But you are in France, Madame !: fear and a return to France

July 14.

Today is a special day. France's national day? Yes.

Publication day for my latest book? Also yes.

I had actually intended to have book three in my series celebrating my French-Australian life out to you a couple of weeks ago, but ... life ... including a little run in with the police and a very expensive breakdown.

The flashing lights and siren were clearly meant for my husband, Alex, as his was the only car on the road way out west in our very large state. Ah, I do a lot of kilometres each week for work, it was inevitable that at some point an incident would befall me, he surmised, as he put on his indicator and pulled off the road, remaining in the car as the policeman did the same before sauntering over to do a slow round of inspection.

"Your lights, sir."

Alex complied. All were working.

"Your indicators, sir."

Again, he complied with no issue.

"Do you know why I've pulled you over?"

"No," he answered politely.

"Could you please get out of the car and follow me."

Alex did as he was told, stopping at the back of the car alongside the policeman and waiting.

"Your number plates, sir, are dirty."

"Oh, I do a lot of kilometres on the dusty, open road, but I do have some water. I'll wipe them down."

"That will not be sufficient. I'd like you to head to the nearest town and replace them, plus I will need to issue you with a fine."

If the nearly five-hundred-dollar fine were not enough, they also came with three demerit points. Tough to swallow when a quick check revealed that driving whilst using the telephone - a whole lot more dangerous, I would have thought - was considered a less severe offence with a commensurately smaller fine.

A scant few days later, after an early start and a six-hundred-kilometre day-with very clean number plates-Alex lost power to the car just after nightfall, still 120 km from home. His luck was in, though, as he could capture a weak telephone signal and had just enough battery power to make a few phone calls. I was the first.

"I'll come and get you," I said, "and we can leave your car until it is daylight."

"No. It'll be stripped bare by then. I'll see if I can get a tow truck."

The first three companies that he tried were not keen and declined Alex's request for help. The fourth agreed.

Five hours later than expected, and another five-hundred dollars out of pocket, he arrived home.

The morals of the stories?

You've understood the first already - go out now and check your number plates. The second? Always carry a spare tin of sardines. It will come in handy when you are cold and hungry waiting roadside in the dark - although a blanket, torch and water would have been useful too.