Victoria Coach Park. Home to the many times that I caught the coach to Cardiff via Cheltenham and Gloucester. Today, I find myself sat here, an hour before departure on the overnight bus to Paris.
I think I’m going to be heading through the Eurotunnel. I’m sure I remember hearing the news at school that the drill had breached the middle and we were now effectively connected to France. But I’m not sure if that was the Eurostar or the Chunnel. Or if in fact they both use the same under-the English Channel passage. Why is it the English Channel? Why not the Continental Channel? Anyway, I know for a fact that my first visit to France was on a coach via a ferry. I also know that it was on that very ferry that I somehow managed to order myself a Jack Daniel’s and Coke. The JD was only a miniature and yet it fit neatly inside the plastic beaker they supplied. It did not, however, allow for very much of the trial size can of Coke to dilute the bourbon. This was a very serious situation to be in. Long story short, I endured my first and only bout of seasickness. Which, whilst brought about by the motion of the English Channel, was not as a direct result of the aforementioned motion, solely. Gulping down burning neat alcohol to make room for the cola didn’t do much for my levels of soberness, nor for the empty stomach that it sat upon.