Let’s do this together

COMMUNITY CORNER

The sky-high cost of flights to the Alps this half term has driven me back on to the French motorways. It would be more relaxing and eco-friendly to go by train to Geneva. But having checked the timetable for the first day of the school holiday, the train into London that morning would take three hours due to engineering works.

The ENTIRE journey from London St Pancras to Geneva is six hours, with a break for lunch in Paris.

The way our broken train system is going, it’s only a matter of time before this hapless government un-invents the steam locomotive and we all go back to horse and cart.

It would certainly be quicker plus you’d get all-the-hay-you-can-eat from the in-cart dining service.

Instead, I’ve decided to pack up the car, and drive 712 miles to my friend Alison’s house in France for our annual week of snow.

The Dark Lord was at first delighted to be going again since we missed it last year, as she loves snowboarding. But she’s now quietly seething because we were meant to be going with friends who can no longer join us.

This means she has to spend 1,424 miles and seven l-o-n-g days with just me.

I can’t wait, of course, while she is torn between being back on the slopes, and cutting off a limb just to scupper a week’s holiday with me.

Breaking the news to her, I trilled: “Just think, all that precious mummy and daughter time to chat and…”

She looked horrified and said quickly: “Er no, I’ll have my earphones in.”

“Not for 12 hours you won’t,” I replied. “It’ll be an adventure, and maybe we can stop somewhere overnight on the way.”

She growled: “Yes, we did that the last time you drove, remember? Except we all had to share one motel room because we got stuck in the blizzard on the French motorway and it took nearly three days to get home.”

“Ah yes,” I said guiltily. “I didn’t think you’d remember that.”

Email me at siobhan.mcnally@mirror.co.uk or write to Community Corner, PO Box 791, Winchester SO23 3RP.