Tunnelling in the time of Covid

 So, log in to frequent traveller account, select crossings, click okay.  

There's a but coming

First of all, you have to be double vaccinated.  Okay, we all are.  Can we prove it?  Yes, we have letters from the NHS.   The Douanier at Folkestone checked them.  Stamped our passports.  That stamp is a Brexit thing, I think.  

When we get to France, we may have to prove that we are vaccinated to get into bars and restaurants.  The app to download is TousAntiCovid.  It didn't want to scan in our vaccination certificates.  But we were not planning on eating out anyway - the paperwork will do the job

And then we have to come back to the UK.  

Three days before we leave France, we need to get a test.  (Edit: this is no longer needed, they changed the rules).  Check out your nearest test provider at www.sante.fr. There are three pharmacists in our village which do it.  And you need documentary proof to load up to Eurotunnel.  I'm told it is wise to make an appointment.  We made an appointment.

The procedure was pretty straightforward.  Slightly different from the UK where they stick a cotton wool bud in your throat, then up your nose - the French pharmacist just does your nose.  It tickles.  Into a little tube of some sort of chemicals - could be tap water for all I know.  Then a drop of liquid into a little test unit.  One line and you test negative, two for positive.  We all come out negative

And two days after we return, we need to get tested again.  Despite paying my share of the £37 billion budget, the NHS tests are not good enough, apparently.  The government has a list of private test providers.  Cheapest is £20 a head, which is great if you live in Kendal and can turn up to their offices.  That firm charges £89 a head otherwise for the postal service.  

Other firms on the list are cheaper.  £28 for postal service seemed the best.  The website for that firm had a bug and wouldn't accept my order.  

So the £48 a head place.  I bought it, they sent me an email to register my details, and when we came back the test kits were waiting in the porch.  We tested ourselves and sent them off

A few days later, wife's results came back negative

Son: negative

Me: er, looks like they lost me

I emailed them to ask - no response.  I found a phone number online and rang.   Joshua listens to my story and bungs me a refund.  Thanks Joshua!

It's a bit worrying, of course.  I am sure they are busy, but to lose one out of three samples, apparently with nobody checking or being aware?

The International Driving Licence

 So I need to renew my international driving permit.  We were supposed to leave the EU last year so I obediently got one last October.  Unlike my proper EU driving licence, it only lasts a year.  Can you spot the problem?

So it turns out that I need a passport photo.  The machine only takes cash.  I don't have a £5 note.  

I go to buy some vitamins in Boots for £4.99

They don't have a £5 note either

I queue up for a coffee in Costa.  Hooray!  They do

I sit and drink my coffee, and scan a QR code to identify myself

So, off to the photobooth

Photo taken

It looks identical to the one from last year, but I'm not allowed to re-use that one.  

Back to the Post Office

Hand over the old licence, the new photos

Bloke looks at it.  

Still two years to go, he says!

It's a three year licence, not one year!

Argh!

Travelling to France In the Time of Covid-19

 So, first visit to France since lockdown, and it is reassuringly normal.  Cafés and restaurants are quiet, and almost everyone is wearing a mask.  Rather charmingly, the signs outside the Intermarché supermarket in the nearby town say Venez Tous Masqués - rather as if they were holding a formal masked ball...

We visit a small village where at the busiest of times we see about two people, so isolation isn't a problem.  Perhaps in Antibes there are crowds of people thronging the beaches (this is France in the summer holidays after all).  But not in La France Profonde.  It doesn't get much deeper than our village.   

The British Government, in its infinite wisdom, has decided that on our return to plague-stricken Blighty we need to quarantine ourselves for two weeks.  Frankly, that's a minor irritation - we were doing that anyway, pretty much.  

An email arrives:

You are not allowed to cross unless you have completed the online form available here  

It is important that you have the registration number provided after completion of the form with you when you arrive at our terminal in France.

Well, I fill in the form.  It isn't onerous, but it's a bit vexing that I have to do a separate form for everyone in the family, and there is no way of copying it.  I tell them to contact me by SMS as we have lousy phone reception in the UK (we live in a valley)

Do they contact me by SMS?  Of course they don't. They telephone me and leave a message on my voicemail.  However, there is no way to return their call.  They phone me three times in all, and the last time they tell me they will send an SMS.  The SMS arrives to ask me if I am self isolating. Yes, I reply, resisting the urge to apply emphatic invective.  

