In a few weeks time, we shall grab our passports, jump on a plane and travel to a veritable Utopia for my husband and children.
And for me, it is the closest to hell I can get.
It is Euro Disney, just outside Paris.
I shall probably have to be handcuffed to some very heavy baggage to stop me running away, and they’ll need to keep the parachutes the other end of the plane from my seat, because I have been there before, and it chilled me to the core.
We stayed in a hotel on the resort, which seemed to be decked out in pinky faded plastic colours. There was never any litter anywhere. I could not buy proper food. Not an apple in sight. It was all hot dogs and burger bars and lashings of black fizzy coke.
And worst of all, there was the music.
They played it constantly. I thought, surely if people turn lights in hospital off at night, these good folks will have the decency to turn off the muzac which trickles tinnily from the loud-hailers outside the window.
But no. All night it went on, and all day, and all the following night ad infinitum.
Some clauses of the Declaration of Human Rights might brand that torture.
And so, I believe, would the motley bunch of former spies who landed up in the fictional Village, of the 1960s TV programme, The Prisoner.
The Village has constant music playing in the background, interrupted here and there with a public announcement. It has its own radio station which cannot be turned off. Silence is a distant dream.
Something happens when anyone tries to escape.
Rover is a huge white sphere. It can chase a prisoner, disable and kill them if necessary. Like a scene from a nightmare, Rover looks innocuous, comical and incapable of catching anyone. But it does, no matter how fast a prisoner runs.
And as I prepare for our trip, I wonder whether Disney has a few Rovers in the wings to keep us all in line, to make sure we talk to Mickey and ride with Peter Pan.
Real life villages do not have Rovers, and generally they are not sinister.
But they can be a little oddball.
The Cornish village where we lived did have its moments. You’d think in such a rural area there would be a network of footpaths to walk out into the surrounding countryside: but landowners had sewn up the land tight and the only way to get out was to drive.
There was a picture postcard pub, and a ford for cars to drive through: a school, a very old church indeed, and some large and spacious Georgian mansions.
We lived in a line of ramshackle 18th century cottages, next to a rather nice beekeeper whose bees would regularly lead him a merry dance. Up the lane he would leap, dressed in one of those white beekeeping outfits with huge ostentatious net-swathed hats.
Next door, on the other side lived a tiny old lady who didn’t talk. She clucked. She had gone to the school as a little girl and now she was in her late eighties. She did not answer the door after dark. We puzzled her: and we were interlopers.
We arrived the year that an important eclipse was due to happen. Cottages were at a premium and we could have rented ours out; but instead we parked our chairs at the bottom of the garden about two hours beforehand and looked out over the valley, and waited.
As did everyone else. I had never seen a soul walking through the valley, but on this day the fields were full of people chattering. We had prayed fervently for a clear sky, but the Cornish peninsula served up cloud.
Everyone waited, and listened to radios, and partied affably. And then gradually, it did begin to get very dark indeed, at about 11 o clock in the morning.
A few hopeful souls cheered. It was like Bilbo’s birthday party. We watched, swigging bottles of beer.
And then, we had arrived at the three minutes of eclipse. Three minutes in history, destined to be memorable in all our pasts.
And I became aware that there was a man standing at the back gate.
“Do you want some tomatoes?” he enquired.
Tomatoes. During the eclipse.
I looked desperately in the direction of my husband and parents who were having a high old time Enjoying The Moment. If I engaged with Mr. Tomatoes, I would unquestionably lose my three minutes.
But I was a polite, well brought up girl.
I started up the garden towards the gate.
He had surplus tomatoes, he said, to which we were very welcome. He gave me an involved history of my tomatoes and asked after our health. He would not go away, and before I knew it, the eclipse was over and I had not looked at the sky or savoured the darkness once.
I wandered disconsolately back to my family. That was one historical moment scuppered, then.
In conversation I later learnt that he had knocked at the old lady next door’s house too.
But she does not answer the door after dark.
Kate Shrewsday 
LOL, shows how smart she is
the sudden darkness in the daytime is a shock to the soul, even though you are expecting it. we drove all night once to go and experience it. we watched and cheered (a whole crowd of srangers bonded for a while), shared our champagne and snacks, then drove back in an almighty traffic queue.
I like my silence here on the stream. I suspect Disney world anywhere would have me running away after a day or so, even if I could block out most with some soothing classical or guitar music.
That’s a good idea, must take a pod with me. What a shame one can’t play silence….sounds like eclipses are celebrated the same the world over, Sidey š
Some people just have no sense of history. If you are talking about 1999, I have a video of the eclipse you can watch (we have an over-extended sense of history). Dull tv but you won’t find any tomatoes š
The eeriest thing was the silence.
