27/02/25 00:06

I am shattered.  I’m sat down on a cafe chair, onboard a ferry.  I’m not going to the Isle of Wight; I’m off to Calais.  And then it’s Paris.  Calais is simply where we’re docking once we (the Flixbus and passengers) disembark on this voyage.  It didn’t start too well, this journey.  Naturally, I was delayed leaving home.  Unc, it’s called a Mars bar.  It’s honestly not that important.

That meant that on my arrival at Barkingside station, the Tube had just left and the next one that was meant to be there in 3 minutes, actually arrived after 9 minutes.  But that’s fine as I was still early enough to get to Victoria Coach Station early enough to find out where my coach was.  This time around.  And I claimed my seat, 14C, without incident.  Which is more that the 6 late people could do.  And then there was nearly a fight between the young, late, English lad and the older French chap that was settled in the correct seat.

It may have been karma, but these two were caught up in drama at the passport office.  Both were called back and after much on and off, they came back and then we had an hour’s wait for the ferry.