13-Dec-24 Bordeaux, France

Taxi from ROSL club to St Pancras takes 15mins. Rather than the 50mins yesterday. Marvellous. Eurostar to Paris. Alarmed by the hour/two hour long queues for Eurostar on previous trips have gone all in for Business Premier. Dedicated check in, security, passport control. Oh. And a nice calm lounge to lounge in whilst waiting. With free food and drink.

Bags X-rayed. Passport checked by UK. Easy peasy. Present self to French passport control. African French woman with attitude. You know the sort. Huffing and puffing. Clearly not enjoying her tedious life. Takes passport. Scans it. On her little scanner thingy. Huff. Not scanning. Cleans the glass. Cleans passport ID page. More huff. Passport does not scan. After eight times on her scanner she tries her colleague’s scanner. Nope.

Problem? I ask.

Your passport isn’t working.

Gulp.

Oh ‘eck.

That’s all I need.

It’s over before it starts.

Ten minutes of standing there like a lemon. It’s tried again. And again.

Followed, eventually, by some tapping on her keyboard.

Data entry. Manually.

And then.

Her hand moves to the stamp.

And then.

Clunk.

Passport has that all important entry stamp to the EU Schengen Area.

Phew.

That all important first, second and third brew in lounge with a fresh croissant soon sets the mood for a bit of joie de vivre.

France here we come.

Eurostar whizzes through the Kent countryside and soon travelling through the tunnel for 30mins to emerge into the French countryside.

More champagne sir?

Oh go on then.

And relax.

All rather pleasant travelling at high speed with champagne, an excellent lunch washed down with a glass (or two) of red.

Arrive Gare du Nord. Taxi to Gare Montparnasse. Assuming that there could be delays had booked the 1604hrs TGV to Bordeaux. But. As on time. I can change my booking to the 1504hrs train. Using the SNCF train app.

But.

I need the booking ref of the original ticket. Sod’s Law but I can’t get this from the app as the ticket has disappeared for some inexplicable reason.

But.

Not a problem.

Being the sort of well seasoned traveller who is experienced enough to know that it’s always worth carrying a paper copy of tickets. Just in case phone/wifi signal goes down. As it always does when you need it most.

I have a paper copy in my bag.

But.

Gare Montparnasse is rammed full of people.

With nowhere really to open a bag. In private.

Finally find a semi clean spot to set down bag on seat. Away from the oiks. And the unwashed. Away from potential threats. You know what I mean.

Ticket retrieved. App updated. Booking changed to 1504hrs. Easy peasy.

Having spent many years living in Germany it is a delight to board a train there. All platforms are open access. There’s no mucking about queuing at barriers. Just turn up and wait on platform.

France isn’t like that.

No. There’s a ticket barrier. For about a thousand people to get through in a short space of time. And an X-ray scanner. To cram on to a narrow dark platform. Jostling for position.

Horrendous. Most uncivilised.

Finally settle into the top deck of the TGV and soon whizzing through France at 180mph.

To Bordeaux. About 360 miles away. In 2hrs 10mins.

Arriving Bordeaux greeted by armed soldiers on the platform. On patrol. Welcome to France. This won’t be the last time I see I see armed patrols on the streets. But you’ll have to wait for that blog.

Check in to Hotel Burdigala (https://www.burdigala.com/en/) for a few nights. They recommend Restaurant Influences up the road for dinner. The sort of place where they say ‘Trust us…we’ll feed you…but we’ll surprise you.’ No menu. Get what you given. Oh yes. My sort of place. Five courses later…butternut squash risotto and green bean amuse bouche, onion and comte cheese with honey and onion sauce, Brittany scallops with caviar and white chocolate sauce, squid stuffed with haddock and pak choi leaf with a lettuce sauce, wild boar and beetroot with a coffee wafer. Followed by a selection of cheeses: blue cheese, beer soaked cheese, herb crusted cheese; and a chocolate mousse and sorbet. With obligatory wines.

So you can perhaps imagine how relaxed I am after a long day of travel.  You can perhaps imagine how much I am looking forward to getting into bed for a good night’s sleep. After a nice hot shower.

Yeah.

Having just literally got out of shower. I’m in that fleeting moment of stark whatsit. The nanosecond before putting towel around me. You can perhaps imagine the ‘Oh FFS’ moment when the sodding fire alarm goes off just before midnight.

Yeah.

Great.

What is it with me and hotel fire alarms. I’m not kidding. It’s nearly every flipping trip.

So.

Decisions have to be made.

Do I.

A. Rush to get out. To avoid being burnt alive.

B. Consider it a false alarm. Finish drying myself. Get into PJs. Go to bed.

Well.

I started with B.

But.

False alarms tend to switch off after a minute. Two at most.

Five minutes later. Decide A might be the better option as it’s clearly not a false alarm.

So. Put jeans and jumper on over PJs. Gather belongings. And walk down three flights of stairs with bag in tow.

To emerge from the fire escape in the hotel bar.

To discover people sitting there nonchalantly. Still drinking. All relaxed. And chilled.

Hmmm.

Walk over to reception.

To be told it’s a false alarm…