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Friday 13th Part 1: The Strike Before Christmas
This was a trip report I never intended to write, some rather routine flights and train travel the kind I've shared to death on here before. However, this batch of trips were laced with disaster every step of the way. On the plus side, three months later I have my health and my sanity and I suppose that's all that matters.
There is an introductory part to the TR that you can read on my blog that covers the calm before the storm and a life that feels a world a way right now. If you like Michelin starred food and the City of London then feel free to click the link here... (You can also find a slightly more "political version of this tale there as well) If that's not your cup of tea it's time to move on with the show! Almost a month had passed since I finished celebrating my birthday and the bright lights of Christmas were fast approaching on the festive motorway. At that time a transport strike in France against pension reforms was the last thing on my mind. In nearly 20 years of back and forth across the channel it's probably harder to find an occasion when either planes, trains or boats weren't linked to some sort of strike or engineering works than everything working 100%. In the UK we had something slightly bigger than a strike going on, we had yet another general election. Whilst the left continually turned on one another, the right put on quite a night taking large swathes of seats across the country in what was billed as a resounding victory. Thankfully this is not a politics site, it's a travel one and me writing about hoping on a plane, taking the train or relaxing in an airport lounge is my way of muddling through. Anyway, let's get started with this festive adventure. Step back to some god forsaken hour on Friday the 13th and with every interrupted hour of sleep it was clear that like that awful New Labour theme tune, things could only get better, it just might be a while. I was glad that I'd already made my peace with 2019, I knew it was going to be a year of frustration, disappointment and loss before it even started. A year where everything and everyone that mattered would be put to the test and with the accuracy of the world's finest auto-correct, I was mostly right. Whilst this meant I spent the early part of the year worrying about who and what would fail my tests I found my inner lion, gathering strength from everyone and everything that passed. As long as I kept building those bridges, kept being there for everyone and everything that really mattered. When I finally woke up on that fateful Friday morning I felt hungover like I'd accidentally crashed the wrong party and curled up alone in the corner with just a bottle of low grade vodka for company. Unfortunately I'd not had a drop to drink the night before, though in hindsight maybe I should have done. I pulled myself out of bed and got ready for work. I kissed Mrs Spymon goodbye and dragged my case out the door. My train to work was largely filled with a quiet resignation, though there were a token few that appeared to hold an air of quiet self satisfaction, that same smugness that drips horribly from the kind of folk who laugh behind the backs at those who don't know if their locks conform to British 'safety-standard' BS3621 Other than my growing sense of gloom that the country was going to implode, it was an uneventful trip to work. My day at the office got off to a decent start with some dish water masquerading as coffee thanks to it being poured into a Starbucks cup and a plate of hash browns with a side of eggs. The hash browns definitely worked! It was Christmas jumper day in the office and I was not taking part, though elf hats off to the chap behind me who had gone full reindeer, it was most impressive. Lunch was some vile mishmash of Christmas dinner left overs stuffed into a dried out hot dog bun and smothered with spicy salsa in a weak attempt to mask the staleness. Coupled with another coffee run it powered me through to just before 4 o'clock when I had something more fun in mind. Train: TFL Railhttps://live.staticflickr.com/65535/...94316497_b.jpg |
Great report thank you!
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Aces, super fun
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Thanks for the escape. Looking forward to the rest of the story!
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Originally Posted by enviroian
(Post 32520345)
Great report thank you!
Originally Posted by gaobest
(Post 32520943)
Aces, super fun
Originally Posted by Flywriter;
(Post 32520971)
Thanks for the escape. Looking forward to the rest of the story!
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Friday 13th Part 1 - Continued
After a fun and slightly intoxicated weekend catching up with family and an unhealthy amount of football it was time to head back to London. As luck would have it and in my case this was only going to be bad luck I'd decided to get the train home to try out the brand new operator on the West Coast Mainline on their first day of operations.
