Il Pleut. Et petit.

With great engineering projects come great big tunnels, and as the train races through Kent my ears are constantly popping as we enter and exit. I’m grateful for my old companion, the extra strong mint.

The rest of the journey is pretty uneventful and my arrival in Lille is accompanied by a heavy hail shower. Trudging along cobbled streets with hand luggage is always a drag – literally. The Hotel de la Paix is only about ten minutes walk from the station but its tiny entrance is easy to miss in the rain.

It reminds me of an old British seaside hotel. A minuscule lift transports cramped guests to a series of dimly lit corridors and small rooms. This was about the best angle I could get of the bed, whilst perching behind the TV

What you can’t see here is the horrendous shade of 1970s green of the duvet. But on the plus side, the bath is almost as big as the bedroom.

I should remind you that all photos so far are courtesy of the iPad. I’m reluctant to stand in the middle of the street with it. I might look like a tourist.

Anyway, enough of indoors. Time to venture outside.

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