By Veronica


Marathon, day 2. My train wasn't till lunchtime, so I took another stroll around town. Passing through the station, I noted that all the TGVs were still flagged with delays of over an hour, but the SNCF insisted all would be fine by lunchtime. 

No point in worrying about it; after a quick point and shoot at the Maison Carrée, I chose a cafe for coffee and a croissant. While there, fellow choir committee member C phoned to discuss the latest crisis. Did I mention that at our committee meeting on Sunday, after the rehearsal, our president, who was only elected six months ago, resigned with immediate effect and stomped out, after being accused of some bizarre conspiracy by the secretary? This was followed by a lot of shouting. It made me feel quite ill: I stomped out too, not only because I was late for my book group. Does running a choir have to be so difficult? Anyway the good news was that C reckoned H could be convinced to un-resign by dint of the secretary resigning, to popular acclaim. (Spoiler: I phoned him later and he did). So now we don't have a secretary, but it could be worse.

My train was only 10 minutes late. I had taken the precaution of allowing over an hour in Lille before the Eurostar left, so that was fine. It was 10 minutes late too. At St Pancras I had just time to slog along the platform from the wrong end of the loooong train, get my ticket from a machine, and dash back along the concourse, getting on the Nottingham train with 2 minutes to spare. And my sister texted me to say she'd pick me up at the station, so it was very efficient. Sitting down to a cup of tea by 9:30.

Edit: compare with this day last year for a different kind of architecture!

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