The Bear is definitely back to normal after the holiday.

This morning I decided to make a start on the cleaning while he was still in bed, as he rarely gets up before 10.30, but at 9 o'clock he appeared at my elbow wearing a collar and tie and expecting to go out. Yikes, I wasn't prepared for that and said so.

'You've got an hour then', he said, but my unspoken reply was something like 'You'll be lucky' only less polite, and I carried on mopping the floor. Whale was ensconced in the loo after a Normacol so I would have to do a thorough clean in the toilet, after taking advantage of his absence to do his bedroom.

At a quarter to ten Bear was pacing up and down but I had nearly finished. By five to ten I was in the shower but as I emerged from the bathroom, wrapped in a towel, I came face to face with Bear, wearing his coat and an impatient expression.

We left the house at ten past but it was only when I stepped out of the car in town that I realised I was still wearing my indoor sandals. Never mind, it wasn't raining. We went for a coffee during which he moaned about everyone and everything and then we went to collect my new glasses.

At last, the final prescription after the cataract operations and I'm trying varifocals for everyday use, plus some tinted, distance only glasses for driving - when I pluck up the courage to try again.

The optician knows us well and explained in apparent seriousness that while I get used to wearing varifocal s I must take it easy. Therefore my husband must do the cooking and cleaning and bring me breakfast in bed. Also, a weekly bouquet of flowers was on the prescription.

The Bear's horrified expression was proof he had understood.

P and N are justly proud of their house which they bought about a year ago.

We were amazed when they turned off the main road and went up a very steep track which eventually became a pebbly path, barely wide enough for one car, let alone two. There was evidence of new houses being built on the way up but near the top we stopped at some very attractive blue, metal gates set in a stone wall, and N got out to unlock them.

We drove up the steep path and parked near the house - or rather -  bungalow, with a large terrace and lots of French windows. The three dogs were waiting with a noisy greeting and then we were introduced to N's mum, a sweet old lady of 88 who lives with them.

Once inside we were able to appreciate the layout; a large living room with an open fire, a small but very well organised kitchen and a narrow hallway leading to two bedrooms, a toilet and a bathroom. At the end of this corridor was the study and beyond that a later extension containing a large dining room, summer kitchen, two more bedrooms and a shower room. 

All around the house we were treated to  magnificent views of the cliffs, mountains and trees. Their land extended to the top of the mountain but we were not in a fit state to undertake the climb. We saw a photo of the view instead.

The only 'less pleasant' surprise was the Mistral. I had read about it but never realised it could be so cold or so strong. P and N took it all in their stride and explained that it blew the pollution away, sent the rainclouds towards the Mediterranean and promised several days of warm sunshine when it died down.

Unfortunately for us, it chose to blow pretty hard until the Monday morning when we left.

On Thursday morning, a few minutes before six, Jay dropped  the Bear and me at the station. An SNCF lady held the door open and enquired whether we were getting the Paris train. 'It's already waiting on platform one,' she said.

The French make a great song and dance about 'composting' your ticket before setting foot on the platform so I dutifully put ours in the machine and then wondered if I'd done it the right end. Just to be on the safe side I turned it round and did it again.

We climbed into the carriage and found our seats in plenty of time before the departure at 6.17 precisely. I must admit to dozing off for quite alot of the journey but the scenery south of Reims was much more interesting than the rather flat countryside between Charleville and Rethel so I started to take notice.

I had never tried a French train toilet before so my first visit came as a bit of a shock. It must have been an older carriage because it's the only one I came across during these few days holiday that consisted of a tube leading directly onto the track. And, boy, was it draughty.

Once at Paris we had two hours to find our way from the Gare de l'Est to the Gare de Lyon, but with a heavy case to carry we opted for a taxi. The driver was more than happy to join in the general melée on the roads and when an ambulance driver hooted him angrily and then drew up alongside at the lights for a bit of verbal abuse he wound down his window and let rip with some choice phrases of his own.

'It's all very well for him', he complained as we drove away, 'It's not his vehicle; he can have an accident and go and get another one.'

All the same, we arrived in one piece at the Gare du Lyon, paid him his fare - a very reasonable 10 euros - and set off to find the TGV. The departures board had yellow or blue rectangles against each destination and there was a notice saying that blue ones meant platforms A to N and yellow ones meant platforms 5 to 23. The lettered platforms were right in front of us but the numbered ones were nowhere to be seen.

'I think we should find out where the other platforms are first', I suggested, but the Bear had seen a vacant seat and went over to claim it. 'We've got loads of time. They must be over there,' he said, waving vaguely to his right.

As time went by I decided to go and have a look, so I left him with the luggage and wandered off. At the end of the lettered platforms there was nothing but the exit but as I turned back I saw a small sign saying 'voies 5-23' with an arrow apparently pointing downwards. There were stairs and escalators but no numbers at the bottom.

I went back to the Bear. 'I think we may have to go down over there, but I suggest we go sooner rather than later in case I'm wrong'. He accused me of being a pain for worrying but eventually he conceded and we went down the escalator.

