Day 31 - Back to Blighty

403 miles to Calais, the GPS indicated and if I followed it's instructions I would be there at 415pm way ahead of schedule for the 2020 Eurotunnel train. Easy. So I rode as far as the Luxembourg border as good a gold and did what it said. Then boredom with motorways overtook me and I fancied something French for lunch. I turned left and headed south a bit. A nice salad maybe with a little glass of red to wash it down. My experience of riding in France up till now is that every french citizen downs tools at 1pm sharp and heads straight for the cafe for a good lunch. Trouble with the Luxembourg border area is that I think the Luxemburgers have silently invaded and don't do the french lunch thing. Not a scrap of food to be had anywhere. I continued north west on the little lanes and eventually crossed the Belgian border and same story, except for the Friteries every 10 km. They live on chips, it seems. The other thing they are famous for is (apart from Moules Frites and a small statue of a pissing boy) is some seriously ripped cows.



Everything was going grand till I realised I had squandered my 4 hour buffer so I had to make tracks. I was at the head of a queue of traffic with a boy racer behind me when the lights changed to red. I dropped anchor, he floored it and screamed past my left, through the red light and right past the nose of a police car. Ha ha! Cue blue lights, siren and a chase. I passed them a couple of Km down the road showing lots of paperwork. Dangerous plonkers. Then, like clockwork, about 90km from Calais, the inevitable rain came. I think I have seen rain of some sort nearly every day this trip. This must be some sort of record.


I now absolutely stink. Things have not really dried out for a week and I am beginning to rot. Luckily there is a washing machine at the end of this and I may have to climb into it myself. I am visiting my aunt just the other side of the channel this evening and have warned her of the impending odour. In Prague, Pat said there was a bit of a whiff. You know it is bad when a male friend points it out. Made the Eurotunnel with 15 mins to spare, just like the first day.