So after 50 years supporting Charlton and several years of reading CL I have finally decided to take the plunge and put up a post in an attempt to cheer every one up. Yes I was there last night and it was bad and yes I will be in Burnley on Saturday and I expect in will be worse.
So here is a little morality tale that I hope might make you smile and I can assure you, is 100% true, not based on facts but totally true. Please excuse spelling, I can't.
About 10 years ago I took the family sking to a place in the French Alps called Chatel. Lovley place with 3 seperate ski areas. We had driven there and were staying in a rented appartment. On about day 4 we decided to ski in the area close to village. Parking is a bit of a nightmare but fortunatley there is a multi storey car park that you can get into from the village centre. It is built on the side of the mountain so you go in then down and down about 12 levels and exit into the valley below the village. We parked here about 3 levels down and went sking for the afternoon.
We, wifey, 2 kids, then about 12 and 9 and me had finished skiing and went back to the car. It is fair to say we were very tired and wanted to get back to the appartment as soon as possible. Most every one else had also departed so the car park was only about a quater full at this point. We loaded the car with the ski gear got in and I pulled out and turned the first corner to go down to the exit. However there, parked in the middle of running lane, was a car with its hazard warning lighs flashing away. Becuse of the many concrete support columns in the car park it was impossible to get round him so we were forced to wait. After a few swconds I saw a taxi sign on it and guessed he was dropping someone off. After another minute or two I began to wonder why the taxi driver didnt think to park in one of the many free spaces that were by this time available, I then clocked the number plate and saw the small blue capital 'B' next to the number. Realisation began to dawn on me as I also saw an address in Bruges written on the back , a Belgium taxi driver, perhaps not the sharpest knife in the drawer.
After another minute or so a guy gets out of the passenger side and opens the rear passengr door and slowly takes out a snow board and a couple of big holdalls stuffed to the gunnels. So, I think, you have just paid a taxi driver to drive you from Bruges to Chatel, I'm not sure but I think it must be about 300 miles. Anyway by now I am getting a bit wound up having sat patiently for a good 5 minutes and I start to suggest he moves on in my best schoolboy French.
Finally after another minute or two the taxi moves off, hurray we shout in unison, but alas our joy was short lived. He drives 10 metres and decides he is going to park in one of the prpoper parking spaces that have been available for the last 10 minutes. Now please picture the scene, 3 empty parking spaces to the left of us, 4 empty spaces to the right and one cosy space right between 2 massive concrete support columns. Where you gonna park Hercule Poirot?
You guessed it, the very difficult to access space between the 2 concrete columns. Not only this but Monsieur P decides to drive in forwards, which I think is more difficult than reversing in. After about 7 attempts going back and forth, with me a this point about to spontaneously combust, he finally gets in the space. Thank God we all shout as I offer him a shouted pearl of wisdom for blocking the car park for a good 10 minutes and I start to drive forward.
I beleive to this day that having heard my verbal offering Monsiur P decided to have some fun and try and cause more frustration to a family of tired hungry and thirsty Brits. He slams the car into reverse in order to better postion himself in the tiny space, and in the process cause me more grief.
At this point I need to say that the taxi was one of those Renaut Tango/ Twingo vehicles, half car half van , where the rear passenger doors slide backwards and sit on the outside of he vehcile when open. I also need to say the the passenger, who had by this time probably finished his first snow board run, had forgotten to close the door he had used to get his gear out.
So I am forced to slam on the brakes again as matey starts to reverse, and yes you've guessed it.
BANG CRASH SCRAPE GRIND SMASH CRASH and WALLOP, he reversed back and the open passenger door has hit the concrete column. Only one winner here and its not the Tango. Passnger door is complety ripped off and crashes to the ground , glass smashes on the ground , back panel of the car bent open. Monsieur P stops instantly. We are but 5 metres from his car and for a few seconds there is silence.
Then all four of us burst out laughing , crying almost. Fortunately there is justt enough space for me to drive around the stricken Tango and down, down to the exit. Once we felt we were safe and the twat head wasn't going to chase us I had to stop to wipe away the tears as I thought about a 300 mile trip back to Belguim in the middle of winter with no back door on the car, and a massive reapir bill, oh how we all luaghed.
My youngest then asked me ' why did he do that Dad?' to which I could only reply, 'Becuse he is from Belgium'.
So you are now thinking , if you have stayed with me on this, what is the moral of this tale.
Well I would say that when dealing with Belguims patience is a virtue and in the end you WILL have the last laugh.as they get thier come uppance
Keep the faith my friends, Charlton has been around for 110 years, we WILL have the last laugh.
Merry Christmas and hope to see a few of you there on Saturday
Micky
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Comments
Great story.