The air was spiced like cinnamon; warm, inviting, balmy, where the lark ceased to grace above a warm earthiness of lush summer grass, but there was a hint of exotic flowers growing in gardens of abundance in this coastal haven on the edge of France.
Harry sniffed at it, enticing his senses, sending them reeling. He glanced over at Tony, who was enjoying a different sort of cocktail from any he'd ever indulged in, sending his senses reeling, but in a very different way to Harry's. He rolled his eyes and grinned.
'Good God! What's this I've been given eh, dear boy? It's enough to blow your head off!' Then raised his eyebrows with a chuckle.
Harry settled back comfortably in an old squashy leather chair near the bar, overlooking a delicious looking sandy beach with emerald clear water. Beautiful girls were sprawled out on towels, captivating, exquisite, brown as berries, wearing nothing more than what appeared to ageing eyes, as their undergarments.
He picked up his beer cold as ice, sipping its flavour, savouring the experience, which tasted hoppy with liveliness and a hint of fruit.
Not far away was a small island, attached to the mainland by a foot bridge, where couples strolled hand-in-hand; its vegetation mellow in the soft evening glow of early autumn. The sea turned turquoise, then silvery, as the sun dipped its rays into the sea, lapping gently, waves almost nondescript upon pale golden sand, stretching for miles.
'Hmmm,' Harry uttered contentedly. 'This is the life,' before adding, 'I wonder if she's gone to bed yet.'
'Who?' asked Tony.
'You know who. Her, of course!'
'Who's her?' Tony half turned from the delightful spectacle presenting itself on the beach.
'Miss Madam of course,' Harry said, not taking his eyes from the two drops of condensation, slowly oozing down the side of his beer glass, watching their progress.
'Oh her! Goodness knows and I don't care either,' said Tony, not wishing to give another thought to Miss Madam.
They'd called it that from the first day of their vacation. The sat/nav Harry had installed in the dashboard of his black Mercedes car, was fast becoming part of their journey, involved in their lives, almost human you might say. She had a voice like burnt honey, and what a voice it was becoming; authoritative, imposing, bossy. Athough it was in clear crisp English, the sort one used to here on the BBC, the 'Voice' talked back and appeared to have a life of its own, much to the annoyance of both gentlemen. But the sat/nav had to stay. It got them out of trouble many a time, also landing them in it too!
The two ageing friends were stopping put for a few days in this delectable seaside town, not far from the Pyrenees, the journey from England having so far being uneventful, much to their relief; an overnight crossing to northern Spain, then along the coast to where they were now ensconced, with a feeling of achievement and quiet satisfaction.
Both men were well and truly retired in some form or another, the twilight of their years upon them, both determined to enjoy themselves while they were still able to put one foot in front of the other. Their health was holding out for now, each having already experienced their share of aches and pains. They had decided to throw caution to the wind and carry on regardless. As it had been a long wait for this vacation, they were determined to enjoy it.
Harry finished his beer and ordered another.
'You know Miss Madam almost frightens me,' he said with a whimsical tone to his voice.
'That's nuts and you know it!' replied Tony, still a little under the weather after experiencing that monstrous cocktail. He considered indulging in another, just to see what would happen, but ordered a beer instead, common sense getting the better of him.
'Then why does she talk back to us huh? That's nuts!'
Tony considered this for a moment, taking a long draught of his cold beer, frowning.
'Perhaps you bought an odd one,' he offered, not at all convinced.
'You can say that again!' Harry replied. 'You couldn't get more odd than her!'
'There you go again, calling that sat/nav a 'her' retorted Tony. 'But it is weird I grant you. Whoever heard of a sat/nav answering back and talking the way Miss Madam does?'
Early in their drive to the ferry in England, they had nicknamed the satellite navigation unit 'Miss Madam', because as it turned out, she was most authoritative and particular with her orders.
'Well I for one feel very nervous at times.'
Harry finished his second beer, deciding that was enough for now. Soon they would be eating supper, indulging in a fine red wine. That was their favourite, with plenty to choose from now they were in France. Although there was always a decent choice near home for both men.
Deciding to look for a nice cosy brasserie , hopefully offering a good choice of food, they stood up with considerable effort, paid the bill and toddled off.
After a few more days luxuriating beside the sun-washed sand and sea of the Atlantic, they headed east in an area of the Pyrenees.
As Harry drove his black Mercedes away from the coast, he'd already entered the daily instructions and destination for Miss Madam.
She had a habit of always choosing the most direct route, whether they'd agreed or not. It was a matter of follow her instructions, or the map. So Harry and Tony decided to trust her for now, seeing what would happen.
It had been a straightforward drive away from the coast onto a main autoroute, Harry remembering in the nick of time to venture onto a large roundabout in an anticlockwise direction. He indicated quickly, swinging the wheel to the left, but the French were unimpressed with his manoeuvres. Harry swore at them politely, while Tony just held his breath.
