Britrail - Dover

May 30, 2010

Wyona asked me what it was I really wanted to do.

I am the one who has had the tune ringing in my mind, “There’ll be blue birds over the white cliffs of Dover” and though the day was dull, and rain was forecast, I thought we would enjoy at least the train ride there.

The taxi driver at the station told us that there was no hop-on-bus, and no city bus to take us there.

That a taxi was the only way to go and that it would be nine pounds.

“Why didn’t I tell him to put his meter on,” Wyona said later. "I am a seasoned travellor. I know better."

“And why didn’t I tell him that the guide books tell us that there is a hop-on-hop-off bus,” I replied.

“We are not going to go back at that price,” said Wyona, "rather than give him a call to take us back to the station. I shall just ask someone at the visitor’s centre to give us a lift back to the train station."

By that time it had started to rain and she scooted me ahead to take a few pictures.
The sign said that the cliff crumble and that walkers should not be closer than 5 meters to the edge.

The path was closer than that and no guard rails.

I would have been a nervous wreck if there had been any children along.

The view one way was the white cliffs, created by the glacier that covered northern Europe and cut the channel between England and the rest of the land mass.

The view the other way was boats leaving for the continent.

The man who gave us a ride back to the station said that the town has suffered since the opening of the chunnel.

Jobs lost over that.

Then he asked his wife how to get to the train station, for though they drive there often from 20 miles away, he said he has never had occasion to go there.

That taxi driver must be new.

Of course we know he is not new. He is just a good scammer.

Arta