We dock at the port and I decide to forego the usual tourist trips to London or Canterbury. Instead, I decide to stay close to port and explore the attractions of this world famous coastal town, one of the busiest intercontinental transport hubs in Europe.
I stroll down the gang plank on this glorious summer's day, so evocative of all those wonderful 50s WWII films featuring Kenneth Moore or John Mills.
So where to start? The 12th century castle perhaps.
Well, I can see it up there on the hill but I don't really know how to get there. Do I just start walking? Is there a bus? Where's the tourist centre, they'll be able to tell me...... Hmm, where is the tourist centre? I'm standing here by this roundabout watching the articulated lorries hammering by but I'm not sure how to get into the town and there are no obvious signs in any language I understand. In fact, there's nothing in any language except English!
I'll just start walking then.
After 10 minutes of strolling towards the town, I'm on a dual carriageway with nothing that looks like a town centre in any direction. I try to ask directions but am greeted by a large man with a huge stomach, tatoos and an aggressive looking dog shouting 'SPEAK FU**ING ENGLISH' in my face (the big ugly man, not the aggressive dog). I smile politely and carry on.
Eventually, through luck I find myself in what might be the town centre. I can't be sure as most of it appears to be closed. Many of the shops are empty, and the restaurants have a few defeated looking people in them but none of the menus are in any other language but english. Not even a token effort to produce a French or German version. There is however, an enormous TV screen showing children's programs (but alas, not directions to the council). I'm quite hungry and thirsty but the cafes and pubs don't look like they want to cater for tourists and I can't understand any of the notices anyway. And I still haven't found the tourist office. ..
To be continued
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