Day trip to Calais.
It was shit. It must've been in year 7... the french department thought it would be a good idea to organise a short trip across the channel to Calais. This involved waking up at 4am, and turning up at school half asleep only to find that the coach was delayed, and didn't arrive till 9:30. I had to sit next to the ill-looking kid who managed to eat a bag of quavers and promptly throw them up again all over me before we even got onto the motorway. We managed to make good time and got to Calais in the early afternoon, but no more than 100 metres past the port gates, the coach broke down. It was raining. A replacement coach was called from the UK, and meanwhile, I got to sit for 5 hours watching the puke dry on my school trousers, and try to breathe through my mouth so as not to inhale the acidic and vaugely cheesy smell given off by my clothes. In the end, when the replacement coach arrived we turned straight back around and went home. Utterly fucking pointless if you ask me.
(superficialfilter, Thu 21 Apr 2005, 16:47, Reply)