At Calais


0330 a train full of cars, enough to make a traffic jam on the motorway,  rumbles slowly across the level crossing in front of us. People whisper “I can’t see the end”. Cars of all sorts, in two layers, driverless, cross my field of view in a ghostly procession, doubled by reflection, the “greenest” way they’ll ever move.
I am on the Megabus from Amsterdam, returning to England and work on Monday. I have had a great week in a small but quietly great country.
Now I am sleepless in Calais.