A Day Getting to London - in a Bubble Wrapped Bus

A thousand taxis in Paris. An assurance from Madam that taxis could be hailed anywhere. An hour up our sleeve to get six kilometres. Bus booked for 10. You would think it would be a breeze.

The first five taxis refused to take us. The next few told us to wait at the rank while they waited fareless at the other rank. Too late to get the train. We are committed. Frustrated businessmen paced in amazement and rang their secretaries.

Paris would not let us go. Finally a really nice taxi driver picked us up, but to get to the station - 'impossible' with a charming French accent and huge grin on his face. He tried. We missed the bus.

The next bus left more than three hours later.  OK.

We were on. Surly driver refused to direct or help any of the passengers. No water for the eight hour trip. No in flight televisions, no air conditioning, no windows that could open, no food, no stops. One toi toi.

We reached the coast and went through passport control (French) then passport control (British) then drove into a container and were shut in - front and back and closed off to the world. We had been shrink wrapped for the crossing beneath the channel. Shut in a bus, locked on a metal case, under the water.

The train took us to English soil and we made it to London. Blessed English soil. Fresh air and off to the Youth Hostel. The new accommodation for the middle aged.

Our big bus.

The French Countryside

Inside the bus, in the metal case.

(This is the wall outside my bus window) ....very close.... I did sneak outside - claustrophobia getting the better of me.

Our first sight of England

Our green shoe box.