Day 1

Welcome to Chapter 16. Another adventure begins and, at just 21 months old, it’s hard to believe this is already Alexander’s fourth trip abroad. Frankly, he’s becoming more well travelled than most adults we know. As part of Anna’s 30th birthday, her one request was simple: sunshine somewhere during her week off in May. Months passed, we looked at holidays, ignored holidays, and waited for the inevitable travel blogger invitation for Gin and Travel that never arrived. Eventually we had emotionally committed ourselves to a glamorous week in Portsalon. Then Ryanair dropped £17.99 flights to Paris and we were booked that same day!

A week before departure, purely by chance, I checked the passports. Anna’s expired in July. Now, thanks to Brexit and various fun new rules, you apparently need three months left on your passport to travel to France. Shit… Normally I’m the organised one. Spreadsheets, folders, printed confirmations, backup confirmations, all sorted. But life has been slightly chaotic recently. Not to worry, we thought, we booked an urgent passport appointment. On Friday, while Anna was teaching, I headed to Belfast to sort it. Unfortunately her passport still said Kilgore, while she is now very much a Fields. I’ll spare you the thrilling administrative details but basically I left empty handed and clueless as what to do. We managed to get another appointment for Tuesday, since the office was closed Monday. So we made a slightly unhinged decision. I would fly to France on Monday with Alexander as planned and Anna would hopefully join us on Tuesday if the passport gods showed mercy. Not exactly the relaxing start to a holiday we had imagined. Then again, Paris has always been a bit cursed for us, mainly for Anna. Chapter 2 involved airport disasters and a puncture on the way to Dublin Airport. Before that her bus broke down on a school trip to Paris, and before that she broke her ankle the day before travelling there. The omens were not particularly encouraging.

The morning was spent panic packing, making an emergency trip to Next for more T-shirts and saying goodbye to Papi and Gran Gran. France was in the middle of a heatwave so thankfully there wasn’t much packing required beyond shorts and suncream. Anna drove us to Belfast International before heading to stay with Matthew, Kate and Essie and to meet baby Juliette, who was just over a week old. Despite roadworks and traffic chaos at the airport drop off, everything actually went smoothly. Alexander and I waved goodbye to Mummy for 24 hours and headed inside.

I immediately spotted the assistance queue at security and made a tactical beeline for it. Single dad travelling with toddler - Absolutely using that card. It skipped about 100 people waiting for Belfast’s only open security scanner. Unfortunately security then decided literally everything we owned was suspicious. The pram got “red flagged”, which sounds deeply criminal. The suitcase got searched, the backpack got searched, and Alexander’s milk and suncream were inspected like we were in the smuggling business. The staff though were brilliant, everyone helped carry trays and bags while I attempted to juggle a toddler, pram, backpack and keep the sweat inside my forehead the best I could. Eventually, we escaped and wandered through Belfast International, which has completely changed since the last time I was there. We spent half an hour exploring before boarding was called.

Thanks to Ryanair Priority we somehow ended up about tenth on the plane. Carrying Alexander, a pram, a suitcase and a backpack down the stairs to the plane and the heat nearly finished me off. Someone offered help with three steps left to go which, while appreciated, felt slightly late in the process. Still, we made it. Somehow we ended up with not just Anna’s empty seat beside us, but the seat beside that too. Luxury. Alexander was absolutely brilliant on the flight. We looked out the window, had a mid-air picnic of pancakes and breadsticks and generally survived.

The only meltdown came during landing when he had to sit on my knee again. No nap all day either, which was concerning considering France was an hour ahead. But before long we landed at Beauvais. Credit where it’s due, passport control was excellent. Last time we were here it was absolute carnage but this time they had eight staff waiting just for our plane. We found Hertz, collected our car and ready to go. Poor Alexander was absolutely melting in the 32 degree heat while I attempted to install a car seat into a boiling hot Renault Clio. Rental companies apparently aren’t allowed to help install them, so there I was sweating through every layer of clothing while he sat in the pram watching me like a tiny disappointed manager. Finally we got moving and within minutes of calling Anna on speakerphone, Alexander fell asleep.

A shame really because he missed the drive through proper rural France. Endless fields, long grass, tiny villages and random chateaus appearing out of nowhere. It genuinely looked like someone had designed “French countryside” in a film set.

The original plan was to stop for dinner and shopping, but we had forgotten one important thing. Europe takes Mondays very seriously. Everything was closed. Eventually we found a Lidl that appeared to be open. Success. We grabbed pizza, pasta and essentials. Weirdly there was not a single bottle of milk in the place. Not one. Alexander did however enjoy his first proper French pain au chocolat. Lidl-made French still counts.

We finally arrived at our accommodation in Saint-Marcel, just outside Vernon, a lovely little cottage style granny flat attached to a house with its own garden and swimming pool. Settling in was complete chaos. Alexander wanted to explore every corner of the property while I attempted to cook dinner, unpack bags and assemble the travel cot from hell. The same cot we used to use and still cannot successfully operate. After twenty minutes of wrestling it while also preventing Alexander from entering either the oven or the swimming pool, I gave up entirely. We had dinner outside in the garden while the sun started to set.

With the late car nap and the time difference, sleep was never going to come easily. We watched French dubbed Bluey followed by several videos of tractors harvesting carrots, which for Alexander is basically meditation. I still hadn’t sorted the cot yet! Anna can deal with that tomorrow.

Also, with no milk in Lidl and none in the cottage either, bedtime became what the internet would probably call “rawdogging it”. Just water and persistence. Eventually, somehow, both of us fell asleep. Couldn’t even tell you what time it was. But honestly, Alexander was incredible today, and together we survived Day one.