Canterbury Cathedral Crime Scene

'Who will rid me of this miserable priest?' roared Henry II after every move he'd tried to make to gain more power was thwarted by Thomas à Becket.  Four of Henry's henchmen stormed into the cathedral, hunted down the archbishop, and stabbed him to death.  Nobody needed to dust for fingerprints, no one needed to test for DNA, the deed was done almost in the open, and the perpetrators thought everyone who witnessed it would be too frightened to step forward.  They were wrong.  I have to smile, though, about how the history books portray a sorrowful Henry doing pilgrimage and hurting himself for the crime he instigated.  It's easy to say sorry when one has already accomplished one's objective.  No apology or penance was going to resurrect the bishop anytime soon or in the future.  Which is only one of the various reasons I stopped subscribing to such beliefs.

Today, after two days of work-related driving, I took off the courier's hat and turned tourist.  The last time I'd been here was in 1997, a full 25 years ago, down to the exact month.  The Eurostar passenger line was practically brand-new and I was keen to try it out.  Details of that trip have become vague through the years, except for two things -- this cathedral, and the grey, wet, cold weather.  Oh, and one more thing -- I didn't have a proper camera at the time, so only took a few shots, most of which turned out to be so vague I didn't even bother to keep the negatives.

The day began really well.  After the much-needed 9 or so hours of sleep, I got up refreshed, and the first thing I did was post the shot of two days ago.  That took a bit of time.  After that, it was time to check out.  Packed everything and put it in the car, then went back for breakfast, and now I made sure I ate a very, very heavy breakfast, enough to last the rest of the day and evening, till I got home.  Eurostar restaurant food is absolutely not to be recommended (by me, anyway).  I sat at the table for an hour, and then walked to town.  The hotel allowed me to keep my car in their parking lot, thankfully.  Spent a couple of hours walking around (now I am glad I never have to consider taking a day trip here for Xmas shopping), bought some butterbeer chewies for AW, but the bulk of the time was spent inside Canterbury Cathedral.  It is such a historic place, ancient and full of atmosphere.  I viewed the exhibit and explored every nook and cranny.  Who knows but it might take another 25 years before I come back, if at all.

Back to the hotel for a last cup of tea and last use of the WiFi, and then into the car and off in the direction of Dover.  The train was scheduled to depart at 16.20, but I thought of trying to catch an earlier train, if that had been possible.  At one point I took a wrong exit on a roundabout and ended up viewing Dover Castle from the road.  Something for another time.  Turned back and found the right exit this time, and continued along the coast.  If I am ever in the area again, three days in Dover would be a good idea.  Eventually, the A20 turned into the M20 and I found myself at Folkestone in plenty of time.

Not only that, but the two immigration stops went by like a breeze.  It looked like I couldn't catch the 15.20 train because the queue was long, but I would certainly not miss the 16.20.  To my surprise, though, after the 15.20 had left, they signalled us to continue forward.  The next train was already boarding.  We left at 15.50, a full half hour earlier.  There was a train to spare!  AW and Gubs updated, of course.  Arrived at 17.20 EU time in Calais.  It took a mere 3.5 hours to drive straight home.

What an adventure that was!  I could do it again tomorrow!

In the meantime, tired eyes, two slightly aching arms, and a hint of inclination to drive on the left.  AW was awfully happy to see me, and I him, and Gubs's business will wait for another day.

(You might have missed the previous post, in case you're wondering about some gaps in the tale.)