Tuesday 10th January 2017

Now, I had planned to do some more phys before heading out to the Channel Tunnel. But you know, mornings and that. And I slept through the alarm until twenty past six, giving me less time than I thought, and I had to pack. And have breakfast.

So I did not go on the cross-trainer. I drank coffee, ate breakfast and packed. Jools left for work at seven, and I left at ten past eight, into the morning school run traffic rush. But all seemed well as I got straight onto the Deal Road, but seeing a ferry had docked and the roads busy, I thought I would go through town. And thinking it was silly to go up Military Road so up and over St Martins, instead I thought a quick zip up Old Folkestone Road would be good.

Only, it was school run time, cars parked everywhere, and people walking in the road. In short, I made slow progress, taking probably half an hour longer to go on the short cut than driving along the now full open two lanes on Townwall Street. Maybe I'll learn.

Anyway, I arrive at the terminal eventually, check in, grab a breakfast from the lounge, use the facilities and have a coffee before the loading could begin. Not much to report, other than we drive on, and I spend the trip reading the FT, and soon we are over in France.

As we traveled under the seabed, I made a phonecall to a colleague so I could say to him I was, in fact, under the sea, on a train, in my car, and talking to him on the phone. A wireless phone. And this is really the future. He seemed unimpressed.

As we lined up to drive off the train, my bladder then decided to tell me maybe we should have used the facilities, but its only an hour, right? Right, and yet wrong. Because as I drove north out of the town, the pain got worse. I mean I could have stopped, but Oostende seemed so close, so I pushed on. I could now feel every bump of the road, and it hurt, my precious it hurt. But I had now made it into Belgium, up to the A10 junction, and then drove wast into town, along to the offices, where I dashed out of the car, rushed into the rest room. And. Relief.

So, with lunchtime having arrived, I eat the breakfast I got at the tunnel, and got down to work, forging ahead and apparently actually getting in control. Which is nice. And odd.

At half four, I drive to the hotel, check in and have yet another room facing in towards the roof of the kitchens. Its OK, but I would have liked a sea view. I put the radio on and lay on the bed.

At seven, I meet Manu in the lobby and we walk to the seafood place along the promenade. It has about 50 tables, of which 1 other is taken. It is a little known fact that the favourite food in both Holland and Belgium is the croquette. And anything can be put in a croquette; cheese, prawns, noodles. Anyway, you can't beat a good croquette, so we both order prawn croquette, which I follow with red Thai curry.

It is very nice, and the service is great, as you would expect.

And that is it. The promenade was empty as you expect at half eight on a cold and windy night, so we walk quickly back to the hotel, and return to our rooms where I lay on the bed more and listen to more radio.