Unbeknownst to us a volcano had errupted in Iceland and has covered European airspace in a fine glass like dust. Now the Europeans are a cautious lot and they banned all flights. We didn’t find this out until we got to the airport on Friday morning, nice and early, for our flight to Gatwick. I guess there were some clues - the hotel was full the night before and there were only 2 other people on the airport shuttle. So with some time pressure to get to the UK, i.e. we had to be there for my parents party - the whole reason for going, we decided to rent a car and drive to Calais and catch a boat to Dover. What could be easier? The only map we had was a 3"x5" all of France map in the Lonely Planet guide so I purchased a whole of France 3 ft x 3 ft map. If nothing else it was in colour. We had some tea and headed off with 1000 kms to do by supper time.
I must say the drive was excellent. The French roads are in very good shape - funded by tolls and income taxes - and the scenery was, very French. Through the Dordogne being our favourites. My technique for navigating Paris was to trust in the fact that there may be road signs pointing north or to Belgium. Even better, when we did get there, there were in fact signs pointing to the A1 Lille which is the road we needed. We pulled into Calais around 7.30pm.
At this point I breathed a sigh of relief in that I thought we’d made it. Usually you turn up, buy a ticket and hop on the next convenient boat. Well as it happens, there are some other equally desperate travelers and the queue was 3 hours long to get a ticket. I was quite cold too standing outside in the chill sea breeze. Luckily Sally managed to find us some lasagne and yucky coffee.
We got to the front of the queue at about 11.45pm and just got on the boat. I was late leaving as P&O levered more people on board in a Dunkerque like evacuation. Everyone was very good natured and humoured about the whole thing; they had to be really but complete strangers were lending phones and buying less fortunates coffee etc.
We got on board, found a seat and ordered 2 beers which we immediately consumed. We got 2 more but Sally fell asleep. Somewhere between Calais and Dover her beer evaporated. The rest of the journey went well. Dad picked us up, just like he had done 20 years before when Sally and I went on cross channel hops regularly. The whole of the Sands Estate Emergency Response team had been swung into action. A ride home, tea was waiting and my parents neighbours had our room ready with clean towels. I was asleep before Sally had showered - but we had made it.
Lot’s of C’s. Well the car I’ll review later but as you remember we landed in England at Dover and not Gatwick as planned and Gatwick is where our car was waiting patiently for us. We managed to get a ride there with my Aunt and Uncle who were trying to get back to France. They finally did through the tunnel a few days later. After much ado with paperwork, the rental company’s computer was overloaded due to the huge influx of rentals, we got a Chevrolet Matiz which, I might just review later in the blog. After we dropped Aunt and Uncle in Worthing S and I returned to Dymchurch through the countryside. East Sussex and Kent still get my vote for one of the best scenery in the world. That is until you leave Tenterden on the road to Appledore. All of a sudden you are faced with what used to be a nice view of Romney Marsh, as bleak as it is, now blighted by multiple wind turbines to make electricity. Such a shame. However, it was a nice drive over very familiar ground. Somehow it all seemed much closer together than it used to.
Our next adventure in the car, which has now been dubbed the “Washing Machine” was to Canterbury. When I was a kid I used to dread trips to this small city as it meant trudging around shops getting clothes and shoes for “back to school” purposes. However, nowadays we love going there. Cantabs is filled with history and has played a very important roll in shaping British history right from Roman times. The head of the Church of England, the Arch Bishop of Canterbury, for example. Chaucer’s exceedingly droll and somewhat rude tales are centered on a pilgrimage to Canterbury and there has been much intrigue over the ages. Nowadays it still enthralls with charming side streets and little boutiques, the Weavers restaurant with its ducking stool for naughty witches, the cathedral (of course) and city wall remains, and European influenced cafes and bars. It was on one such café patio, enjoying a lovely latte served by an equally lovely Czech waitress (I know because I asked) that S and I watched a Chinese bloke set up what looked like a steel guitar, speakers the whole 9 yards. After a bit of tuning he inserted a cd and started to play along with it. Now it wasn’t too bad, just totally out of place, but it was loud and he only knew 2 tunes. He was still playing the same 2 tunes 2 hours later when we walked passed on our way to the bus station. The fact I even mention it is that it was actually quite terrible and it is a credit to the people of Canterbury that they tolerate this racket in their beautiful city. The astute of you will have noticed the words bus station; yes we did drive but Canterbury has a wonderful park and ride scheme. You park on the outskirts of town and ride the bus in, all for a modest fee. In return the city center is less congested with traffic and overall way more enjoyable.
From Canterbury we drove down the A2 to Dover for a quick look in Sharp and Enright. This is a chandlers that has been in business a long time, in fact I expect they sold D shackles to the romans. The shop is a gold mine of sailing junk the likes of which you just don’t see other places. It’s not too far from here in Capel-le-Ferne that one of the most tasteful and pleasant (and surprisingly free) monuments to the pilots of the Battle of Britain exists. As you park and walk over there are replicas of a Spitfire and Hurricane fighter planes. Then built right into the white cliffs is a giant propellor with a large statue of a pilot sitting on the hub staring across the English Channel as if looking for fallen comrades. Behind the statue is a wall with the names of the fallen pilots from that battle. We stood on the edge of the cliffs for a while enjoying the English spring sunshine and contemplating the memorial on which we stood.
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