Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
before driving onto the train. The UK process is standard and fairly consistent: passports,
technical confirmation that the vehicle is not LPG powered, and random vehicle searches.
This is also the place where any firearms have to be declared and the relevant stack of
papers handed over. Sometimes the latter causes a bit of confusion. We've found that it's
easier to declare that we are carrying firearms (if indeed we are ) at the reception point in or-
der to be directed to the appropriate lane where the firearms officers will check everything
over.
A hundred yards further on one enters the French version of customs/passport control,
which we could never describe as being consistent. The first challenge is to determine
whether there is anyone behind the window of la Douane Française . The sliding window
portal has tinted glass and if it is closed (as is often the case due to the micro-climate hur-
ricane that is a regular feature of the Eurotunnel compound) it is very difficult to see inside.
Energetic waving of passports will sometimes provoke a response. In our case this has
mostly resulted in the appearance of a disdainfully oscillating hand, presumably attached to
a body. It seems to be a French semaphore signal for “please to move on and to stop waving
at me so I can finish this disgusting English coffee and the flat thing you call toast.”
Occasionally we hear of people getting the VIP treatment.
“Where are you travelling to? What is the purpose of your journey? Will you be stay-
ing in France for long? Are you carrying more than 7,600 euros?”
But this seems to be rare and on most occasions there is no response at all from the
booth, as was the case when we arrived this time. When we drew up there didn't seem to be
a soul about. Jack brandished our passports and inched the car forward sufficiently slowly
so that any officier of the Douane Judiciaire who might materialise from the interior, had
time to attract our attention peacefully, rather than opening fire. Luckily we passed through
unscathed.
Folkestone's Eurotunnel complex is logically laid out but in spite of this we had the
usual fun avoiding travellers who develop a kind of 'lane-blindness'. These motorists often
start heading off in the wrong direction and instantly become the butt of much scorn and
criticism from the rest of the population. A mad panic then ensues as they start reversing
towards the car behind in an attempt to rectify their mistake.
This causes much horn-hooting (good practice for driving in France) and general ex-
citement. But it is something the Eurotunnel personnel are very used to as they benignly
re-direct the offending vehicle to the correct place. Jack has a theory that these drivers must
be actors, engaged by Eurotunnel to impart a sense of world-class customer care and well-
being to their other 'not lost' and therefore highly intelligent, customers. It's because acci-
dentally taking the wrong turning is almost impossible.
After negotiating our way through the various booths and customs and with a wavy
paw still cemented to the windscreen, we were finally on the train. Having already endured
a number of misadventures we were happy to have this thirty-five minute break as the train
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