Home please...

We, along with several thousand other rugby fans, are heading out from Marseille. There's a small protest at Saint-Charles station - about what, we know not. The station concourse is heaving, but soon enough we're set up in our carriage for our 5 hour journey to Lille. I find the rhythm of high-speed rail to be incredibly soothing. I can stare with glazed eyes as the countryside rushes past for hours at a time. I use the time to reflect on our trip. I'm not devastated to be leaving Marseille specifically, and France generally. Both of us have been a little thrown by French attitudes towards English travellers over the past few days - so much so that it's taken the gloss off of our travelling experience. I don't know if it's a post-Brexit thing, or perhaps a heightened tension around the World Cup. Either way, it doesn't make us want to return any time soon.

What feels like very quickly, we're arriving into Lille ready for our Eurostar connection back to London. I'll always love the experience of travelling through the Channel Tunnel. I remember so vividly its initiation, construction and opening during my childhood, and it remains an engineering marvel to me to this day.

Arriving back into Brighton, we're delighted to see our two boys - neither of whom seems overly impressed that we're home. Gizmo, it appears, has been in the wars, with a few noticeable scabs on his ear. The photos of them are not mine, but rather are Kristine's - our wonder lady who looks after them while we're away....Weiterlesen