It’s a strange thing to admit, but I don’t think I’ve ever properly been to France.
Not even for a meaningful day out.
This was put right though today, as we headed out on a hypermarket run to Calais, via Boulogne-sur-Mer, a little further down the coast.
An early start was followed by an apt croissant breakfast, after which we piled into the (French-made) car and headed down to Folkestone. Obviously, I’d never taken the Eurotunnel Shuttle either, and was impressed with the way in which it disappears into the Channel Tunnel, and emerges in the land of coffee, the world’s most romantic language, and snails.
While the grown-ups headed for the hypermarkets, we explored the old town, surrounded by fortified remains. The walk was a pleasant one, although being only 20 or so miles away from Blighty meant that we’d brought the cold and grey weather with us.
Not so good for taking pictures.
We did capture good scenes though. Arriving at the castle, we were even witness to a wedding, the happy couple being photographed with friends and family, unaware that above them were two peeping English travellers.
The food more than made up for any picture shortcomings though. The mussels which were served to me in a proper moule pot were very fresh, as we’d only seen them being brought in from the shore a few minutes earlier.
And, with Nik being more than a little au fait with the language, we all enjoyed what we had wanted to order.
The train home was early, and as the car was swallowed into the industrial-looking carriage, it dawned on us that we were the solitary car on that deck.
Reminding me of the interior from a Bond or Kubrick film, we reflected on the day’s events, and let the train take the strain, speeding us through the countryside, and towards home.
Next stop, Paris.
[...] last year (which was over a month later), the sun shone down on us, and made the market town much more [...]