Well, I’m sitting here on the Eurostar, about to enter the tunnel on the way to Lille. The experience is a little underwhelming, partly because it’s dark outside, so, coupled with a lit carriage, it’s impossible to see the landscape speeding by, and at this stage I’ve been travelling non-stop for about 39 hours with only a fitful four hours of sleep within that period. I’m trying to keep myself awake!

The trip was relatively plain sailing: Sydney – Melbourne – Hong Kong – London. We’d lost some time between Melbourne and Hong Kong, but we’d made it up by the time we were over France, only to have air traffic control in London tell us to do a pointless loop to kill time. It just so happened that we were almost over Lille, my final destination, when the instruction came through. If I’d had a parachute I could have cut about 10 hours off my journey.

Landed in Heathrow, now 40 mins late, only to find out that the bay we’d been given still had a plane in it. Had to wait a further 30 mins out on the tarmac until they got their shit together. Not what I wanted after a 13 hour flight. London decided to lay on the charm by pissing rain while we were sitting there. Finally got off the plane, waited for my baggage and jumped on the Heathrow Express to Paddington. That ran like clockwork, so my worries about missing the Eurostar were unfounded.

Dumped my snowboard stuff in the left luggage office so I didn’t have to lug it around for the next few days then jumped on the tube to Waterloo only to find that there was a delay because there was a problem on the track behind us??? Who gives a shit – we’re not going in reverse! Couldn’t figure that one out. Had two hours to kill so picked up my ticket and then just loitered around the terminal watching the world go by.

No insightful observations; I’d just forgotten how busy London is, with non-stop heavy foot traffic between 3 and 6, and for an hour or two after that as well I’m sure. One thing that did strike me is how much more dull and drab London is than Sydney. It’s like a painter took the palette used for Sydney and dunked it in muddy brown water before going to work on London. I love the fact that there’s so much history around every corner, and the historical architecture is a big plus over Sydney, but I’d probably end up depressed if I lived here for a significant period of time. Dublin has a similar problem, though on a smaller scale.

Anyway, I’ve just made my first trip through the Chunnel in complete darkness and am now in France. I meet a heavily pregnant Kate in 25 mins plus partner Sebastien, and am looking forward to a good coffee, a shower and bed. I will undoubtedly be useless company until tomorrow. Bloody exhausted.