Train: Avanti West Coast |
Friday 13th Part 1 - The Strike Before Christmas
Tuesday morning began with bad omens. I spotted a woman who I swore was my old French teacher sat two rows in front of me on my train to London. I should really have got the message something was up. I stopped off at the Eurostar ticket office on the way into work and after waiting an age listening to sob stories of people who were genuinely stuck by the strike and having a little inside chuckle at those who had clearly just made up an excuse to get a free re-booking due to their own lateness or ineptitude it was my turn to be given the news that much like that on Friday 13th we'd been expecting but somehow believed wouldn't happen...
'Twas the strike before Christmas, when all through the house Not a creature was working, not even a mouse; The placards were hung by the chimney with care, In hopes that pension demands soon would be theirs; The strikers were nestled all snug in their beds; While visions of better conditions danced in their heads; And Anne-So in her 'kerchief, and I in my cap, Had just battled our brains for a long winter of crap, When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter, I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter. Away to the window I flew like a flash, Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash. The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow, Gave a lustre of midday to objects below, When what to my wondering eyes did appear, But a reward flight saver to GNB, our ticket out of here! Whilst our Eurostar was running as normal the connecting TGV had been cancelled due to the SNCF strike in France. Despite numerous checks from an absolutely wonderful service agent there were no sane or available routes we could be booked on to. I was given the sound advice not to cancel and ask for a refund till after our trip was over should in case we made it to France by other means so as to preserve our inbound ticket. I messaged Anne-So the bad news and headed off to work, hoping I'd not be too late and we could find a solution to save our Christmas plans. My friend T suggested we could swim the channel but that would have left us stranded in Calais rather than Lille! Luckily old St Nick was on our side as two hours later I'd found us a flight from Gatwick to Grenoble for the Saturday morning and a night at the Hilton Gatwick for significantly less cash than we had laid out for the outbound Eurostar tickets! Job done, thank you Avios, thank you left over Hilton points, this was going to be a Christmas to remember after all and my first one spent in France for a decade where funnily enough French public transport also played games by trying to strand me at CDG on Christmas Eve! Trains: Southeastern High Speed and ThameslinkThe next few days passed quickly enough and once again I was getting that Friday feeling! |
in the case of cooking oil less is more
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Originally Posted by offerendum
(Post 32531755)
in the case of cooking oil less is more
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Lucky 13 Strikes Again
Apologies for the slow progress on this report but life very much got in the way over the last week or so meaning that working on TRs here, there or anywhere weren't high on my priority list. However, it looks like the clouds have cleared and it's time to continue this rambling tale.
We slept well and despite its age the Hilton did at least have a comfortable bed. We got up around 05:00 the next morning and made like the walking dead into the shower with the hope we'd quickly return to the world of the living. We got our stuff together and made a hasty dash for check out with the lifts trying their best to slow our progress. Despite its shortcomings I'd happily stay at this Hilton again if the price was right. Walking through the corridors towards the terminal building now felt like second nature and I was looking forward to enjoying the premium experience BA had laid on for their best customers at London's second busiest airport. I have to say, colour me impressed! There was a premium entry way reminiscent of the first class sections at Heathow, but unlike Heathrow there were loads of free desks filled with smiling faces. https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/...ba934dc4_b.jpg It was all going rather well till we were made aware of a baggage belt failure but we were assured that as long as our bags were tagged they'd be fine. A smiling luggage porter reassured Mrs Spymon we could leave our bags with him and he'd ensure they'd make the plane. https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/...aff81928_b.jpg We then headed to premium security and sped through that as well. https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/...dba1fb57_b.jpg Despite the early hour I was quite enjoying myself. It was then we made a beeline for the lounge and honestly the route couldn't have been less premium, all that was missing was someone begging for change by the lift entrance. Down one dead end corridor to some lifts and then up again into what felt like another wrong turn. It was almost as bad as trying to find the secret showers in the Al Mourjan Lounge in Doha. British Airways Business LoungeWe finally found the BA lounge and despite the interesting routing we'd made really good time. |
Glad you made it to France :-)
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Originally Posted by gaobest
(Post 32549574)
Glad you made it to France :-)
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Originally Posted by gaobest
(Post 32549574)
Glad you made it to France :-)
David |
Christmas in France: Ardeche and Annecy
It was a beautiful day in Southern France and N, my sister-in-law was out to meet us for the drive back to Valence. Despite the to be expected wrong turn out of the airport we were soon on track and headed along the autoroute towards my Father-in-law's place. Apparently we would not be meeting his new partner this time round, so one of our reasons for making this trip was rendered null and void just minutes after arrival. We met F for lunch at La Campanile across the road from his house and as per usual the majority of the food was barely one step up from my work canteen but at least it left us feeling full.
