The holiday Mum chose next for us was a four-day coach trip to Bruges/Brugge in Belgium, setting out from Leeds. It was the first package holiday we’d tried on our own, though Mum had been on holidays by herself before I was borned and so I was sure we’d be able to cope.
It didn’t get off to the best of starts, however, as the road system in the centre of Leeds had recently been changed and no traffic was allowed to go to the place where the holiday company had told us to wait for the coach.
We went and stood there anyway as it gave us a clear view of all the other places the coach might stop and, after a few minutes, a car drew up and the driver asked Mum if she was waiting for the coach to Bruges as he’d given a lift to his elderly auntie and her friend who were going on the same trip.
That made us feel better – and it wasn’t long before we saw the coach draw up at the other side of City Square from where we’d been told to wait. We all waved madly at it, to make sure the driver realised we were there, and then we picked up our weekend bags and scurried across to join it.
After that, everything went well and it didn’t seem long at all before we were at the ferry terminal at Dover, waiting our turn to board the ferry across the Channel to France.
And, once on board and off the coach, Mum soon found us a good place to sit down and enjoy a cup of tea and some shortbread biscuits while we waited for the ferry to set off. Then, as it was such a lovely sunny day, we went up on deck, first of all to watch the famous White Cliffs of Dover fade into the distance…
…and then to watch the coastline of France come closer and closer…
before we had to go back below deck to rejoin our coach.
And, as it made its way slowly down the ramp and all its wheels were back on solid ground, I gave a quiet little cheer to celebrate clocking up another new country.
Once we got out of the ferry terminal at Calais, we were soon clicking up the miles/kilometres towards Bruges, first quite near to the French coast and then gradually turning inland towards the border between France and Belgium – and, as me and Mum had a seat to ourselves, I was able to look out of the window all the time without anyone seeing me.
As we drove along, I was amazed at how flat the surrounding countryside was – and how empty it seemed with nothing but vast fields, separated by small canals and drainage channels, and a few isolated farms near the road, though we could see towns and villages in the distance…
…then Mum told me that she thought Grandpa Graham would have driven this way quite a few times during the autumn of 1944 when 143 Company, Royal Army Service Corps (Tank Transporter) was stationed in Sint-Gillis-bij-Dendermonde and, as the nearby port of Antwerp was still under Nazi occupation, they had to transport everything they needed by road from the port of Cherbourg in France.
We know that Grandpa Graham and the rest of the company crossed the border from France in to Belgium on September 24th 1944. We did the same on August 21st 1998, but, while they’d arrived in pouring rain, we arrived in glorious sunshine – and I gave another little cheer as I added another country to my list.
It wasn’t long then before we were at our hotel, almost in the centre of Bruges, and getting ready to eat our evening meal, followed by a glass of wine and good night’s sleep in preparation for a busy sight-seeing tour the next day.
And what a wonderful experience that was! Unlike Helsinki or Stockholm which were so big that we’d had to tour round them on a coach, the centre of Bruges was compact enough for us to go round on foot with our guide…
I’ll have to tell you more about that in my next post, however, as me and Mum still haven’t quite written all our Christmas cards and, if we don’t get them finished tonight, we’ll miss the last posting date for Christmas. So, for the time being, please take care and stay safe – and look out for some more tales from me soon!
Follow my next blog: 235. A SPOOKY STORY FOR CHRISTMAS
15/12/2022
Wilf the bear-faced blogger 