Charli Mills’ prompt this week is
March 9, 2017 prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less) write a honeymoon story. It can be between a couple before, during or after the honeymoon. Or it can refer to a honeymoon period. Go where the prompt leads.
So you’ve done the marriage bit; what image does a honeymoon conjure up, in your mind’s eye? Choirs of angels, aching cheek muscles from smiling, romantic dinners a deux, a vast amount of sex?
Mine was, well, a curio. We’d bought a flat and a car and were pretty skint. So we decided on 4 days in Paris, the home of romance etc etc. Only I booked it, so the incipient CEO of Dickhead Tours was at work early on. If I had plans on my honeymoon involving all of the above I should have left the planning to others.
Errors came early; don’t go cheap on the flights and don’t be a 24 Hour clock illiterate. If you have a flight at 14.40 do not under any circumstances read that as 4.40. Even in the days when you could still run for a plane carrying your suitcase and dump it by the stairs to be stuffed in the hold. We made it by the skin of the proverbial but we delayed the flight by some 20 minutes and there were definite mumblings. And the cheap? Well there’s this Paris airport called Beauvais. It makes Stanstead seem close. We landed at about 4pm and arrived at our hotel in the Rue de Russe at 9pm.
Was Paris a 24 hour city as we had heard? Was it buggery. We were desperate for some of the delightful French cuisine famed the world over, but our first meal as a married couple? Deux Grand Macs at Les Arches d’Or.
Our hotel bordered on the quaint. The only trouble was that rather than approach ‘quaint’ from ‘normal’ on the hotel spectrum, we were coming from the ‘Bates Motel’ end of the curve. The proprietor had both a grudge and a tick; he wore a waistcoat with a tricolour on it and refused to countenance any language except his own. It wasn’t that he ‘showed us to our room’ so much as ‘escorted us to our cell’. The mattress was knobbled, this was the first bolster we had seen and we spent hours fruitlessly trying to unravel it and the shower, sink and toilet – soi-disant an ensuite – were all as one, so much so that we learnt to our cost you needed to remove the toilet roll before taking a shower or you would be papier-mâchéing your own paper sheets for the duration.
We loved Paris; we walked and walked.
We saw the Louvre and Sacre-Coeur.
We fell in love with the Place du Tertre and the artists.
We ate little, having bugger all cash, and drank coffee and cheap red wine. We climbed the Eiffel Tower and L’Arc De Triomphe.
We took a Bateau Mouche and stopped off at L’Ile de la Cite to visit Notre Dame. We drooled over the art in the Jeu de Paume and ate ice creams around the monolith in Le Place de la Concorde as we learnt about boule for the first time.
But that bit about loving trysts in knotted sheets? Not on that bed matey, however keen you might be.
And this week’s flash, involving Mary and her half brother Rupert…
The Honeymoon Period
Rupert sipped the tea. ‘She’s a nightmare. Total dragon.’
Mary smiled; Rupert always exaggerated the downsides. ‘It’s a bit early to decide that.’
Rupert shrugged. ‘As a new boss, you’d think she’d find out what we can do first. Allow a honeymoon period for settling in.’
‘Well I hope it’s better than my honeymoon. We lost the luggage, Paul broke his toe on the first day and I got an infected mozzie bite.’
‘Not really; we got to spend a lot of time in our room.’ She winked.
‘Muuuuum that’s gross.’
Mary laughed. ‘Every cloud, you know.’
And here’s where you can catch up with Mary and her family