A bony piece of meat from a duck who tasted like he'd had a hard life, a sad serving of frozen chips and a handful of reheated legumes that may or may not have been straight from an industrial sized can. https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/...c534b167_b.jpg Dessert on the other hand was harder to resist. A buffet full of goodies that rapidly coaxed out my inner greed. https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/...3e3e8e70_b.jpg We finished with full stomachs and coffees before heading back to my Father-in-laws place to drop our stuff. The afternoon was spent in town Christmas shopping, picking up most of our gifts on the 21st which to my in-laws would be the equivalent of purchasing in the summer sales! I do love Valence, it is a pretty town with some amazing restaurants. Although I always complain about how late they leave the Christmas shopping it was a pretty fun afternoon and I can't remember the last time I saw the town lit up like that. https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/...ca3ba85b_b.jpg I was also left alone in FNAC far too long and got awfully tempted by some Star Wars Lego as well as the Columbo and Gilmour Girls box sets on offer. The only thing that didn't go to plan was getting a decent bottle of whisky for my brother-in-law, G. I found the one that I wanted but the price was shockingly high compared to what a popular middle class supermarket was flogging it for back home, just annoyingly not our local branch! We survived the early evening rally drive into deepest darkest Ardèche and bedded in with N, G and our niece, Little N, so as to give ourselves some breathing space from my wonderful Father-in-law and his many quirks. Screw you strikes, screw you Friday 13th we were going to have our Christmas and there was nothing you could do about it! After all the excitement of travel, Sunday was a perfectly unremarkable day. We visited N's shop, Epiceyrieux which back at Christmas time resembled a building site. https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/...5ac84956_b.jpg We made time for a little fun visiting one of Little N's favourite places, Lugic Parc where you too, can play luge, albeit with seat-belts and multiple safety features. https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/...488b4811_b.jpg We did a couple of rounds but both G and I were disappointed that we did not manage to hit the top speed of 40km/h. On the other hand, N and Little N were over the moon at reaching 24km/h whilst much to everyone's disappointment Mrs Spymon refused to ride at all. On the way home we picked up a giant bird from a local farm, for eating that is, not racing, riding and certainly not as a pet. There was a hint of snow in the air and all that was missing were some reindeer bells and a jolly bearded chap in a big red suit. I spent the final days before Christmas working and despite a few issues with connectivity and over exuberant hospitality everything was going just fine. Or at least it was until I received the rather strange e-mail below from my Dad regarding the Christmas presents... https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/...6349c764_b.jpg Christmas Eve rolled around and after being given permission to clock off early from work. I was returned to the in-laws place, it was finally time... Strikes, broken WiFi and five more years of that horrible lot were forgotten over a few glasses of champagne, some canapes and a tiny little bit of cooking rage. https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/...70d3027e_b.jpg It was not my fault I had been lumbered with possibly the most appalling instructions for cooking duck breast I've ever seen. Thankfully the acrid smoke gave way to a decent medium, but the fat had rendered poorly. The celeriac and butternut purees that N had cooked up were rich and tasty with butter and cream, if not the most refined. I think if we were doing MasterChef we'd not be getting our aprons, no matter how tasty the meal was. https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/...a54e6cd8_b.jpg Christmas morning started with presents as when you have a 4 year old who loves opening presents, all presents, any presents there's no other way to start the day. Having lugged all my gifts hundreds of miles from Macclesfield, home to Canterbury, back through London and finally to France I was happy that my family had got me exactly what I wanted and I spent the morning in my pyjamas skimming my new Honey & Co cook book and wanting to whip up many of the Middle Eastern delights contained within its pages. Despite my Dad's concern all the presents I opened appeared to be mine. We ate our Christmas lunch at G's parents and I have to confess I remember very little other than the following: Firstly, we drank copious amount of different wines, all delicious and all incredibly well matched with the accompanying food. https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/...6319f44e_b.jpg https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/...01a3863a_b.jpg https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/...af49f2a6_b.jpg