Then it was a simple matter of staying on the autoroute, except when they were approaching any roundabouts, Miss Madam would announce in her perfect crisp and decisive English, "at the roundabout in four hundred yards, take the second exit." She would always repeat the command much closer, "take the second exit at the roundabout." She'd obviously decided to stick to the English measurements of yards, rather than meters. The second exit usually meant go straight ahead, as both men soon learned. The next command would be delivered thus - "continue for eighty kilometers."
All would go quiet for at least that length of driving and as often as not, sometimes no command at all.
'She's having a coffee I bet,' announced Tony.
'A croissant too maybe,' replied Harry. 'Why so quiet I wonder?'
'I heard that!' came a voice from somewhere near the dashboard. 'You need no more instructions for now, alright?'
Tony snapped his head around towards Harry, who just kept on driving.
'I wonder if we have to put up with this the whole journey?'
'Yes you do if you want my assistance!' retorted Miss Madam.
Harry frowned, wondering what the devil was going on.
'We could turn her off if you like, as I think we simply continue on this road for now,' he suggested.
'I wouldn't do that if I was you,' came the reply, in no uncertain terms.
'Good God! What now?' said Tony in a quieter voice to Harry.
'Perhaps she's right!'
'I am!' was the reply.
A decision was made to head almost due east alongside the Pyrenees, the mountains drenched in the mists of time, scattered aimlessly along a stretch of majestic mystique; shadowed valleys almost endless, that breathed a multitude of different weather, gathering it from the land and sea; an earthiness gripping its skirts, like a ladies mantle in winter.
'They're really something, aren't they?' Tony pointed out, looking at the range of towering mountains to their right.
They were to stay in a hotel, close to the very old hilltop walled town of Carcassonne, in the region of Languedoc-Roussillon, its strategic importance quickly recognized by the Romans, who occupied the hilltop until the demise of their western empire and then it was taken over in the fifth century. Many rulers consequently built successfully upon the hilltop and although both Harry and Tony had visited before, were keen to return. Harry in particular, as he possessed a keen interest in medieval history.
So they sought out the same hotel nearby. In fact it was situated conveniently across the road, near the entrance to the fortifications.
Harry swept the car into the adjoining car park after hours of driving, sighing with relief, pleased to have arrived for a much needed rest. Although he more or less knew the way, a voice announced - "you have reached your destination!"
'That's nice to know,' agreed Tony with a grin.
He carried most of the bags to the hotel entrance, while Harry checked the car doors were locked carefully. The weather was becoming hot and even a little sultry, Perhaps a thunderstorm was expected, he thought shedding a jacket as he joined Tony at reception.
Their rooms were booked in advance, so they made their way up some stairs to the first floor, rather than take the lift, which was nowhere to be seen. The corridors were dark and foreboding, painted black, with silver on some wallpaper.
'I remember this from the last time,' moaned Harry. 'It hasn't changed since, unfortunately. But I suppose we'll get used to it again. After all, we won't be here a lot of the time.'
It was now late afternoon and Tony suggested he was ready for a cold beer.
'I'm with you there, old boy,' replied Harry, opening the door of his room.
'Meet you downstairs in half an hour.'
Tony entered his room, immediately turning on the air conditioning as low as possible.
Both friends strolled across the road, entering the walled town of Carcassonne through the main gates, upward toward the restaurants, bars, small scattering of shops and boutiques.
The atmosphere was relaxed as people wandered here and there, settling down in small groups, sitting outside enjoying a drink or two in the warmth of the evening. It still felt very warm and sultry.
'What will you have my friend?'
Tony was well aware Harry was likely to sit on his hands for a while, waiting and watching. So after Harry indicated the same draught beer he always liked first up, Tony ordered two cold beers from the young waiter. Harry usually made up for it eventually, as he was very partial to drinking an excellent bottle of red wine at supper time, enjoying the choice here in France. But it often depended where they ate. Sometimes the wine menu was limited, so he chose carefully, Tony never had any objections, trusting his friend's judgment.
After the first pint, they settled back to relax, enjoying the atmosphere, noticing how the sky was becoming black, threatening.
'Do you think we're in for a storm?' asked Tony, taking another long draught of his beer, glancing upwards to a darkening sky.
'Could be,' answered Harry. 'Don't like the look of it myself.'
A few moments later, there was a sharp clap of thunder after a flash of lightning, almost overhead.
'Yep! It's a storm alright!'
Tony placed his beer glass on the table, wondering if they should seek shelter before it rained. Immediately he felt the first cold drops upon his head.
'Let's go inside,' he said grabbing the remains of his beer, as he got up from the table - Harry in hot pursuit. They left the remaining mixture of olives with tooth picks in a small dish on the table, as large drops splashed the old narrow cobbled street, turning it glowing with warm colours, as the evening lights began reflecting in gathering puddles.
Rain pelted down in a shower of violence, as people ran in different directions to escape a soaking.
As was the custom, they eventually ordered a meal. Steak frites with salad was on the menu, so staying where they were, as the rain became ferocious for a time, they continued relaxing over a pleasant meal.
Eventually the skies cleared, as it was time to return to their hotel. It had been a long day driving and their beds were beckoning.
