Calais to England.....or bust.

Dull, colourless and devoid of any significant cultural influence. No, I'm not describing the last James Blunt CD.....but the city of Calais. I know - I shouldn't be so judgemental. Afterall, anyone basing their opinion of Australia on a day trip to Engadine would not be very complimentary either (I think I may have offended two, maybe three seperate demographics in one paragraph).

The highlight of my trip was the return leg of the Euro Tunnel train when all the toilets, except one right at the back of the train, broke. I'd been frantically searching each carraige for the facilities, when I spotted an official looking chap in a yellow reflector vest walking quickly towards me.

'Are there any toilets working on the train?', I asked him.
'They're all broken this end of the train - there might be one down the back', he replied.

I followed him through the electric doors. After four carraiges we'd picked up an entourage and by the time we got to the last carraige we'd formed a pack of about a dozen desperate passengers in need of relief.

'Don't worry, we're nearly there', said our leader. He seemed to know his way around and we were grateful for his direction. At last we found what we were looking for - a toilet in full working order. I was right behind him when we reached the door and I was expecting him to move aside and let me in, but he just strode into the toilet and locked the door behind him.

Turns out he didn't work for Euro Tunnel. He was a bike rider....I hadn't noticed the helmet he was carrying....I thought he looked a little nervous with all of us following him.