Toll roads

We don't have many toll roads in the UK - a few bridges, if I remember.

I'd driven in France before, but I'd never used a toll road, preferring the quieter smaller roads. This time round, I'd used a toll road on the first day - yeah, dead easy with a LH drive car, ghastly with a RH drive car. Well, dead easy, unless you misjudge which kiosk to aim for. Guess who picked one for lorries. Guess who had to get out and jump up and down by the paystation, waving this useless ticket, guess who couldn't reach the poketheticketinhere bit, guess who had a lorry driving right up her chuff, while watching the dopey foreigner ... eventually, he backed away in horror, I backed out and into the next one (hooray for empty French roads and kiosks), and all was hunky dorey.

So returning to Lyon, I braved the peripherique (free, I'd been told. Tolled in fact.), avoided accidentally swerving into an irate speedy driver, and found myself back at the airport. I filled up with petrol, as instructed, and chucked my rubbish into one of the garage bins. Back to the carhire place - car dusty, but unscratched! Smugly, I sat at the bus stop outside for the airport bus, and went to check my phone.

No phone. I checked in the car park round the hire car. No phone. Oh clunk! It's that effing bad penny dropping with a thud yet again. I borrowed the car, drove round to the petrol station, rummaged in their bin, under the eyes of a couple of gendarmes, found the phone amidst my rubbish - of course ... and returned the car.

It reminded me of how I left my case behind in a London restaurant, on the way to Morocco. Sometimes I think my belongings are trying to make their escape....