As so often when we’re about to travel we both slept rather badly, so were good and ready to be rather grumpy. So, when, at 08:20, our taxi (booked for 08:10) had not turned up, we were getting distinctly scratchy. Martyn had booked on line, and had a printed confirmation on his desk. When he rang to enquire, they said they had no record of the booking, and had nothing available for us. So nothing else for it: we’d to schlepp our bags crossly down to the bus stop. The bus only just got us to our second choice train to London. We’d to change to a very crowded Thameslink train (complete with the usual implacable, loudly complaining sprog, who mercifully got off at Blackfriars) to a very crowded St Pancras. For the first time in decades, our passports were stamped by French border personnel at St Pancras. As I write this paragraph, I’m hoping the worst part of the journey is over: we are comfortably installed in the Eurostar to Brussels. I shall relax when we’re on the next train to Cologne: we have a tightish connexion in Brussels.
Later: we arrived in Brussels on time after a pleasant Eurostar ride, including a complimentary snack lunch, a glass of rosé and a cup of tea. The change to the German high speed train was quick and easy, and the ride reasonably comfortable if rather noisy. It was the first time I’d used the Belgian high speed line east of Brussels. Our hotel in Cologne is expensive for what it offers, but it’s a short walk from the station. Aperitifs in a popular bar nearby, then supper - excellent Schnitzel - at the noisy but welcoming Gaffel am Dom. Early night!
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