Second, for some reason there was a huge display of gourds of varying shapes and sizes on the dining table. https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/...9384b726_b.jpg https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/...a5d78875_b.jpg It has taken me the following four months to look a butternut squash in the eye without feeling a little nauseous. And finally, stunningly good though Christmas dinner was, the lack of roast potatoes made me miss home. https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/...0e65e871_b.jpg Almost any would have done, be it the slightly greasy ones that I do that are never ready on time, the perfectly crisp ones my Granddad used to cook, that will remain etched in memory forever, my Dad's homage that just aren't quite the same and even the ones from my mum that cook for 30 mins at 200C in the oven and are then reheated countless times for no apparent reason at all. I recall messaging my friends and family back in the UK at this seasonal oversight and they were as shocked as I was at their omission. One uninvited guest who I do recall despite my tipsy haze was Father Christmas, I'm not sure he was supposed to visit in person and to add insult to injury I'm not sure Little N was the one who enjoyed it the most! https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/...6e120be9_b.jpg I missed my potatoes and I decided to call my family and see how their days had gone. It finally sunk in that whilst it's nice to have a family Christmas, it's not quite the same when it's someone else's family! On Boxing Day (for me at least, not for the French who simply just beheaded the masters and therefore had no need to offer a gift box to their servants) we made the drive to Annecy. Mrs Spymon had mentioned taking me to Annecy for as many years as I could remember, promising a beautiful lake and a cute little old town. We powered along the motorway stopping at an awfully overcrowded service station for lunch, don't judge, I already did and yes in an ideal world we'd have left a tiny bit earlier and enjoyed a nice meal in town rather than a rushed Paul meal deal on a dirty service station table where we had to take it in turns to sit down. https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/...715c2ce3_b.jpg I was debating the sanity of travelling all this way for such a short stay, but my doubts quickly evaporated half an hour later when we arrived in town. The in-laws dropped Anne-So and I off so we could do some sightseeing and they could spend some time with their friends making cheese or some such other artisan activity. I enjoyed our stroll through the narrow streets of Annecy, the walk up to the castle, a stroll through the food market, watching the river flow through the bridges and out the other side. It was a glorious sunny afternoon and life was just perfect. https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/...e4935995_b.jpg https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/...36d05f10_b.jpg https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/...d3443d42_b.jpg https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/...2bd79fd5_b.jpg https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/...d686ea57_b.jpg https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/...4892fbc0_b.jpg We then decided we'd give everyone Boxing Day walk envy and do a partial circuit of the lake at sunset. https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/...c5e146be_b.jpg https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/...1e3da953_b.jpg https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/...78c4c848_b.jpg https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/...1215e66e_b.jpg An outstandingly beautiful panorama played out becoming increasingly spectacular as we rounded the curve of the lake to reveal the old town staring back at us across the water. https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/...099f5859_b.jpg https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/...312ca39f_b.jpg The last rays of sun vanished behind the mountain when we suddenly remembered we had a bus to catch and we were cutting it awfully fine! https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/...025afb54_b.jpg We immediately sped up and luckily found our little bus stop. With the sun now a long lost memory the cold began to bite, light rain fell and I fired up my phone stupidly believing Chelsea would put up a warming Boxing Day fight whilst we waited, but instead it all just fell apart. Finally after half an hour of Mrs Spymon complaining that it wouldn't come, that we'd missed it or it would drive right past us because I was watching football the bus turned up. If you thought a nice warm bus journey around the lake was just what the doctor ordered you'd be right. Sadly this was not what we got. From everyone hogging empty seats with their bags in a way that would put even the most hardened of London commuters to shame to the shrieking little **** of a child and their parents sat just a little behind us. He had mummy issues, mummy had little shrieking **** issues