Three nights and two full days were enjoyed, wandering the ramparts of this large fortified Cite de Carcassonne, where many towers were built over a long period of time; barbicans to prevent attack from siege engines; one section of roof notably different to the rest being Roman, to that of the medieval ones.
Harry became animated when he walked through old archways and into one of the towers, being thirteenth century and still known as "The Inquisition Tower."
'Would you look at this!' he cried, feeling the stone wall, as if it was a woman's body.
'I've seen it all before,' replied Tony. 'Don't you remember the last time we were here? 'You did exactly the same thing on that occasion.'
'Oh! Did I?' Harry was not put off with Tony's understated reaction. He thought many a time of writing a book of that period, but kept procrastinating. He thought his age prevented it, but knew deep down that was yet another excuse for getting serious.
As in the Dylan Thomas poem - "I dreamed my genesis and died again," Harry shrugged his shoulders and wandered on.
Eventually it was time to depart and seek further horizons, the next stop being Avignon. As neither had been there before, they looked forward to a new experience.
Harry entered the address of the hotel in the sat/nav, with all the necessary details for Miss Madam to be getting on with. So they set off confidently, the weather reverting to sunshine with the sky speckled with a variation-on-a-theme of coloured clouds, the sun turning them from pink and grey in the morning, to pale blue and white-tipped in the early afternoon.
The usual directions were dictated by the "lady of the dashboard" and after a long enough distance, they entered the outside perimeter of Avignon.
'So far, so good,' muttered Tony, as Harry swung the Mercedes to the left of the last roundabout, hoping for exact directions to the hotel, near the center of town, as they'd hoped.
"Before the next intersection, prepare to bear right," Miss Madam ordered.
'That can't be difficult,' said Harry hopefully. Clear and concise!'
But then all hell broke loose. There was more than one road bearing right and the road they were travelling on had a multitude of lanes, the traffic so thick. Which one to choose?
Approaching the intersection a little too promptly, Harry digressed and kept going.
'Damn and blast! Now what?' he pleaded hopefully. Miss Madam had recognized his mistake, carefully picking up the reins once more.
'At the next intersection, bear sharp right!'
'Okay,' said Tony, confidence returning. 'But I don't like the look of all these narrow medieval streets. Traffic wasn't like this in those days!'
'How true!' sighed Harry, starting to get hot and bothered.
They appeared to be going round in a circle, the same narrow, one-way streets becoming worse than the last time they'd ventured down them. The corners were tight, roads blocked with traffic, making it difficult to see what was up ahead.
Miss Madam seemed to be taking them on the same route over and over, becoming more than tedious for poor Harry, not knowing what to do after the third time; Miss Madam announcing, "you have reached your destination!"
'What destination?'
Tony suggested they park the car and study the map, but it was perfectly obvious, there was no parking, nor was there anywhere they could stop in order to check the map. They were almost literally up-the-creek-without-a-paddle. Miss Madam had thrown up her hands, abandoning them in their hour of need.
'We are going to have to stop somewhere,' groaned Harry. 'This cannot continue. It's ridiculous!' he replied, utterly defeated. 'That blasted hotel must be somewhere. But where exactly?'
Both men felt beaten, their spirits low. Miss Madam had let them down big time. So they were determined to find somewhere to park briefly, even if they had to double park.
Harry turned off the sat/nav and headed in a different direction altogether, arriving on the outskirts of town. There they gratefully spotted some sort of carpark, which happened to be for students.
'That'll have to do,' he cried, stating the obvious.
Tony agreed, so Harry steered the car in the direction Tony indicated, carefully manoeuvring around closely parked cars, until he heaved a sigh of relief, turning off the engine, and just sat, fuming.
'What do we do now?'
Both men spoke a little French, but decided whether French or not, they had to contact the hotel to ask directions. Tony volunteered as his French was a little better than Harry's; besides, they both had invested in smart phones a short while ago and now was the time to use one to phone the hotel.
A call was put through easily enough, the receptionist speaking reasonable English, instructing Tony as to the correct directions.
After a quick breath of fresh air, they set off again with fresh enthusiasm, until the same thing happened. They ended up going round in circles for another thirty minutes, until they stopped a second time in the same student carpark.
'This has to stop. We can't do this all afternoon,' Harry moaned, tired and fed up. 'I suggest we contact the hotel again, cancel the booking if we're able and bugger off. What say you dear boy?'
"I'm with you there old friend! An excellent idea! We'll have to abandon this narrow old place and seek pastures new.'
After yet another call to the same receptionist, they were let off the hook with their booking, having explained their predicament with charm to the young lady. She must have heard this all before; feeling sorry for them, informing they need not pay for such a last minute cancellation. It was obvious to both men, this had happened before.
They heaved a sigh of relief and Harry swung the car in a south easterly direction, heading toward the coast of the Mediterranean. They weren't too enamoured with Miss Madam at the moment, deciding to temporarily sack her. She didn't like it one bit and said so.
'You may be sorry for this!' she intonated, a little threateningly.
'Who cares!' answered Harry.
Immediately hearts lightened, as both men turned to each other and grinned.
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