Imagine being locked in a McDonald's over night with about two hundred kids and you get the idea of what it's like to travel Ireland to France on Brittany Ferries. Understandably, when the majority of the people you have to deal with are waist high and don't have their new front teeth yet, the French staff are as friendly as a box of razors. Getting your small change wrong is about one step away from saying they were the product of a relationship between a sheep and a hen. At night DJ Jaime spins hits for the kids while their parents drink heavily. A tune called P.I.A.N.O. where the kids mime different instruments brings the roof down. And the parents must love it too as suddenly there's a rush on the bar. The cinema on board costs €7. No Country For Old Men is showing in room no.1. Apart from at the helm, it's the only kiddy free area on board, but it's easier to sneak in free to What Happens in Vegas, so that's how we kill time till France. At seven the next morning we hit it; at five we're woken up. The French demand respect. They demand you queue an hour in the hall before escaping downstairs to your car. Ours is the only car without backseat TV screens. We have no children's bikes attached to the roof either. We get looks. Maybe they think we've eaten our sprogs.
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