We started off our journey by travelling down to Dover to catch the ferry across the channel. By the 15th of July we were beginning our travels looking out across the ocean to the white cliffs; standing out like jagged crystals, shimmering along with the reflective rhythm of the tide.
By this point we had already stopped off outside Birmingham and then moved on to Canterbury.
Petit Fort Philippe was our first stop in France, not far from Dunkirk(which we visited later on
). It was hard to believe this was the same ocean which stretched the south coast of England and my brother soon made himself at home in the water(he also hacked the monkey bars). Apart from the jellyfish that seemed to mimic the sun’s rays within the water, it was a perfect first stop.
It wasn’t long before TUT decided it was obligatory to fix the air con for our motorhome; even though he had had one year to fix these sort of things. So for the next three days he dragged us around different garages sorting out the problem -me being his translator-. The men in the garages seemed pleased that they could easily communicate with one of us and I laughed along with them whilst TUT pretended to understand what was going on.
One of them even got comfortable enough to tell me what he thought of the southerners in France -after I told him that’s where I used to live- and we joked as it is the same in England. In the end all was well and it turned out the pipes TUT had been told we needed in England to complete the job weren’t needed after all. Not every trip can start off perfectly after all! But these are the things that make it what it is.