Stepping off the boat at Harwich is like going into a public lavatory. You are met with an overwhelming smell of some carbolic type disinfectant. As if there aren't any pleasant-smelling disinfectants available these days. Then you come face to face with the hatchet-faced passport checkers, sitting at a high desk, which makes you feel you are being taken into custody, which is not far from the truth.
Then you go to catch your train and find it has just gone and there isn't another one for an hour, such is the perfection of the timing. So you wait in the ferry terminal, which is getting a bit shabby these days.
Eventually the train comes. There is nowhere to put luggage where it will not be in somebody's way.
It's great to be back on the island.
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About Me
- Physiocrat
- A heterodox view on politics, transport and the environment, from the perspective of an orthodox and questioning Catholic who worked mostly within the fields of town planning and design.
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