AHH! THE ROMANCE: ( Dunkerque to Paris)

I reckon most romantic things in life aren't that practical, but all the trade-off's are somehow worth the extra hassle (that's what I tell the young wife anyhoo - my main selling point!). Our old car looks sweet, but quirks are showing up pretty much on a daily basis (the metaphor remains). Yesterday the horn decided not to work (no metaphor intended), today it's working again. Barely 10 mins onto the European continent, pumped up with the excitement of starting our trip, so long in the planning, and ferocious noises begin to come from the engine (I'll concede some similarity). We accepted the kindness of a French local who led us to a garage where we slept in the car on the forecourt for the night waiting for it to open, not driving to a guest house for fear that the car would blow up! All ended well as it was merely the ventilation. However, the foretaste of things to come, and the 'triumphal entry' into Paris, to the accompaniment of a loud farting noise coming from the car cabin, hardly conjured up the anticipated romance an old sports car in gay Paris was meant to. We are left with a sense of foreboding.