It certainly didn't look right. The only 'official' looking person was a cleaner so I asked him where the numbered platforms were. 'They're in the other station' he informed us. He led us back up the escalator and pointed to the other end of the station where we had been sitting. Just beyond that, in small writing we found directions to the other platforms - through an archway, turn right and then a long walk but, at least, we found our train. 

Our carriage was right at the front of a double train so it was a bit of a trek. We finally reached number 13 and I literally fell in and landed in a heap on the floor because I didn't see the steps inside the carriage. Our seats were upstairs and conveniently close to both the loo and the buffet car. The TGV's toilet was more upmarket than the regional train's but much smaller than those on a British train. However, it was clean and odourfree and had various buttons and levers to flush it, turn on the tap, or dry your hands.

The refreshments were not too overpriced so we opted for sandwiches, fruit salad and yoghurt, beer and water for under 20 euros, and settled down to watch the scenery unfold. It amazed me that once out of Paris there were no more main towns until Lyon. As we sped southwards the landscape changed from flat, open fields to rolling hills and then  mountains came into view in the distance. You didn't really appreciate how fast you were travelling until the track was alongside a motorway and the cars were left standing.

We arrived at Montelimar exactly on time and our friends P and N were there on the platform to greet us. Our short holiday had really begun.

All being well we should be on the train for Paris at 6.17 tomorrow and then all change for the TVG to Montelimar, leaving CC and Jay in charge of the house, the cats and the Whale, when he comes out of hospital.

Now that we have all recovered from  tummy bugs I have to admit that it is quite restful not to have to worry about looking after an invalid. It's not that the Whale is a huge problem but you do have to consider  his needs all day long and he can be incredibly irritating at times - without even realising it! It's been good not having to direct the traffic to the loo every morning. The Whale stays on average forty minutes in there and you can be sure the Bear needs to go during that time. Also, the twice daily chore of emptying 'wee' bags is something we haven't missed.

By the time we get back on Monday I've a feeling CC and Jay will be ready for a holiday themselves.

The Whale is quite happily installed in the 'short stay' unit of the hospital and enjoying the fuss and attention from all the doctors and nurses. He even says the food is much better than last time.

This morning he phoned to say they were arranging physiotherapy for him and the 'scintigraphy' wouldn't be done before Wednesday! He is off the drip so able to go for little 'walks' and they are trying different painkillers. So far he has the double room to himself but has to share the toilet facilities with the room next door. Provided he doesn't annoy them by pressing the bell too often his stay should remain pleasant.

We ought to be taking advantage of our 'freedom' but we are all recovering from the 'lergy', a tummy bug that hit each of us in turn with a brief but nasty spell of S and D followed by a period of lethargy and general 'yukness'.

Things are getting back to normal but no-one is in the mood to arrange exciting days out. Never mind, our visit to friends in the south is booked for Thursday. Our first 'holiday' for a couple of years.

In the heat of the moment I wasn't sure whether to dial 15 or 18. CC called urgently because the Whale had passed out. She was slapping his face and calling to him as the man answered the phone.

'I need an ambulance. Is this the right number please?'

He asked for the address then said 'I'll put you through to 15.'

The doctor realised I was English and decided to practise his. 'If you speak slowly I'll understand', he said. He made sure that Whale was now coming round and responding but said an ambulance was on its way.

Sure enough, in a matter of minutes two paramedics were at the door. After initial checks they decided to take him in and I was allowed to go too. They sat me in the passenger seat so that the medic could stay in the back to look after his patient.

Wow, I wouldn't have thought it was an emergency but the blue lights were flashing and they took advantage of the siren to jump red lights and overtake the queues of traffic. The 'quick' way to the hospital was impassable because of flooding so we went through the town. It was interesting to see that heavy goods vehicle drivers were much more likely to pull over or drive in a co-operative manner, whereas lots of motorists seemed oblivious to the warnings, and one even pulled out right into our path.

Nevertheless we got there safely. A nurse took charge of the Whale and I went off to 'reception' with the ambulance man to produce the Carte Vitale and check him in.

I'm quite used to the system by now and settled down in the waiting room for over an hour before they called me through to see him. He had an antibiotic drip in his arm and had already had blood and urine tests and an X-ray. They were waiting for the results before deciding whether or not to admit him.

The 45 minutes suggested by the doctor turned into an hour and a half but eventually he came back with the news that it was quite a serious urine infection that needed treatment by a drip so they would keep him in for a couple of days.

They would also take advantage of him being there to check on his painkilling medication and see if they could come up with something more effective.

It wasn't long before they took him up to the ward and I was given the necessary piece of paper to go and prepay a phoneline for him. CC and Jay brought in all the equipment he needs - wheelchair, walking frame, toiletries, book and glasses - and then, once he seemed settled we all went home.

It was nearly four o'clock when we got back after a very ordinary, run of the mill ride. Quite tame compared to the trip to hospital.