The shrinking world by wheels

Our very good friend Steve Forrest, a published author, raconteur and generally all round good guy likes to keep us amused with witty ditties of which he is a master. To celebrate our return to the UK he gifted the following.

Enjoy and smile along with us - we need it at the moment!

Parked up and no where to go!

Cast your mind back a week or so

Location:  Benidorm

Sun sand sea and sangria

Were pretty much the norm

Sunny skies and temperatures

Of 24 degrees or so

Midday on a sandy beach 

With nowhere else to go

John, on the left wearing beanie hat

Enjoying a tapas sarnie

Raffik, on the right in designer shades

Every inch L'Homme Armani

Relaxing on sun loungers

Sipping a bottle of San Miguel

When suddenly it all goes dark

And Raff shouts, "What the hell?"

Standing right in front of them

And blocking out their sun

Stood a soldier in a surgical mask

And a rather hefty gun

"que pasa eh Mes Hombres?"

Was the greeting so informal

But our duo were not pacified

Soldiers on the beach were hardly normal

The soldier used his gun to point

At John's espadrilles and argyle socks

Held up with sock suspenders

To protect his pasty hocks

"Eengleesh touristas eh my friend?"

Somehow this soldier knew

That these two might not be locals

And the tension slowly grew

Nervously John licked his lips

He'd been practising the Spanish  lingo

But the soldier spoke before he could

"Eets time to go home Gringo"   

The soldier flicked off the safety catch

And by waving the barrel somehow

Managed to bypass the language barrier

To show that he meant Now!

There was no time to organise

Or get their sat nav thing in order

As John drove like a man possessed

Heading vaguely for the border.

John sat on the accelerator

Audrey sat on Raffik's lap

As the Jaffa swung wildly behind them

Through ever tighter gaps

French immigration was severe

They said "Non!" to French rue travel

But when John showed their tickets for Eurostar

French resistance did unravel

They were checked for imported viruses

And when they proved they had no bug

French border patrol finally waved them through

With a disinterested gallic shrug

John pushed himself and the motor home

Barely pausing for a bit

As the only thing welcome less than Corona virus 

Was apparently an article fifty waving Brit

After many miles of empty rues

They finally reached the tunnel

And squeezed the van aboard Le Shuttle

Like ripe brie through a funnel

It had all been a dramatic dash

A European pandemic flee

But they were safely under the channel now

And they'd be home in time for tea

There hadn't been any time to think

No time to change their clothes

But a UK spring warmth of 9 degrees

Reminded John to, maybe cover up his speedos?

I'd love to tell you readers

That all the bad stuff was left behind

But you know life's not like that

And you knew just what they would find

Raff had used his thinking head

And pre-booked with a contented sigh

Their favourite country campsite

At Battle, quite near Rye

In this fast evolving landscape

Covid 19 moves quickly but

Not as fast as government directives

And the campsite now was, shut

They were home and that felt pretty good

Until they found supermarket shelves were bare

And that groups of people strolled around

As if they didn't care

It was like being in a horror film

With one more  terror to surprise

As they pulled up outside their nearest Greggs

It closed before their eyes.

Steve Forrest

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