Two days later a police officer arrives at the back door to ask if we are self-isolating.  Rather a waste of police time, I suspect.  The copper looks at his mobile phone and sees that what a surprise, there is no signal.  

It doesn't convince me that the British government knows what it is doing.

Coronavirus Blues

So here we are, frequent tunnellers, and unable to go to France. Oh, I can understand why, and I'm not complaining.  It's just that I miss France.  We usually go over for the weekend once a month in the winter, once every 2/3 weeks in summer.  We have in theory got 10 days booked at the end of June.  It isn't looking very likely.  The trains are running, but the French would turn us away

Here's the official Eurotunnel page

You may be turned away by the French Authorities if you don't have good reason to travel within France. They have advised us that they will only allow travel for the following reasons:

• Going home to a main residence
• Essential work in France
• Medical staff

NO HOLIDAYS OR SOCIAL VISITS

They don't mention mowing the lawn, but somehow I don't think I would get away with that.  I will probably find it waist high anyway, so needing a scythe rather than a mower.  

Good news is that Eurotunnel appear to be cool about extending your tickets - we go often enough that there is little chance of hitting the year long expiry date, and you can easily rebook at no charge, which is what we shall probably have to do.  I dare say if your tickets are due to expire, they will be willing to extend.  You might have a job getting through though

Tesco vouchers too - the Tesco website says no refunds or exchanges, but that pre-dates Coronavirus.  I contacted them by online chat to ask about some cinema tickets that were due to expire - absolutely no problem at all just crediting the points back to my account.  

Only problem now is that pretty soon I am going to have to buy wine at UK prices - I haven't done that for 15 years!

A foretaste of Brexit

Coming back from France on Sunday afternoon I left the motorway at Folkestone Services to get the newspaper.  Come back out and they have closed the access to the M20!  We try to follow the diversion signs.  We go round and round the roundabouts, looking for the Black Spot - it isn't there.  
So we head west - through the B-roads of Kent by guesswork.  We pitch up in Ashford  where they are building a new junction

Apparently the motorway is closed  between junctions  9-11, closed both ways so that they can build this junction.   Well I think it is a temporary closure until 0600 on Monday morning.  A bit of a nightmare.  Kent residents might possibly be a bit miffed at having a zillion cars and lorries diverted through their villages.  Have these people never heard of the contraflow?

Brocantes

Brocante.  
Rederie
Braderie
Vide grenier
Lots of words all meaning that the village turns out and flogs off its junk. 

There is at least one brocante every Sunday morning, if you are prepared to drive.  You don't  usually have to drive far. 

Two or three weeks beforehand  a crop of little roadside signs go up.  Brocante.  Name of village.  Date.  Sometimes you have never heard of the village.   Where on earth is Yvrencheux?  Sailly-Flébeaucourt?  Vacqueriettes-Erquières?  Usually it is quite hard to make out the detail - when? where?   Occasionally the organisers are aware of this and put up three A4 signs - Brocante.  Fontaine-l'Étalon.  19 Juin.  But usually it is a single sign,  and driving by at a moderate 70kph it is impossible to read it all.  Pass by a few times and you might get it.  Or perhaps you are supposed to stop your 2CV and read it.

Assuming you find the village and get there on the right day, what will you find?  First sign is a row of cars parked up on the grass verge.  Both sides.  The French love this stuff, and frankly there isn't a lot on in rural France on a Sunday morning.  St Louis' church opens for mass maybe once every six Sundays.  There are probably no pavements so there will be families walking along the single lane between the cars.  You might as well park up somewhere half a mile away and walk in like them. 

Every house in the village, pretty much,  takes this opportunity.   They are decluttering.  You are collecting new clutter.  They put a trestle table outside the gate.  Sometimes just an old bedsheet on the ground.  Then spread out their stuff.  Grown out of kiddies clothes and toys.  Grown out of biker gear and helmets.  Scythes and similarly mediaeval agricultural implements.   Ornaments.  60s Johnny Halliday albums.  Videos, DVDs,  CDs.   Hand painted plates.  Tarnished cutlery.  Relics of ancient holidays in Morocco.   Outboard motors.  Beer glasses.  Books, many obviously never read. 

There are a few professionals here - people who are selling leather belts, sunglasses, heavy metal tee shirts - but it is mostly the neighbours.  There is a lot of strolling and chatting.  This is la France profonde.

The Ramparts of Montreuil sur Mer

It isn't Sur Mer any more, but be careful to tell your satnav it is or you will get directed to the Montreuil in Paris or even Switzerland.  

