarm bells begin to ring.
‘Will you get off with me in Montpellier and have a coffee?’
Do I l look like a complete fool?
‘I can show you around and we can just enjoy each other’s company.’
Oh come on, did he think I was born yesterday?
‘No I’m afraid that won’t be possible.’
‘Well, what if I get off in Narbonne with you?’
I had lied about getting out in Narbonne as I was going to Perpignan but the presence of Paul waiting to greet me didn’t seem to put him off. Had this man no shame?

Anyway, all this and me in first class. I ask you.