Sometimes travel days are as painful as wandering days. All the trudging is not euphoric what with the backback of 15# and rolling suitcase of 35#. All the hiking to & thru train stations, six flights of stairs to get on the ferry and then a couple miles to the bus to Folkestone (the town where the Chunnel debarks).
I met a woman from Folkestone on the way to the train and as we walked and talked, she redirected me to the bus. Much better but I can’t recall her name. Thanks though.
Once at my hotel, the Grand Burstin, I took a long soak and then went for a couple pints at the Royal George, a nice pub close at hand where the crac was good.
The Grand Burstin looks like a cruiseship. An old, stately property in need of some tender loving care but overall a place I would not hesitate to stay at again. Inexpensive , clean and convenient. All I really need.
Right on the waterfront with a grand buffet English breakfast that held me thru dinner. The day started overcast but as I had shopping to do like find a replacement outlet converter, the Royal Mail office to exchange money, chemist to find pain relief, a UK sim for my phone etc. I went for a walk along the coast to Leas where I found a nice park and then back into Folkestone Center. A classic English seaside town trying to recapture a bit of it’s former glory. I use the word ” glory” accurately as down the Road of Remembrance, 5,000,000 American, Canadian & British troops debarked for France in WWI.
The west side of town the beach is all peastone whilst the east is more clay/sand.
On the top of the center building someone’s idea of a joke.
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