It seems Bob was worried that the weight of his wife and the luggage would cause the car to scrape the ferry ramp and cause some damage.
He eventually allowed her into the car but not until he had driven around the island for half an hour and found a high kerb so he could inspect the underneath of his beloved, the car that is, to make sure it was still pristine.
All this hoo-ha meant not only were we late for dinner but we also missed Forest winning the cup with a great goal from the legendary Trevor Francis. I took it well I felt, after all, we were on holiday.
The next morning we climbed into my car – a Citroen. The Lotus had been carefully parked in the drive. We drove a little way inland and at a lively street market we bought baguettes, cheese and a big bag of oysters and langoustines for lunch. We also enjoyed a couple of glasses of Pastis before heading home.
Everything was going swimmingly, we were getting along well. A bottle of wine was opened but I stuck to my favourite, Pastis, whilst shucking the oysters. Alas, the sunshine and alcohol combined to make me a tad careless. Without warning the oyster knife slipped and buried its point in the fleshy part of my hand under the thumb.
The Pastis I had been enjoying went flying and landed with a thwack on the bonnet of the lotus. There it mixed with the jet of blood shooting from my hand and the juices from the open oysters and shellfish which, perhaps slightly foolishly, I had put on a plate balanced on the car’s bonnet.
Now, I am not a chemist but Pastis, oyster juice and blood when combined make for a pretty good paint stripper. It was with abject horror that we watched helplessly as the blue paint blistered and fell away from the car. Bob was by now hysterical, frantically wiping the car with a cloth which unfortunately made things worse - though I doubt his tears dropping into the mix helped very much.
Shouting at Jean to get the cases, he climbed into the car and they drove off at great speed, stopping only to remove the oyster knife from the now deflated front tyre.
It was the last time we ever saw them. His resignation was on my desk when I returned from what was a great holiday. From time to time nearly 40 years later, I still see his car winning prizes at shows, though now it is blood red in colour!
The French use the phrase "je suis dans le pastis" which means – I’m in trouble, based on the fact that Pastis, a strong drink, can have a strong effect if you drink too much! It is an an aniseed-flavored spirit, normally diluted with cold water which turns the liquid cloudy. It’s popular to add mint syrup to the diluted Pastis in summer for a cocktail called a “Perroquet” (parrot)…