Tales from our travels - part 2

Dunkirk is more famous as a place for getting off the continent than onto to it. However it’s apparently a cheaper destination than Calais so at 4am our small ferry nosed its way out of Dover into one of the world’s busiest waterways for the short trip across the Channel. It’s been the better part of ten years since I’ve been on a ferry. I never thought I’d use the Tunnel, let alone recommend other to, but it is so quick and easy. But it has no magic. You miss leaving and there’s no great sense of arrival. You can’t walk out on deck at 5am to survey the view and talk to your video camera!

I not sure why I opted for a particularly stodgy English breakfast as we gently swayed across the mercifully calm waters. As last meals go it was particularly poor, although perhaps comfortingly reminiscent of school dinners back in the day before Jamie Oliver got his hands on them! With this laying heavy in my stomach I stretched out on the bench seating in the cafeteria and attempted sleep. Sleep in strange places is much more Rowan’s forte than mine, and with barely an hour left until we docked it was firmly rooted in the token gesture camp. And then it was as my brother had predicted: a new dawn for us as dawn broke over northern France and we began our journey south.

Comments

Anonymous said…
Reading this I was reminded of my first trip abroad, to Switzerland in 1966. There I ate those hitherto only read of substances: croissants! And beautifully pale and crisp breakfast rolls, soft on the inside, that we spread with pale butter. Imagine the shock then, on the journey home, when we were faced with the British Rail Ferry's equivalent - hard yellow butter (or was it marge?) to spread on our sliced white bread!

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