The town is on a hilltop dominating the surrounding countryside.   And at some point they have been to a lot of trouble to make their hilltop hard to attack.  The walls rise up sheer from the low lying fields. 

The ramparts surrounding the town are almost perfect.  One breach allows traffic though into the town.  There is another access road which enters through a gateway.  

And those ramparts are scary.  No namby-pamby health and safety fencing.   You are 30 metres up.  Fall off and you die.  I stay as close to the inside edge of the path as I can.  I'm not particularly scared of heights you understand.   I just prefer not to fall to my death if it's all the same to you. 

There is a complex arrangement of ditches and outlying fortresses.  I think the idea is that if an invading army breaks through the walls, they find themselves trapped in a ditch with the Montreuillois pouring boiling oil over them. 

The town is on the inside of those mediaeval wall. And for the most part it's a higgledy piggledy mediaeval town of small houses and narrow streets.  There are a couple of more modern tenements which look like barrack blocks, and certainly out of place.  A place to wander. 

Plage du Cap Blanc Nez

Plage du Cap Blanc Nez - this is the best beach in France according to Paris Match magazine.  I think their reviewer might have wanted to get away from the crowds of Paris that day.

If what you want is beach and lots of it, then it's hard to beat.  The beach here runs from Normandy to Belgium.  Over there is England and the White Cliffs of Dover.   Just behind you is Cap Blanc Nez itself.  Gris Nez is down the coast a little.  The Aire des Deux Caps national park keeps the place rural. 

If your idea of a beach involves palm trees and pieds dans l'eau restaurants then perhaps you need to look further south.  Did I mention  rhat England is about 30 miles away?  Today it's blowing from the north and if you put your pieds in the water you will be snatching them out pretty quick.   The French kids who have been playing in the surf are distinctly blue. 

You park at the top of the cliffs and walk down to the beach.  Take everything with you that you will need - there is nothing down there except for the beach and the sea.  An ice cream van might turn up in the car park come summer. 

It's a broad expanse of sand, though there will be much much less of it at high tide.   At the foot of the cliffs is a 10m wide strip of stones,  fallen from the cliffs and ground smooth twice a day by the high tides. 

Turn left for Normandy, right for Belgium.   There's a WWII bunker at the foot of the cliffs, guarding the pathway up to the top.  Walk away from the bunker and you have the beach pretty much to yourself, although perhaps in high season you may have to walk a bit further. 

Lots of footpaths at the top if walking along the beach hasn't worn you out.  Try the climb up to the top of Cap Blanc Nez and gaze out at England, as famously, Adolf Hitler did before you.  I doubt that the Führer went for a paddle though.  

The village of Escalles is the place to go for things like cafés and restaurants.   You might as well leave your car in the car park and walk back to the village.  In high season I think you might struggle to find a space.  In low season you may struggle to find somewhere open. 

Remember high tide.  If you decide to go for lunch in the village, it might be wise to take your towel with you. 

Parc du Bois de Moutiers

Varengeville sur mer looks pretty posh.  And poshest place in town is the Parc du Bois de Moutiers. Even the car park is smart.   It's a historic monument rather than a private residence these days.  

The house itself was designed by Sir Edwin Lutyens who went on to design much of the Raj and of course the Cenotaph and associated Remembrance monuments, which must make him the most built architect in the British Empire.  It isn't open to the public,  at least it wasn't today, but I think in high season they take guided tours round. 

We guided ourselves around the posh garden, designed by the famous landscape gardener Gertrude  Jekyll.  No, neither have I.   But it is a pretty good garden, with something for everyone  - walled gardens with flowers in flowerbeds at the top of the hill and around the house, a lawn running down the slope towards the sea (must be a beggar to mow), then a hillside covered in rhododendrons stolen from the Himalayas.  Plus the swamps - it must be challenging to build a swamp on the side of a hill.    We probably spent a couple of hours following the recommended route around. 

Ambience by P G Wodehouse.  One finds it easy to imagine Bertie Wooster sorting out the tangled love life of Gussie Fink-Nottle and Amber Rudd in this setting.  Lots of benches for clasping of hands and declarations of undying love.  No shagging in the bushes mind you.  Not PG's style. 

Money by Guillaume Mallet.  I've no idea who he was, and there is no information about him in the bumf we got from the ticket office.  But he's the chap who paid for it all.  Not unlike Bertie's Uncle Tom (Aunt Dahlia's husband).