and mummy won the cruel game of chicken, sleeping blissfully whilst everyone else on the bus wanted to wring their necks. I know you shouldn't judge and there was clearly no way of knowing what that family had been through that day but you do feel there might have been a better way of handling the situation than forcing everyone else captive on that coach to feel their pain as their dearly beloved screeched his tiny little guts out. The calm of the lake and the magic of sunset had quite literally been shattered in to many temper tantrum shaped pieces. Between that and the football things could only get better... Well, maybe not just yet as our in-laws were late and we had to wait for twenty freezing minutes at the blistering cold bus stop where they'd agreed to meet us before they showed up in their steamy car. Thankfully the evening picked up quite considerably from here. The in-laws had found a glorious Airbnb for us to stay in, the kind that if it wasn't in the middle of a seasonal tourist resort you'd feel guilty about renting. We didn't have long to unpack as we were headed to a large gathering with some of their friends. Personally I was dreading it as being in a room full of strangers without the common bond of work or study is something I often find pretty unpleasant, not only that but I expected that I would be required to perform the art of conversation in my second language and calling French my second language is already quite a stretch. Things did not get off to the best of starts as we were met by a chorus of dog barks from a sad old hound that was just missing her master. https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/...89e5d087_b.jpg Thankfully the night quickly picked up as most everyone gathered spoke fluent English, were incredibly good company and there was enough wine and beer flowing to fill a shark tank twice over. As Boxing Day came to a close, dinner was served. Several steaming hot dishes of molten tartiflette were summoned from the oven and our glasses were topped up with enough wine to knock us sideways. What more could you want? It was at that point I was a little annoyed with both myself and my in-laws as I remembered that unlike almost everybody else in attendance I had work the next day. OK, it wasn't like I'd need to leave the apartment we were staying in but I could have done with a proper night's sleep. Anyway, despite my irritations it had been a fun day and I was incredibly glad we'd made the trip to Annecy. Some people call it karma, others yin and yang, the religious might say heaven and hell or for the sake of this tale you could say it was just Friday 13th coming off one final seasonal bender and sharing its horrible hangover with us. Screw strikes, elections, family Christmas, nature, friendship, we were sick! It started in the middle of the night when N became a walking vomit comet and like any good sister Mrs Spymon quickly took up her sibling's vocation of sleep and sick. Me, I was fine. G was healthy too, as was Little N. I tried my best to work between the endless heaves, snores and flushes, cooking up some lunch and later dinner for G and I from the Christmas left overs we'd taken with us. I'm not going to lie, as tasty as it was I didn't want to see another puree or slab of turkey till next Christmas. I spent the evening reading more Paul Theroux and watching football which I believe was a absolute thriller involving Manchester City and Wolves where both both sides must have broken the changing room mirrors ahead of kick off. We once again awoke to the beautiful misty morning mountain view and prepared to check out of our Airbnb apartment. https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/...b891dfa2_b.jpg With everything packed into the boot we made a quick stop at the fragrant next door coffee roasters for some fresh beans (which turned out to be pretty decent for the price). We then drove into town and enjoyed an icy walk through the winding backstreets and the food market of Thones. For lunch we stopped off at La Chaumine for pizza, intentionally ignoring their cheese and cream filled alpine speciality dishes. Well, two and a half of us were eating, Anne-So and N were still feeling a little worse for wear. https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/...731b9341_b.jpg We walked some more and fate having one last laugh forced us into the nearest bar for a coffee and use of the facilities. At least I managed to order and pay by myself whilst Mrs Spymon was locked away. The fun continued when Mrs Spymon then swore she'd lost her phone in the loo. Tracing back her steps it was still missing only to finally turn up stuck in the lining of her handbag. Thankfully we were heading back as it was turning into one of those days. The drive back to Valence was suitably scenic, though squeezed into my back seat corner I was once again attempting to watch yet more football with varying degrees of success. At least the signal cutting out gave me an excuse to look out the window at the rolling hills and snow capped peaks. It was a long drive to Valence but it was good to be back somewhere stable