Not silent where I was, regrettably, Tilly. Maybe I should relive the moment I never lived in then first place -good idea š
Will Hubby and the children miss you? No. Take the train down to Paris and enjoy one of the most beautiful sophisticated cities in the world. You could stroll along the elegant boulevards, visit one of the many Art Galleries, enjoy a ‘bateau’ trip along the Seine or sit quietly in Notre Dame Cathedral. Thanks for the eclipse memory. It was so hyped up in the media. We got the glasses, and on the spur of the moment, in the middle of the night, drove down to Devon, but that is another story.
Do you know, that option had never occured to me, Rosemary. I may begin plotting presently….wise words as always š
The Cornish were quite sure they were going to make a lot of money on tourism during the eclipse, but very few people actually came that far. Many a farmer’s field-cum-campsite lay empty that day, I can tell you….
One option is to offer to take your children’s favourite baby sitter with you and let them chaperone the children on the rides!
Is a rover an Orwellian fiction thing?
Never met it in Orwell, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist there, Carl. And their radios have the feeling of telescreens. Rover looks like a big joke, right up until you watch it: then it becomes the sinister stuff of nightmares.
Heed Rosemary’s advice and plan your escape. The very thought of EuroDisney brings me out in a cold sweat. I don’t think you could pay me to go.
Speccy, you speak the truth. I am googling trains into Paris from EuroDisney as we speak š
The first section of this begs the question, why on earth are you going if you hate it so? I wouldn’t go near the place – no way. (Haha – my boys have never been keen to go, so we haven’t been under any pressure.)
The eclipse was peculiar wasn’t it? We climbed a hill in the Lake District, but the cloud dampened down any darkening effect and we were a bit too far north- it just seemed very dusky for a while, but the birds went quiet, which was odd.
First section: the children are at the age where they enjoy it most if we’re all there. The phase won’t last forever, but while it’s here I feel I need to be there for bits of it.
And regarding the eclipse: I bet it was beautiful in the Lake District, I love it there….and the birds seemed to think, as my neighbour did, that it was night time…
You area better person than me. š
There’s still time for a meltdown, Pseu š Disney would make the perfect backdrop…
re: noise, i keep earplugs in my purse, in my computer bag, in my car, random places that i can whip out on cue if noises get to me. i really am the nerd i sound like and have been suspected to b. anyhoo, i’ve even used them at disney. couldn’t agree w u more about it. hugs
Thanks Doc. Earplugs. Another top tip! š
laughing. ok, so here goes the embarrassing self-plug… Sensory Overload http://friendtoyourself.com/2010/08/26/sensory-overload/
i couldn’t stop my fingers because this junk gets me so happy.
hugs to u kate.
Cheers Sana, plugs from yours always welcome. I have been thinking of going back to the beginning of your posts and reading from there. And self soothing is definitely in order here!
May I just say, don’t get foam ones… they don’t cut out the deeper notes. Wax earplugs work best, made the right size for your ears, moulded by warm hands and pushed in firmly… that should do the trick!
Brilliant, thanks. Better google them – I haven’t seen wax ones in the shops.
To miss an event like that because of tomatoes! I feel for you, because I would be that person as well. LOL
I remember the show The Prisoner, in fact, my husband talks frequently of trying to download the series from the internet. Not sure I’m that keen on revisiting it. I do recall that it was hailed as far before its time in content, special effects, etc. There was a rather poor movie made of it a few years ago starring Ewan McGregor (who is one of my favorite actors — when he’s acting).
I understand your aversion to Disneyland — we went there when my son was ten years old — twenty years ago now — but, I have to admit that I did enjoy many of the rides. The food was atrocious and overpriced, but we stayed off-site, so were able to get ‘real’ food for breakfasts and dinners.
Love the variety of interests and conversations on your blog. Will visit again.
Thank you Kathy, lovely to have you visit and leave such a great contribution to the fray here! The Prisoner must have been ground breaking when it was first aired. I can concur with that reluctance to go back to it. It is the very definition of a nightmare in my book.
Staying off site is the best way to handle a Disney visit, I feel sure. I’ve never been a rides kinda gal, although Small World is a must because of the legendary almost-hysteria as one goes round, so I may well take the off-site tip and make my way into the city while Phil and the kids play…
A mix of both perhaps?
A dizzy din-filled day at Disney with the delighted darlings . . .
Followed by a Kate day on the Champs-ElysƩes?