Election Time

The posters are up outside every mairie.   All the candidates for the president of France.  Unusually the incumbent isn't running - perhaps M Hollande feels he has little chance and he is probably right. 

Round the Pas de Calais, Marine le Pen has posters everywhere.   It probably helps to be the only woman in the race and therefore instantly recognisable.  It probably doesn't help that two strokes of a black marker pen give her a Hitler moustache.   So her supporters have been tearing off her upper lip.   FN posters must have been either defaced or mutilated all over France. 

Le Pen has done well in softening the image of the Front Nationale.   Under her father Jean-Marie it was unashamedly racist and fascist.  She has worked hard to lock the nasty old Nazi up in a box.  Is she now electable?  Much more so than before.  She has skilfully applied make up to the pig so you can hardly tell it isn't kosher. 

The socialist candidate (what IS his name?)  is pretty much dead in the water, suffering from the unpopularity of the current government and having his support on the left eaten away by M Melenchon, the Corbyn of France.   Not to mention M Poutou, a gift to francophone political satirists. 

The right wing candidate has been caught with his fingers in the till, allegedly employing his wife and kids at public expense to do nothing whatsoever.   M Fillon was the front runner until the judge took an interest.  Now he is languishing way behind.   Too late to quit and let another man of the right have a go.  Not that he wants to.  

Which leaves Emmanuel Macron, something of an unknown quantity.  As is traditional, he has set up his own political party  En Marche!  It's broadly centrist.  And collecting support from both left and right. Hope so.  Can he beat Le Pen?

The way it works is that anyone can stand for the presidency if they can get enough mayors to nominate them.  I think 500 mayors have to sign the paperwork, which sounds like a lot but every commune in France has a mayor; that IS a lot. 

So there are something like 16 candidates standing from across the political spectrum.  On Sunday the people of France vote in the first round, and if one of them gets a majority, he or she becomes President of France.   Nobody expects this to happen. 

The expectation is that Marine Le Pen will win the first round but not an overall majority.  She and the man who has the second largest vote - and that currently looks like Emmanuel Macron  - go through to the second round in a couple of weeks time, and all the others are eliminated. 

In the next vote,  everyone shudders at the thought of President Le Pen and votes for Macron.  He wins and the Republic stays on an even keel.  But after Brexit and Trump, nobody is quite certain. 

Wifi tu me manques

Coming back from France - In the queues for check-in,  douanes and borders agency, there was no wifi within range. 

At least none I could access - I saw four strong signals for ECIS - Ecis guest, Ecis wifi, and a couple of others, all needing a password. 

 In the queue waiting to board the train, I got a signal, for the first time since October. Yay!

In the train, nothing.

What is going on?

Traffic Management Gone Bad

The terminal at Folkestone has taken to doing something odd.  They have built a maze of red and white bollards.  You go in one end and park up.  Then when it's time to go to France you follow the lanes and you double back on yourself.  And after about ten times as far, end up in the same place.
 
It used to be that when they called you to your train you headed to the passport and security checks.  So since there were several lanes of parking, several lanes of traffic had to merge into one.  It wasn't ever a problem that I could see.  

But now about 20% of the parking spaces have been taken up by traffic management bollards.  And we all have to get into a single lane and snake through the car park .  Come the spring bank holiday weekend, it is going to be chaos. 

I anticipate chaos, come the bank holiday. This is a bad idea idea M Gounon.  Ditch it

Eurotunnel wifi

Outbound it works at Folkestone terminal.  It works in the tunnel on the way to France.  But as soon as the train popped out of the tunnel in France, the signal died.

In the middle of a conversation of course. 

My wifi scanner can see no sign of Eurotunnel _customer.   Nothing.   Nearest is Cité Europe Wifi Gratuit  but that is out of range.  Not a big deal as I only have  a  few minutes to finish my conversation and head off down the A16

But on the way home. .. .

It's Sunday lunchtime in Coquelles, and no sign of a signal from Eurotunnel wifi.  My wifi scanner detects a free wifi for Flixbus, and sure enough we pass a bright green Flixbus parked up outside the passport check place.  But we are past too quickly - the terminal was the quietest I have ever seen it. 

Eurotunnel told me when I raised this before that they were very busy in the run up to Christmas and New Year.  I'm sure that's true.  But I think that some numbskull has accidentally unplugged the wifi router in France and that's why it isn't working.

Brexit - c'est le Brordel!

