Je vous ai dit l'un de ma femme, trois chattes, deux poissons et une camionnette? (part quatre– France)

My philosophy is if you ignore a problem, it may just go away.

Or at the very least, like an unwelcome and disregarded visitor knocking in vain at your door, it might decide it would be better off somewhere else for a while, and bugger off to the pub for a beer, coming back later, when it may be a little more convenient.

This philosophy appeared to pay off when dealing with the Transit. By boycotting any discussion about, or reference to, the tortured noise which had alarmed us in Paris, it did appear to go away. Although I had a sneaky suspicion it was probably down a real dive of a boozer, sulking over its pint, watching some low life playing the fruit machine, planning what it would do next to get our attention.

Meanwhile we continued on the journey. The cats appeared to have come to terms with the whole experience, and appeared less traumatised than we were. I tried not to think about the fish.

Then, around 40 minutes after leaving the péage, we began to climb towards our destination. At this point the unwelcome guest decided to pop back and drunkenly hammer repeatedly on the door in a desperate attempt to let us know it wanted to be noticed.

So we crawled up the hill towards the town, barely managing 30 miles an hour with the smell of burning engine and a sound which would put a rabid jet engine to shame.

Somehow, we made it. We limped into our parking space right outside our front door, turned off the engine and welcomed the cats into their new home.

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