as we had other concerns on our mind like getting home to the UK as the French were going all out for the Guinness World Record strike and daily train cancellations were very much a reality. Perhaps my friend T's idea of swimming home wasn't so bad after all. Thankfully as a back up there were multiple airports to chose from as long as someone was willing to drive us. By the time Mrs Spymon and N had almost recovered it was my turn to suffer. I spent Saturday night in bed with just the football and the toilet for company, the football like my stomach got better with time, what started out as unbearable pain at 1-0 down was certainly a lot better 97 minutes later. Our friend N sent me a message asking if I'd seen the game as over the last year or so she has started developing her love of football and we have promised to go to a match together at some point. Despite the sport providing some relief I slept badly and in addition to the regular toilet trips I had also developed a fever and was now slightly delirious. Fun times! On Sunday we'd agreed to go to one of the couscous restaurants in town for a farewell lunch. Thankfully my stomach had somewhat stabilised overnight and as long as I didn't eat or drink I could hold out for an hour or two. But honestly, if a delicious curry is my go to happy meal at home, a trip to France never feels complete without a big helping of couscous, a ladle full of stew and a smattering of spicy merguez sausages. Life was cruel but even in my delicate state I was not turning this one down. Seeing as our old favourite Le Marrakech had closed down we went to La Mamounia, a grand gold ceilinged North African inspired room in the middle of town. Service was friendly and portions were generous, unable to decide I went with the a mixte: chicken and lamb kebabs with a delicious spicy merguez on the side! Delicious! https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/...d7a24680_b.jpg https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/...e47ba0d6_b.jpg https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/...44ebb1bc_b.jpg Food poisoning be damned, I was going to finish the lot and somehow I even found the room to steal a couple of spare baklava hanging around the table with the post lunch coffees. After lunch we paid a quick visit to my Mother-in-law's grave before I asked if I could head home as my stomach was rumbling again and I wasn't the least bit hungry! Again I was lucky to one, make it back just in time and two have some alone time to listen to music, read and watch yet another football match, I love the festive fixture list. The weekend was almost over and I was going to make the most of it before heading back to work on Tuesday. In other good news it seemed our TGV to Lille was still running as long as we could get to Lyon first which meant an hours drive rather than a ten minute one. As we moved slowly towards the end of the year there was light at the end of Santa's tunnel. Sunday night proved a significant upgrade on Saturday night, no delirium, less trips to the little boys room and a half decent night's sleep. We set out for Lyon Monday lunch time and after the usual dramas, near misses and arguments that occur when my Father-in-law drives us anywhere we arrived. By some Festivus miracle we found a free of charge parking spot opposite Part-Dieu station and we had only one place on our minds for lunch, Japontori where I was looking forward to enjoying some sweet grilled yakitori goodness. Whilst certainly not the most glamorous of spots it was cheap, tasty and held good memories for Mrs Spymon and I, the most poignant being the Valentines Day where we decided to get married, raising a little champagne toast to ourselves on the flight home. Love at 40,000 feet! I'm sure I posted this in one of my other TRs! I always order the same yakitori set and a slightly dodgy belly was not going to hold me back even if it probably should have done. https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/...99f4a716_b.jpg I had an ice cold beer to start, followed by the usual Asian slaw & soup and then the hot and sexy action begins, straight from the charcoal grill with barely a nod from server to chef: little skewers of chicken, beef, duck, mushrooms and even cheese wrapped in ham (one we didn't spy in Japan) were delivered to my plate. As always the char-grilled experience was over far too soon but that meal was just what I needed to lift the spirits with a long train journey home ahead of us. After lunch we went for a slow walk to find a park for Little N to play in. It was then time for a long and protracted walk back to the station as Little N wasn't so keen for us to return home to the UK. Back at the car we parted ways before walking across the road, past the gleaming white trams and the usual hustle and bustle of crowds arriving at the station. We entered the station concourse through the automatic doors, hoping for the best... Up next the braving the train home. |
Originally Posted by DELee
(Post 32556077)
Sounds like France is where it all fell apart...
David |
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