Sunday turned out to be an extremely busy day. I overslept something shameful, having forgotten my alarm clock at home and taken some cold medication which contained a sleeping powder. Having performed my ablutions breakfast seemed most pressing, so naturally my legs propelled me direction Les Galapagos.
Unfortunately they don’t do breakfast, just coffee. So the ritual is as follows. First stop is the newsagent which is just to the right of the Galapagos and usually has some sort of English newspaper, which I buy. Second stop is the Bakery which is to the left of the Galapagos, where I purchase a croissant. Only then do I make my entrance at the Galapagos, accompanied by multiple Bonjours. I order a Grand Café Crème and settle down to breakfast.
After that I conduct some shopping, an apron and basic foodstuffs. Then I retrieve the bag my hotel has stored for me since my last holiday and unpack hairdryer, tea utensils, and, most importantly, the radio. This latter is always a problem, it is one of those complicated digital affairs and takes ages to get working. The French instructions don’t help, but even after I finally turn them around and discover the English version I am none the wiser. Finally I figure out how to set the hours, the radio station (France
Then I go to the lobby to check my e-mails and receive a severe shock. I had assumed I could trickle into my doctor’s office Monday morning when he had finished his work at the Grands Thermes, and then meander over to the Thermes and arrange the schedule for my Cure and pay. By then it would be and the Thermes would close. Starting the Cure Tuesday seemed a good plan to me.
My doctor has other ideas. He has sent me an e-mail, giving me the choice of either seeing him Sunday evening or Monday at hours. ! I am supposed to be on holiday! There is nothing for it, I have to see my workaholic doctor Sunday evening. Yet worse, the Grands Thermes is also open Sunday evening!
My doctor has managed to adjust to my unique French during previous visits and we get on well. At the Grands Thermes it is a little more tricky, but finally the Thermes receptionist gets into the spirit of my daring re-interpretations of her language and hands me the Cure-schedule for the next 17 days. Even the sight of my credit card, which had caused considerable consternation in previous years, fails to dim her enthusiastic acceptance of my status as Curiste (I hope I spelled that right!).
Nevertheless the whole experience has been quite exhausting (for all sides, I suspect), but I rally my resources and stagger with my last vestiges of strength into the Galapagos (where else?), where I recover with the aid of their excellent duck in blueberry sauce and fried apples. A fitting end to my first day in La Bourboule!