So here we are, heading out of Europe and taking back control.   And it is of course a total Bruckup.  

Taking back control,  as far as I can tell, means getting rid of the Poles and Spaniards who have come over to the UK because it pays better than at home.  The Borders Agency has always rigorously checked passports at the French end of Eurotunnel and has over the last twelve months or so been checking outbound as well.    And of course EU citizens from Portugal to Latvia have been allowed to come to live and work in the UK just as I am free to live in France.  Will that come to an end?  Nobody seems to know, but bad news is often true.  Then where will our hospitals and residential homes get their staff?

For the last ten years or so I have been moderator of a group of people who live in France, or are thinking about moving there.  Lots of them are American,  and unless they are lucky enough to have an Irish or Italian granny they have no right to be a resident in France.  Despite owning property,  if they want to actually live in it they have to apply for a resident's permit.

  Every year they have to present themselves  at the préfecture with all the paperwork that the French fonctionnaires require.  Every préfecture has its own rules.  Every fonctionnaire has his own rules. There are no hard and fast rules.  They are deciding whether you are a fit and proper person to live in France.  If you have forgotten to bring your wife's marriage certificate from Nevada 30 years ago to a guy she divorced 20 years ago, ten years before you met her, then you may not be a fit and proper person.   Go away and get the certificate and make another appointment to come back in a month's time when you will meet someone else who has a different idea of what documents you need...

As a Brit with a house in France, I have heard dozens of stories like this.  I have always thought how glad I am to be an EU citizen and not had the same problems as the poor bloody Americans.   But now? 

It seems that the process has already started.  A Dutch woman, living in the UK for 20 years, married  to a Brit and with two teenage children,  thought she should apply for residence just in case.  She didn't enclose her original passport, just a certified copy,  as she needed the original  to travel to the Netherlands to see her sick mother.  The Home Office told her she had no right of residence and should prepare to leave the UK.

What is the government planning?   They don't say.  Apparently the Prime minister didn't even tell the queen.   Which probably means that the government hasn't got the foggiest idea.  Here's the quandary - a small majority of the voting public chose Leave over Remain.  The previous PM campaigned to Remain and so did the new PM.  So did most, but not all conservative MPs.   Now Theresa May is trying to hold together her party without totally screwing the economy.  

The swivel eyed loons on the hard Brexit end of the spectrum want to walk away from the EU, the single market, and the European Court of human rights.   Probably from the eurovision song contest too.  Most MPs seem to want to leave without screwing up the economy - that vote to leave shows them what their constituents wañt.   Some want to stay - honorable mention to Kenneth Clarke and Anna Soubry who not only want to stay but are willingto stand up and say so.

But increasingly it is becoming clear that we are sailing towards the rocks.  The economy depends on trading.  It is easier and cheaper to trade with our neighbours than to sell to someone on the far side of the world.  Walk away from a tariff free trading zone and into a nightmare of different tariffs and regulations?  Which need to be translated into English from the original Hindi? No thanks. 

The leader of the Labour party seems to think that Brexit will benefit the millionaire bankers who screwed up the economy last time.  I don't see how.  Sure, they might have to move to Stuttgart but that's no great hardship to them. They will get their Porsches cheaper.

UKIP, swivel eyed loons though they uniformly are, at least know what they want.  Labour and Conservative want to go along with the majority of the voting, mad as it is.  Only the SNP and the rump of the Lib Dems  are against Brexit.   Big kudos to the latter for overturning a 20,000 conservative majority in Richmond upon Thames, but they are unlikely to win a majority in Parliament any time soon.  

Is there hope?  Perhaps there is.   Teresa May has appointed the three leading Brexiteers to run Brexit.  At some point they have to deliver Brexit.  If what they deliver is very obviously a  pile of poo, can the rest of the cabinet go along with it?  Can the House of Commons go along with it ? Can the British public go along with it?

Brexit seems likely to happen in 2019, and in May 2020 we are due to have a general election.   If Brexit means Bruckup and ruins the British economy,  the Conservatives would have to fight an election on that track record.  Faced with the prospect of Prime Minister Corbyn,  I hope that the Conservatives will prefer to blame Boris, Liam and David and assign it to a Whitehall committee for further study.   Which puts it off until the next election or the one after that, until the whole damn thing can be quietly forgotten.   The hardcore Brexit nutters won't like that, but better to annoy the nutters than to ruin the country.  

