Tourists from hell R Us

This morning, somewhat uncharacteristically, we made a snap decision. Without so much as a discussion we raced up to the Tourist Information Office and signed up for a tour of Chalons. Made it with moments to spare and not enough time to reconsider.

We met our guide. She was elegant, of mature years and did not speak any English. She saw us and two fidgety young boys and had a mild panic. Within moments she had enlisted the help of an English-speaking assistant and explained to us that she would be our translator.

We set off on our tour. First stop : St Alpin’s Church. I’m sure it is a very interesting church, but our translator steadfastly ignored us and our guide was besotted with the stained glass windows. They weren’t the only things glazed : the boys had a thousand yard stare. Andy decided to make up his own stories about the windows and their imagery. The stories became more and more irreverent. I tried my best to listen to the guide, but Andy’s stories soon became much more interesting. Then the boys joined in and soon shoulders shook as giggles were suppressed. I think we might have been a bit badly behaved.

At last. Left the church and trotted down to the Town Hall. Not much better here. Andy walked in and started to comment on how it would make a good film location. Meanwhile I got a fit of the giggles when looking at the chandeliers because I reverted to Only Fools and Horses humour. The kids slumped on a bench with their DS game, which proved a little embarrassing because the bench became a focal point of the tour!

Escaped the Town Hall and realised that we were now the main element of the tour group. Our translator (who never spoke) disappeared, and so did the rest of the tourists. We were left with our guide and a journalist who had just arrived. We descended into the town’s medieval cellars and nodded at everything the guide said. The journalist took photos of us looking interested. Finally it was all over and we could go. We bade farewell and our guide looked relieved. But then Dan stole the show. He walked up to our guide. He shook her hand, and said in perfect French “Merci Madame. Enchante.” Our guide melted and beamed at us. We were redeemed.