Day 1.... Saturday, 23 Oct. 2010.....
Despite gloomy reports via the Right wing press in UK., on the the revolting students in Paris and the effects that their actions were having on the travelling public from UK and elsewhere, our long awaited parish trip to the French Capital got off to an early start from Newcastle's Central Station last Saturday.
All 49 of us clambered aboard the East Coast train which had conveniently arrived fresh from the engine sheds at Heaton, 20 minutes ahead of schedule. This early arrival gave us more than enough time to get ourselves, plus our luggage into the pre-booked carriage and it wasn't long before we settled down in our reserved seats. Promptly at 0730, the train slid smoothly out of the station and over the King Edward VII Bridge to begin the 270 mile run South to London. Reaching its maximum speed of 125mph as we flashed through Co. Durham, the ride was as smooth as butter with just an occasional lateral sway as we rounded a curve.
Helen & Dorothy, London bound.
Things have improved immensely over the 35 years since my journeys to and from the capital and beyond on Army leave, most of which were jolting, halting, long drawn out experiences.
The advent of the wheeled suitcase has brought relief to many a weary traveller, and it was with the noise of many hundreds of small plastic wheels on the smooth concrete of the long King's Cross station platform that we made our way next door to St. Pancras station, there to split up into little groups to await check-in for the next part of our journey, Eurostar. The concourse was crowded and the armed police patrols were quite evident, a regretful but necessary sign of the times. After a wander around I spotted 3 of our group getting into the Continental mood by sipping large G&Ts outside a concourse pub. I got a large glass of a very acceptable Rioja and joined them, just to make sure that they didn't get left behind, you understand!
Dorothy, Helen, and Marjorie
Jean, Roland, Ann, and Terry
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Katherine, Florence, Dorothy and Ken.
Pat, Jane, and Margaret, all awaiting the call!
We passed through the security screen displaying varying degrees of panic.. "Will my replacement kneecaps set off the alarms yet again?" and "Did that nice lady have to place that detector wand as far up as that? Eventually we settled down to wait for the call from above ( No, not THAT call, Father R,) the one which told us that the Eurostar was awaiting us.
Above us the quarter mile length of train was indeed raring to go and the more muscular types set to work, heaving the luggage into its quite capacious racks. We were all together again and it wasn't long till the air was filled with spicy aromas as the hungry travellers broke out their 'take away' lunches from Marks and Spencers.
Spot on the dot of 13:04 the trained eased out of the Station and once again with an uncanny smoothness set out on a Northerly heading across the unlovely graffiti covered environs of North London at rooftop level. These were quickly blotted out as the train glided into the long looping section which takes it South East below the Thames and out into the driving rain of South London. With large chunks of Kentish scenery hurtling backwards every second we were soon crossing the river Medway and scant minutes later we dived headlong into the Channel Tunnel itself. Emerging the other side to more grey skies and soggy fields, prompted the thoughts that twice, just out of living memories, our fathers and grandfathers fought one of our European neighbours, Germany, over possession of these lush green fields.
Our tour guide Bernadette (who hails from Heaton , Newcastle) had introduced herself as we left London and now came around the group with essential information on negotiating our way out of the Gare Du Nord and into the tour coach. This was accomplished in very short order and then we were off into the sheer lunacy that passes for everyday driving in France.
When I was "nobbut a lad' many years ago, I learned in our Physics lessons that some clever clogs of long forgotten name gave that name to a Law of Physics which stated that " no two bodies shall occupy the same space at the same time" This Law evidently does not apply in France and especially on its Capital's roads. 'Survival of the fittest' would seem to sum up the mayhem, with "Devil take the hindmost" as a good second choice. At one light controlled crossroads we were held back by the red light as was the traffic in the road from our right. A car passed us on our left, went straight through the red light and stopped right in front of the two lanes of traffic. He then forced his way past the first row of cars, on to the pavement and then abandoned his vehicle right in the middle of a pedestrian refuge.
Paris' traffic in the rain.
The tour coach finally deposited us and our luggage outside the Hotel Alesia and Bernadette was soon distributing room key cards and dispatching us aloft in groups of four to the floors above via the three lifts in Reception. A quick 'demo' by Bernadette on the operating system of these lifts showed up the technophobes and technophiles amongst the group, as we grappled with the electronic vagaries of the key card operated lifts. Noticeable amongst us was the way the younger ones mastered the system a lot faster than the majority of the more mature. Alexandra and brother Dominic popped the card into slot, selected their floor and disappeared upwards triumphantly, leaving their grandparents, and we of similar age, still wondering if we could trust this new fangled method!
To be continued..........
