Seriously, this was a rough voyage. Force 5s blowing, Tango the boat rocked and rolled all the way across the Channel. At one point we were doing 21 knots but travelling backwards.
We arrived in France somewhat green, Dad exhausted from manning the helm, but we were safe on French soil, where we found our hire car waiting. The journey commenced, and we drove about 3 hours east to Deaville, Normandy, and found ourselves in a funny little Chambres D’Hote (B&B) where cows were being milked to music and wifi was nowhere to be found. Breakfast was warm, fresh milk and homemade butter, with soft, warm ‘pain’ and homemade jams….plus a bowlful of strong, hot coffee to set us up for the day’s shooting…details of which I shall save for another post.