… for this internal alarm clock thing that we are supposed to have. Here I was, due to get out of bed at 07:00 (and on a Sunday too!) and to be on the safe side I’d even set two alarms, and yet there I was, sitting bolt-upright in bed at 06:00 precisely.
Of course, that didn’t last too long and I was soon back under the covers until firstly David Bowie and secondly Billy Cotton did the business.
30 seconds under the shower was more-than-enough and then we had this urine performance thingy. And that’s a real performance when I can’t make the machine work. In the end, I had to empty away a half-bottle of tomato sauce and use that … "the bottle, not the sauce" – ed. That is really taking the p155.
I’d allowed myself an hour to walk to the station and so 20 minutes later, in the bright early morning sunshine, there I was. I’d even had time to stop to buy a baguette to eat with my couscous for lunch. I’m nothing if not prepared (although I do realise that I have forgotten my sponge bag, and I’ll probably realise that there are a few other things that I have forgotten by the time that we arrive in Leuven).
MY ticket from Granville to Paris for a journey of over three-hours costs me just €20:00 (eat your heart out, you Brits!) and this is the train that I take.
Probably not a year old, they are magnificent and I really enjoy the journey. But typing of a train as it’s clattering over the joints in the track is bollyd dficicltue, I’ll tell you.
Pulled into Paris bang on time (eat your heart … ditto) and the direct Metro to the Gare du Nord was open this time. Mind you, it was a hell of a hike to Line 4 and I don’t fancy that in August with Strawberry Moose in his suitcase.
And it was heaving too – and on a Sunday. Like sardines we were. But 40 minutes saw us at the Gare du Nord. I went outside to eat my baguette and couscous. And it was steaming out there too. It’s a long time since I’ve felt it so warm.
And while I was out there I was harassed by a couple of beggars and amused myself watching a pirate taxi driver try his best to tempt gullible tourists into his car. But I was impressed that the savoir-faire of tourists in the town has improved somewhat.
The TGV was packed to the gunwhales and it was stinking hot in there too despite the air-conditioning. You can’t really open the windows at 220 mph I suppose. And we arrived at Brussels-Midi just in time for me to leg it onto the 15:55 to Eupen, with the guard very kindly holding the door open for me.
I’m now installed in my cosy little room with very thin walls and a loud television next door. And Bane of Britain has done it again – forgetting that it’s Sunday and so he can’t go shopping and now he has no coffee, no water, no nothing.
But after a brief repose (because it’s 32°C here believe it or not) I went for a walk and found a shop open and that helped.
The walk did even more to wear me out and when I arrived back I crashed out definitively until … errrr … 20:40 too. And I have so much to do.
But I did manage to find food and so that’s not too bad, and now I’m going to crash out again.
But this thing about three hours or so to Paris on the SNCF does remind me of the story about the Texan in Ireland, looking at the small size of the fields.
“Do you know” he exclaimed. “I can get into my car and it would take me three days to drive across my field back in Texas”
“I know just what you mean” said an Irishman
“Do you really????” asked the Texan incredulously
“Ohh yes” replied the Irishman. “I used to have a car like that myself”.
