Thursday 7th August 2024

Thursday, and time to go home.

Or at least start the journey.

We found out this year when we drove to Tuscany, just how many hours driving through the country from Calais to the south was.

It was going to take between three and four hours for me to get from Reims to the Tunnel, then check in, wait for a train and so on.

I might be home by two.

I have a shower, get dressed and go to breakfast, have more bread and apricot jam, followed by coffee.

I then go to pack, giving the room one last sweep before going to check out and load the car.

I was going to visit the cathedral in Amiens, so programmed a nearby car park to it on my phone, and set off, out of the compound, over the roundabout and onto the motorway.

It was dull and grey, with a hint of mist in the air, though little wind, so I drove steadily west, following the changes in road made by the phone.

Only issue is that driving a right hand drive car, when I got to the tolls, I had to get out, walk round the car to either collect a ticket of pay the charge. Mostly, drivers of cars behind me thought this very funny indeed.

I reached the outskirts of Amiens, and my overthinking meant I pondered and eventually convinced myself that driving into the centre, finding a place to park and taking hundreds of shots of the cathedral was going to take too much time, so changed direction and turned north towards Calais instead.

Though I still cruised some 20kph below the limit, easy to do with traffic light, and meaning I could listen to the podcasts through the car's speakers.

Soon there were signs suggesting time spent on a beach or on the cliffs, meaning I was near Calais.

The last toll paid, driving past Boulogne, and counting down the junction numbers until I reached exit 44, and the turning for the wine warehouse.

I wasn't here for wine, but for beer, but the Belgian Christmas beers were not yet in stock, so I buy some magnums of my favourite beers, some cider for Jools, and a bottle of liqueur made from grape must.

Next door to the fromagerie, and I point to four different cheeses, buy those before going to the last shop to buy some fresh bread. I should have bought some fancy cakes, but my limited French deserted me.

So, laden with booze, cheese and bread, I drive two junctions back down to the exit for the tunnel, check in, go straight to immigration, and ten minutes later I was in the lounge, having been told there was 20 minutes before loading for the next train closed.

There's free food, so I have a wrap, a sandwich and a can of pop before going to the car, driving to the waiting area, where almost at once we were allowed to board.

And that was the adventure over with. The train pulled out, I didn't notice, then snoozed through the trip under the sea, so that the daylight in Folkestone as we left the tunnel jolted me awake.

Soon we were let off, so I drive off, taking the left hand lane to exit at Dollands Moor, then through Frogholt to the motorway, through the nostril and to Dover.

I fill up at the garage on Townwall Street, then go home, where Mulder and Scully were hungry. One of the bowls was upside down at the bottom of the stairs.

I feed them, and they go to bed.

Happy.

The car was unloaded, dirty laundry put in the machine, and everything else in its place, before boiling the kettle for a brew, and as a treat, have a Halloween cup cake I liberated from the Tunnel.

There was bread and cheese for dinner, so nothing to prepare, just leave the cheese out to "breathe", and sip my brew.

Jools arrives, I slice the bread and we try two of the cheeses, both delicious, and unpasteurised. As they should be. One of which is like two camemberts with some kind of spiced fruit in the middle. No idea what the filling was, but had hints of spice and fruit, maybe like those who have cheese with their Christmas cake?

A lazy evening, listening to Man Utd in Europe, sipping wine and nibbling on Mini Cheddars.

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