A four hour motorbike ride down through the west country in freezing wet weather with no pee stops apart from a forced fuel injection where only the motorbike gets relief - yikes. What it does mean though, is that Mr P manages to drive us onto the Pont Aven Ferry where we're the last motorbike to board, and THERE ARE LOADS OF MOTORBIKES.
The Plymouth Santander crossing is supposed to be a cruise but we hit the Bay of Biscay with full fury sick bags, and crashing plates are the order of the day.
Brittany Ferry's 2-berth inner cabins have no natural light, so although they're not really a bedroom by estate agent standards, they're really OK to apply make up in and to dress in...to sleep in too if YOU'RE FINE with being rocked by big waves and ruckus in the corridors at 04.00 am!
But, as Mr P politely put it, we're not travelling Commodore class!