8th July 2012
Sometimes bizarre things happen. Saturday Toulouse was really jumpin'. Like most of France, shops were busy with their annual sales - held nationally from 27 June 'til the end of July. Buoyed up, after saving 23 euros, we headed for the metro at Capitole. Now a dab hand at the ticket machine manoevres, we waltzed through the turnstiles and marvelled again at the wonderful synchronised doors that save so many lives at the platform. We whizzed through the now familiar stations to the terminus at Balma Gramont. Walking towards the escalators Him indoors searched for our metro tickets. Oh, I blithely told him, we don't need those any more as all outgoing turnstiles open without them. So, he threw them in a waste bin. And there, at the top of the escalator, right in front of the turnstiles was a line of policemen! Identity cards and tickets please, they shouted. I went cold. This had never happened before. One approached us. Er, we don't have an identity card as we're not French. And, er, we don't have a metro ticket as we threw them away. He looked sceptical. Bizarrely, he asked us where exactly. What? Oh, in the waste bin down there. I pointed vaguely. So, the policeman led Him indoors away to rummage in a wastebin like a vagrant. Thankfully he found both tickets, and after checking my credentials the policeman allowed us to leave. Phew. That was a close call, said Him indoors. P'raps I shouldn't have asked if I could help him with his enquiries?