*Brexit means Bruckup

Fog in France

It's a bit foggy

Well it's a lot foggy actually

And it's freezing fog. 

The A16 autoroute was fine until we got past Boulogne.   Then the mist turned to fog and I slowed to 90kph.  

Then we came off the motorway and onto the dual carriageway.   A car passed me doing maybe 100.  That was the last vehicle I saw.  He faded into the distance. 

Turn off the main road and I'm down to 45/50 kph.   This is now a winding country road, up and down hill as we cross the valleys which bisect the hills of northern France. 

And at last I turn into our lane.  We open the gate and I reverse in.  The gravel path has a fine sheen of ice on it - I've never experienced slippery gravel before. 

I manage to bring in the luggage without falling.  The heating is on.  I open the beer.  It's good to be back. 

It's Quiet. Too Quiet

There is nobody about.  I've never seen the Folkestone terminal so empty.  It's late on Friday night to be sure but even so.  It's half term as well. 

But of course it has been half term all week.  So people probably went to France last weekend and have been spending the past week enjoying the autumn sunshine, picking apples and walnuts,  that sort of thing.

Which means...

Which means that on Sunday they will all be coming back to Blighty.

Oh dear

So there I am on Sunday morning heading up the A16 towards my scheduled lunchtime crossing.   And pretty much every car in the autoroute is British.   But Eurotunnel has it under control.   Somebody must have told them that it's the end of the bank holiday.   The douaniers and the Borders Agency have turned out and we get through pretty smoothly.  Even the roadworks (they are building something on the way to the train queue) scarcely held us up.

Passports

The French have taken to checking the passports of people crossing the Channel from the UK.  They never used to.  It might be Brexit, but I think it follows from the terrorist attacks of the last couple of years.  And who can blame them for checking?

So it's late on Friday night and they are checking one lane.  Thoroughly.   The queue is back to the terminal.    At last they open another lane.  It's moving swiftly.   Very swiftly.   I pull out of the first lane and into the second, passports in hand. 

There is nobody in the booth. 

Sod's Law In Operation

We set off in good time.   In fact, we set off well before we usually do.   There were no delays on the M25.   We got to the Folkestone terminal early.  It wasn't busy.  Great!

But sadly, the trains weren't running. 

Eurotunnel had sent me a text to expect a delay of an hour or so, because of a "technical fault".  I had a chat with the lady at the barrier who had been on duty since 9am (it was now 2200) and was obviously totally worn out.  Seems everything had gone wrong.  A couple of breakdowns in the morning and then they never managed to catch up and get back to normal.  Luckily it was not a bank holiday.  

I got talking  to a  group of Sikh lads who were off to a wedding in Bordeaux.  One driver and three pissheads, tucking into a case of Jack Daniels and coke.  Hope it went well lads!

Fun and Games on the Motorway

Some donkey drove his lorry into the supporting pillars of a footbridge on the M20 near Maidstone.   Astonishingly nobody was killed when it collapsed, not even the poor bloody biker who was riding under the bridge at the time.  But the whole south east of England was thoroughly screwed for the next 24 hours.  Including me. 

Last time there was a bit of trouble on the motorway I had little or no advance warning.  This time there were warnings as far back as Swindon.   So a big improvement, although not everyone got the message.  There were still lots of people bombing along the M25 apparently unaware that the M26 was closed ahead. 

Then there was a horrible queue to get from the M25 to the M2.   Only one lane allowed.  So a tailback for miles.  Although there were four lanes at the roundabout, the others were allocated to local traffic.  Not joined up thinking. 

Signs did divert you off to the M2 but assumed you were going to Dover.  Not so, Highways Agency!  At some point I wanted to go back to the M20 and off to the tunnel.  Were you able to get me this information?   Were you heck as like.  But I did find the right turn by good luck and made it to Folkestone two hours late.  

Eurotunnel to their credit told me I was late and put me straight onto the next crossing.

Welcome to Rip Off Britain

12 quid for a 320g box of shortbread in duty free.  Blimey!

Looks like Eurotunnel are trying to separate the French schoolkids from their leftover pounds.  They have a chance to buy presents for mum that they could have got for £2 in Tesco.  

Folkestone terminal was squalid on Friday night.  Every table was loaded with empty glasses or rubble from burger king.  They were closing and obviously not very interested in clearing the tables.  Maybe SOJ?  Someone else's job

So rip em off and show them the nasty side uf Britain.   That'll bring the tourists back I'm sure.