Home Sweet Home

A few weeks ago Nigel, Pascoe and I were on a long-planned jolly to Lille when France suddenly shut down.  It felt like being inside a trap and hearing the mechanism clicking into place.

Everything was lovely on Friday, including the weather so we went to stroll in the grounds of the Vauban Citadel.  We would visit the massive art museum on Saturday.  But on Saturday, it (along with all museums) was declared shut. 

We began to feel uneasy. We would come home early.  But Eurostar had picked that weekend to renew its computerised ticketing system.  We could not change our tickets, not online, not on the phone, not even in person. 

We would just have to make the best of it. 

We lounged in cafes having a truly relaxed lunch and dinner.

But on Sunday, everything that wasn’t a food shop or pharmacy shut.  The fun really was over.

Our train was not until three - a whole day to kill.

We hiked to the legendary market at Wazemmes and marveled at the beautiful fruit and veg piled high.  However, we could not relax as there were so many people it felt like the Covid 19 version of Russian Roulette.

Even departure was challenging – Pascoe was booked on a later train but with the rapidity of the lockdown, I worried the border might suddenly close. 

Luckily, many people more cautious than us had cancelled their trips and there was a spare seat on our train for Pascoe.

The whole experience made me realise that if I were to be locked down or ill I would much rather be in my own home, surrounded by my own stuff, and supported by kind neighbours.

Home Sweet Home.