gerardcarey
Veteran Member
- Time of past OR future Camino
- CFx2, CPx1
I met her over dinner at L’Auberge du Pelerin in St Jean Pied de Port.
She’d walked out her front door in Munich, across Bavaria, Austria, Switzerland, and France.
And here was me, newly arrived and full of nervous doubt about whether I would even be able to complete my first day up into the Pyrenees.
Big soft thing I was. I was in awe of Barbara.
Next morning after wandering the Rue de la Citadelle I returned to the Auberge to find my heroine sitting on the grass in the back garden, red eyed and weeping, surrounded by screeds of wet gear and clothing.
“What’s the problem Barbara?” I gently enquired.
“The hospitalero got a phone call from the place I stayed at last. They said they had found a bedbug on my bunk,” she replied. “I’ve sprayed everything, and dumped my fleece and sleeping bag into the rubbish.”
“Crikey, that’s a bit dramatic,” I said. “Have you actually seen a bedbug yet?”
“No,” she said, “but I can’t stand the thought of them being in my stuff. I’m going down to that big camping shop in the town to get a new fleece and sleeping bag.”
“C’mon then mate,” I said, “get your head together, I’m coming too, let’s go.”
We walked down to the shop and found some reasonably priced replacements.
As we walked back I noticed her scratching.
“I've got the most terrible itchy scratchies,” she said, “probably my imagination, but I can’t help it and they won‘t go away.”
A tear ran down her cheek.
I had a sudden flash of inspiration.
“Follow me,” I said, "I know just the thing to get rid of the itchy scratchies.”
“How?” she asked, “Where?”
“Not far, probly just round the corner.”
“It’s a car wash,” I explained, “with those long floppy fabric strips that hang from the roof. Now I’ll shout you one car wash. You just have to get your kit off and get in there!
First you’ll be squirted here, there, and everywhere, with copious quantities of nice warm soapy water, and then those abrasive floppy strips will wallop you about your bum and your back and your boobs, and then you’ll get a good rinse and blow dry.
You won’t feel like scratching after you come out of there cobber!”
She looked at me as though I was a madman. Understandably.
But I was on a roll. I decided to press on.
“And that’s not all,” I said, “if you are especially good I’ll also shout you a polish as you come out the other end. No way any rotten bedbug will ever get through that!”
I watched as the idea pictures of her going through the car wash seeped into her brain.
A smile lit up her face. She started to laugh, and laugh, and laugh.
Now blokes like me are not usually very good at this touchy feely stuff, so the thought that I would in future only see smiles, and never a tear on my heroine’s face, made this episode the perfect start to my first Camino.
Buen start to your first, or next Camino.
Regds
Gerard
She’d walked out her front door in Munich, across Bavaria, Austria, Switzerland, and France.
And here was me, newly arrived and full of nervous doubt about whether I would even be able to complete my first day up into the Pyrenees.
Big soft thing I was. I was in awe of Barbara.
Next morning after wandering the Rue de la Citadelle I returned to the Auberge to find my heroine sitting on the grass in the back garden, red eyed and weeping, surrounded by screeds of wet gear and clothing.
“What’s the problem Barbara?” I gently enquired.
“The hospitalero got a phone call from the place I stayed at last. They said they had found a bedbug on my bunk,” she replied. “I’ve sprayed everything, and dumped my fleece and sleeping bag into the rubbish.”
“Crikey, that’s a bit dramatic,” I said. “Have you actually seen a bedbug yet?”
“No,” she said, “but I can’t stand the thought of them being in my stuff. I’m going down to that big camping shop in the town to get a new fleece and sleeping bag.”
“C’mon then mate,” I said, “get your head together, I’m coming too, let’s go.”
We walked down to the shop and found some reasonably priced replacements.
As we walked back I noticed her scratching.
“I've got the most terrible itchy scratchies,” she said, “probably my imagination, but I can’t help it and they won‘t go away.”
A tear ran down her cheek.
I had a sudden flash of inspiration.
“Follow me,” I said, "I know just the thing to get rid of the itchy scratchies.”
“How?” she asked, “Where?”
“Not far, probly just round the corner.”
“It’s a car wash,” I explained, “with those long floppy fabric strips that hang from the roof. Now I’ll shout you one car wash. You just have to get your kit off and get in there!
First you’ll be squirted here, there, and everywhere, with copious quantities of nice warm soapy water, and then those abrasive floppy strips will wallop you about your bum and your back and your boobs, and then you’ll get a good rinse and blow dry.
You won’t feel like scratching after you come out of there cobber!”
She looked at me as though I was a madman. Understandably.
But I was on a roll. I decided to press on.
“And that’s not all,” I said, “if you are especially good I’ll also shout you a polish as you come out the other end. No way any rotten bedbug will ever get through that!”
I watched as the idea pictures of her going through the car wash seeped into her brain.
A smile lit up her face. She started to laugh, and laugh, and laugh.
Now blokes like me are not usually very good at this touchy feely stuff, so the thought that I would in future only see smiles, and never a tear on my heroine’s face, made this episode the perfect start to my first Camino.
Buen start to your first, or next Camino.
Regds
Gerard
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