Perfect š
I remember waiting for a solar eclipse (may be the same one as 1999, which a commenter mentioned). I seemed to be the only one in my neighborhood excited about it, except the birds, that is. Just as the sun started to become obscured, the birds started chattering as they do at dusk. A regular tea-party is what they had, going over the day’s gossip and such, and then, still. No birds, no squirrels, just my neighbors who beckoned across “do you know what is happening?”. Duh! No tomatoes, though.
Oh, Kate, perhaps some good books and a earplugs with which to cozy up on a bench. Mickey and Goofy will understand, even if the kids and Phil don’t.
Time to catch up on my reading, Penny! Good idea…sounds like you and I share eclipse-proof neighbours. And you didn’t get any tomatoes as a consolation prize…
I’ve heard that Euro Disney is terrible and a waste of time and money. Our one experience back in 1978 (when Epcot was only a dream, and our first child, Josh was 8 month old), was when we went to Disney World in Orlando, Florida. It turned out to be a wonderful trip – one day – we stayed with relatives – but not only did Hubs and I enjoy it, little Josh did too! He charmed everyone who saw him while we would stand in line, and I have a wonderful memory of a huge and very tall, very kind black man who took Josh up onto his shoulders, and Josh just loved being up so high, he laughed in delight.
Since I was breat feeding Josh, near the entrance to the park, a very convenient location, Gerber baby foods had a pavillion set up for Moms of young children and infants. There was a special room for nursing mothers with comfortable rocking chairs, low lights, and very soft music playing. It was such a wonderful place to rest with Josh! They also had a changing room set up very sanitarily for diaper changes and such. All-in-all it was a fantastic experience.
Wish you could enjoy it. Maybe it will be better this time around?.
Maybe, Paula. Nice to hear a positive take on Disney š There s one creature I shall be looking forward to seeing: the dragon who lives at the bottom of the castle. I loved him the first time round. Maybe I’ll take a book and commune with him…
Excellent punch line. Shall we assume, though, that she missed it too for her fear of the dark?
As for Disney, oy! I question whether it is some type of subliminal business with words woven in some scary pattern that keeps bickering at bay. Or, is it like a store, luring you to buy something.. It sounds terribly plastic. Do the workers look normal? If not, keep exposure to a minimum, it may indeed be brain altering, ha!
Conspiracy theories abound about Disney, don’t they, Angela?
The workers in Euro Disney are quite funny because they are French and thus unable, quite, to duplicate the sunshine smiliness of he American resorts š When Phil first went a ride broke down, and he was led out backstage past many dour chain smoking workers for the Disney corporation..
Oh Kate! How I wish you were closer. First off, I went to disneyland as a child. All three of my children have been there and two of them have been there more than once and I have never ever been with them. Long lines, crowds, heat, hotdogs?? I keep saying that one year I will muster the courage. As for your eclipse, you certainly haven’t forgotten it so tomatoes may be perfectly apt for memory keeping. Good on the ole guy!
š I should have known you’d be on his side, Tammy! LOL! They were delicious tomatoes, I suppose…hot dogs….*shudder*…
I agree about Euro Disney. I took the kids many years ago. Once. Living hell. Keep remembering the tomatoes. You certainly won’t find any fruit or veg there. Good luck.
Thanks Earlybird š I feel I might need it.
We were down in the South West for that eclipse too – at my parents’ house in South Devon.
I remember when it went dark, all the birds fell silent, but the hounds in the hunt kennel down in the valley all started howling – very eerie…
I wonder what they could feel that we couldn’t, Jan. How strange….
Couldn’t think of too much worse on the travel front, Kate, other than Las Vegas! However, it has been many a child’s delight, so good on you for being a sport (but I would definitely take along that iPod š )
I will, BB, I will….I am now armed with some top tips from everyone here…and I’ll take my camera to record the horror frame by frame.
Great sense of humor !! And I wish you good luck for your trip at Euro DisneyLand !!
I went there twice and this is true the music is AAAAAAaaaaaarghhhh !! Let me get out of here !!!!!!!
But unfortunately, no giant white ball tries to catch you when you try to escape like in the Village (that would have been funny at least). In my case it was only my girlfriend š (yes, you can find people who like this place … )
Have fun !
Thanks Matthias š Your photographs are amazing. Each one the beginning of a story…but I wasn’t sure I could say that properly in French…
Thanks a lot Kate but don’t worry, you can also write in English on my blog ! At the beginning I planned to write in both languages (because I have good friends in the US and in Germany where I spent few years of my life) but I think I became … lazy … I have to change this !! Have a great day !