I can romanticise a wonderful story while I write this with 42 miles to go till we get to Bruges, Belgium. Other than I don’t want to, I keep getting distracted by the music. Car dancing is up there for one of the best places to boogie.
This is day two, we stayed the night in Dunkirk, France. Now imagine the beauty in front of us as we watched the sunset on the beach. We could have been whispering sweet nothings to each other but no, we were talking about stereotypes of countries. They exist because it’s true, it’s all true. France is so French. We went to the town hall in Calais and wandered around the park, tulips in bloom, and there were young lovers kissing, an old man walking a tiny dog, bakeries, you get the gist. You know when you expect a place to look like something then it’s a shock that it is exactly like that.
We listed English stereotypes and they are also all true. We do love tea. We really do, and I’m struggling this morning waking up at 6:30am (English time) without having a cup or two. I’ve survived though, thank you for your concern. It is 9:33 and we have half an hour to go. A Belgium beer at 10am may do the trick instead.
We missed our ferry at Dover, completely our (James’s) fault. They let us on the next ferry though which was literally right then. The bad thing is that we didn’t even know we missed it, we just didn’t check the times and how long before you should arrive. I bet they hate people like us.
There was a few panics like this on the first day. Obviously the driving on the other side of the road was a big one. When I booked the hotel and we turned up to check in I completely forgot about our big grocery bag sitting next to the desk, and guess what was sitting right on the top of our French beers and on display for the world to see? The new camera in its box. We went up to the 7th floor, James just sat on the toilet (you know what I mean) and it suddenly dawned on me. I ran out the room blurting out so many swear words and suffocating in the world crumbling around me. I know, dramatic, but it was such a bitch getting this camera as you would know if you read my last post. So, I was running, then stopped and waited for the poxy lift to climb 7 floors, ran in, stopped and waited for the lift to reach the ground floor, then ran out to the check in desk. It was all fine, you’ve probably already gathered that. The camera box was upside down luckily so no one could see what it was.
This very moment we have pulled into a service station. Before we are leave France we want a coffee and a croissant. I say France, it could be Belgium. We haven’t passed any boarders.. We literally just went past a sign saying Bruges. It’s a Belgium coffee. Well, we will be back in France at the end of the trip. There was a sign saying Belgium (I assume, it was spelt different) but I just dismissed it – the sign was so unmagnificent it was just like arriving in Sidcup. I just found one of James’s dogs hairs on my cup. How can there be a fucking dog hair so many miles away?
So, I have my camera but it’s pretty unbelievable how careless I’ve become. The better I am mentally the more carefree I am, but to the extreme. Before, so before this year, I was overly cautious and careful. My anxiety controlled me. I finished CBT therapy a few weeks ago and now I’ve flipped to the other side and am overly careless. I mean, I do much prefer this side of the scale, but it’s funny how I seem to do everything by extremes and dramatically.
Another dramatic moment, as I walked onto the ferry at Dover (like when you’re walking onto a plane) I started to cry and said out loud ‘I’m living my dream!’
All there is left to mention is the few notes I wrote in my notebook;
– I popped my travel sickness pills and feel tired
– we had one coffee and a pint on the ferry
– problems with driving. PROBLEMS.
– gained a few more spots
– seagulls sound the same everywhere and no matter what it’ll always remind me of Hastings or Brighton, or even my local supermarket – why are there always seagulls at ASDA?