Lol, I just googled that; I did watch some of that series but didnāt know theyād made one about French sleeper trains!
Yeah, as I said, someone screwed up our travel arrangements so that we ended up sharing a six-berth cabin with strangers. The outward journey we shared with a young American women who told us that it was the first time sheād ever shared the journey with a family and that we were much nicer travelling companions than some of the characters sheād travelled with. She didnāt go into details - I donāt think she wanted to scare the children - and whether she still felt the same way after spending the night with us, I couldnāt say. However, it did seem far too small and intimate a space for a young family to be sharing with strangers. During the trip I also discovered that one of the urinals in the communal toilet at that end of the train was leaking and the floor was covered in piss.
But the real fun and games occurred on the homeward journey, which we shared with two Frenchmen. The first was a smarmy David Ginola type who Mrs Stickman seemed to take an instant shine to; the second was about six and a half feet tall, built like a brick-shit-house, and incredibly moody. On entering the cabin he ignored my outstretched hand, growled something in French, which Ginola-chap roughly translated as: āIām very tired, I want to sleep, I donāt want to be disturbedā; and without further ado he removed my stuff from the bottom bunk, pulled down the blinds, closed the cabin door, turned off the lights, undressed, and climbed into bed.
There was just about enough light for me to notice my kids glance at their mother; she glanced at Ginola-chap; he glanced at me; and I completed the circle by glancing at Mrs Stickman, whilst thinking; āthis will be the last time youāll be making the fucking travel arrangementsā.
I slept fitfully that night: part of the time I spent wondering whether Mrs Stickman and Ginola-chap were sleeping or whatever; part of the time I spent planing what I would do if brick-shit-house-chap turned out be a psychotic child-killer; but most of the time I spent wondering how a human-being could snore that fucking loudly.
Anyway, I must have gone to sleep at some point because half way through that long night I woke up breaking my neck for a piss. I didnāt dare disturb brick-shit-house-chap by turning on the light, but, fumbling around in the darkness, the only pair of shoes I could find were his. A few moments later I found myself pissing into an overflowing urinal, stood in a pair of shoes at least six or seven sizes too big, whilst praying their owner hadnāt woken up and noticed they were missing. It was at that point I resolved the next time we travelled it would be by fucking aeroplane.
