During which I gathered Henrietta Maria of France, at Saint Denis, Paris
Lille, July 9 2024
OK, so not a total clusterfuck, but its felt close a couple of times. Purely because of my own inability to organise myself. So much sitting waiting. And not good, comfortable sitting. Awkward, leaning back at a weird angle sitting, or twisted round getting my leg stuck in a rictus sitting, or staring intently at my book so as not to make eye contact with the million people without a seat sitting (bitch you want a seat? Get here 3 hours early like I did). [After-note: pretty sure I saw Tim McInerny waiting in the departure lounge]
So, for the record: cab to King’s Arms and Berry’s coach top London. My Eurostar left at 3.04, so to be on the safe side I’d allowed 2 hours to get through the customs checks. But in the two months since I’d booked that had morphed into the departure being at 1pm so as soon as I got off the coach I went straight there, got a sandwich, checked with the attendant that I was good to board and made it all the way to the ticket check to be told no, you’re too early. Get out of line, find a seat, read for an hour, re-join the queue. After all this, it took all of 15 minutes from joining the queue to sitting down again in the departure lounge. On the way through I experienced the usual gamut of idiot tourist nonsense (no, you don’t get to skip the x-ray because you packed a suitcase too heavy to life; no, you don’t get to slide across to the EU line just because there’s no queue, you’re a Brit, this is your life now). The train was as it always is: rammed and uncomfortable but at least fast, only 1.5 hours to Lille. The hotel is maybe 20 minutes from the train station but through a fairly dirty industrial bit of Lille. I can see the cathedral technically from my room but there’s a fuck-off big crane in front of it. I tried to introduce myself in French at the hotel and it went fine until he asked if I had a car and I thought I said ‘no, I came on foot’, at which point my shit French and his having neither French nor English as a first language collided. I did at least manage to say ‘I’m very tired can we try this in English’ in French, so not a total loss. The room’s your average Travelodge type but with an amazing waterfall shower so got straight in. Clearly luxury in France is a right not a…luxury? Had dinner in the hotel, bloody lovely sausage stew and rice in the hotel buffet at which no matter how many ways I asked no-one would tell me the rules so I just had to watch and make the best of it. You could have 1, 2 or 3 of the hot, cold and dessert options, I got hot and pudding. I was a bit scared of going back for seconds so I just pilled up on tiny pastries and fruit salad. The I retired to tackle the big question of the trip – having bragged about Lille being the cheaper option and how Paris was only an hour away, I had neglected to actually book the ticket. So when I checked the times, assuming it would still be in the £10 range of two months ago, I was, lets be honest, horrified that even being careful about the timings it would cost no less than £86. Sat in the hotel room in my pants, exhausted from a day of battling to be hours away from achieving the gather and being hit in the face with an unexpected £86 train ticket. I am shit at this. I looked at different stations, I looked at different routes, I looked at local buses. No. £86.
[I’m sure there would have been more at this point but I was shocked into catatonia by the £86.]
Lille, July 10th 2024
I think I’ll be paying for yesterday for a week. The number of tickets on offer at train stations is a nightmare. I found Lille Flandres after a bit of the usual wandering about, got a water refill thanks to a helpful litter guy and the trip to Paris was OK, more comfy than Eurostar at least. Then it took me a full hour just to pop to the loo (it had a gift shop – branded tampons and toilet roll, I kid you not) and get a ticket. I asked a TGV guy who pointed me at a machine with a huge queue of confused foreigners. After 15 minutes of waiting he came and found me, took me to the front of the queue and helped me buy a ticket, bless him.
So, the side of Saint Denis that’s hosting the Olympics has obviously had a lot of regeneration done but the side with the cathedral has very much not, and felt like Sidwell Street on a Saturday night. Its a predominantly Black Muslim area so I stuck out like an increasingly pink thumb. I didn’t feel unsafe, just super obvious. The basilica was at the end of a long market street, very busy, lots of shops selling caftans and hijabi ladies with massive DJ style headphones. It was a bit of a controlled riot and under other circumstances I would have spent more time just enjoying the spectacle. Had a bit of a weep on the way up to the church, then lost it completely when I got inside. Had a sit down in the nave and pretend to pray while I composed myself and deploy the walking stick. I got a map which showed the royals were mostly in the crypt so I hobbled off.
[The actual gather of Henrietta Maria can be read here]
I was so tired it overrode any worries about doing the wrong thing so I spent an hour or so in a street café then went a different, quieter way back to the train station. It wouldn’t accept my ticket (I think now because I was going in/out by the wrong gate) so I bought another and waiting on the first platform I came to that had a departure for Paris. From where I had an excellent view of the three trains that stopped on the opposite platform, destination Paris. Also after repeated and kind of annoying text weather alerts for thunderstorms we finally actually had one, and it sounded like a mountain exploding over us, followed by ten minutes of apocalyptic hail and then nothing. The big rain cleared the air too, so had a chance to cool down.
The train back to Lille was early which was good because I was in the last coach of two trains stuck together and was practically back in Saint Denis before I got on. Had a table seat so I finished writing up the gather and read my book. After I finished The Galaxy and the Ground Within I treated myself to Record of a Space-Born Few. I should be reading my reading club book but I can’t face Eritrean refugees while I’m supposed to be relaxing. Got back, had a shower and dinner in the hotel again – this evening was slices of roast beef in peppercorn sauce with courgette gratin and dauphinoise potatoes followed by two kinds of fruit tart and some weird spongy cake. I can’t imagine what European travellers must make of what we laughingly call a buffet in England.
I’m catching up over breakfast – simple bread and cheese – and enjoying a group of Japanese school kids navigate the buffet. I was waiting for someone to stab a pain au chocolate with a fork to eat it. I was not disappointed. Yes, I’m racist.
Later, in the train from London to Taunton
I’m a bit annoyed with myself – I left so much buffer time around the edges of each event I have again spent most of the day waiting, but not enough time or energy to actually do anything. So I waited. A lot. I should have checked, and trusted, the Eurostar instructions for Lille. Whereas London of course needs to get thousands of people through, Lille has the luxury of not opening one boarding until the train before has fully departed. If I decide to stay in Lille again when I do whichever queen is at Amiens or Paris, it’ll make things easier.
Anglica Regina 
Leave a comment