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Here is a story of  a man who had an terrible holiday: The first thing
that went wrong was that the country we were going to decided to have a
war a few days before we were going there. So that was the end of that.
But the plane we were going on was stopping off at Rome. So rather than
not having a holiday at all, we thought we'd go to Italy. Very nice. See
the sights. Go to the beaches and get fat with pasta. We were at the
airport waiting for the plane and a friend of mine who lived near the
airport had come to see us off. So we were having a few drinks in the
bar and joking with this friend of mine, Peter, saying 'Poor old you in
cold rainy England. This time tomorrow we'll be in Italy on the beach.'
And I went down to see if the flight had been called and discovered it
had gone. It was a terribly stupid mistake. We hadn't checked the time
of departure. I was sure it was going 9 something but it was going at 19
something which of course is 7 o'clock. So we were actually there in the
bar when it went without us.  We were determined to have our holiday.
The irony was that Peter was now going back to his comfortable home and
we were stuck in the cold and the rain at 10 o'clock at night. You see,
it was a charter flight so we couldn't book another one. We lost our
money and all the other flights were booked up. Well, we got a train to
the South Coast and caught the midnight boat across the Channel, froze
to death all night, it was a terrible crossing with people being sick
everywhere. And eventually we got to I think it was Dieppe and then a
train to Paris. We got to Paris very early in the morning and I thought
we'd be all right. You see, we now had to hitch hike because a lot of
our money had gone on the boat and the train, but I thought 'Well, it's
very early in the morning, we'll get a good place to start hitching and
we'll soon be well on our way.' We got to the start of the motorway and
I just couldn't believe it. I've never seen so many people trying to
hitch a lift in all my life.  Well, it was then it suddenly dawned on
me. It was August the first wasn't it? and on August the first in France
the whole population goes on holiday and there were hundreds of people,
stopping the traffic, banging on drivers' windows trying to persuade
them to stop and give them a lift. It was chaos, disastrous.  Well, we
got moving eventually. A lorry driver gave us a lift. And then things
started to get better, as we got further south and it got warmer, you
know, and we thought 'At last, the holiday's beginning.' Well, we camped
that night and we then set off again the next day. We got some lifts,
and met a great chap who owned a vineyard. He took us back to his farm
and we tasted all this wine -Burgundy, my favorite - and we had a great
time. Now the holiday really was starting. Well, he took us back to the
motorway, and there we were by the side of the road, the sun was
shining, we were a bit merry, sang a few songs - you know, life was
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