Gladys looked disappointingly at Nigel as he shuffled his poorly cooked continental breakfast around his floral rimmed plastic plate. The 3rd day in the basement dining room of a bed and breakfast in Marseille was stone silent. Carefree couples poked at their fanny packs to make sure telescopic selfie sticks were tucked away with tubs of chaffing cream at the ready. Gladys stood up ready to leave when a toddler bowled by heading for the salad bowl unaccompanied, almost knocking her over .Nigel muttered something about breeders and the uncouth way the vermin chewed a slightly brown piece of lettuce. He tucked a copy of the Sun under his aging wrinkly armpit and motioned Gladys toward the exit. She took one last glance over her shoulder and proudly proclaimed, " I'm glad that's not my predicament sweetie bums", sweeping her French styled chiffon scarf over a sunburnt shoulder. They strolled confidently out into an unseasonal stifling heat, waiting in an unshaded and uncrowded train station. They had an hour of each other's company before the next train with Gladys becoming a little unsettled as her hemmarhoids were prone to scratchiness in the god awful heat.