We got off the ferry at Dover with a crowd of Belgians, French and Germans. The lorries were from further East, Poland, Czech republic or Latvia, but the cars and motorcycles were mostly from Western Europe. We had driven two thousand miles in France and had occasionally suffered from congestion; in total we had been delayed by perhaps twenty minutes. We set off on what should have been a four hour drive. By the time we had been driving for an hour, the predicted journey time had increased to five and a half hours.
We decided to stop at one of the UK’s motorway service areas. French travellers should note that service areas are not as frequent in the UK as they are in France, and in order to ensure that drivers get back into their cars and join the traffic jam on the motorway as quickly as possible you will be fined £60 if you stay for more than two hours. It is perhaps better not to order a three course meal and then hope to enjoy a leisurely cup of coffee afterwards.
This particular service area consisted of a tin warehouse with no less than five fast food outlets. There was no-one serving what one could describe as a meal. You could have sandwiches, burgers or bits of chicken in batter. There were no fresh salads or Boeuf Bourguignon and no drinking-water fountains. I opted for a jacket potato as the healthiest option I could find and had it served in a cardboard tray. I didn’t have to eat it with my fingers, I was supplied with a plastic knife and fork which broke.
Before long I was back on the crowded motorway. By now it was apparent that the M6 was closed and there were traffic jams on the M1, M25 and M40. Our journey took six and a half hours. Still, that was better than a previous visit when there were four motorways closed and the journey took seven hours.
We Brits certainly know how to live. No wonder these all these foreigners are trying to get into the UK.