Travels to the Hoek of Holland
So, being 17 years old and studying for your exams is undoubtedly a difficult time. There is simply no accounting for youthful logic and my travels to the Hoek of Holland were no exception to this rule.
It was still pitch black outside the window at 3.30am on a cold and windy March morning when I dragged myself from bed. The trees shrugged like lonely skeletons as I waited for my lift to the train station ready to start my journey to the ferry. The weather forecast continued to issue warnings of gale force winds blowing across the Eastern counties of England. I smirked to myself. Wind or no wind, I was going to catch my ferry.
The sun had begun to creep over the vast outlines of the ferries resting in the port of Felixstowe as I prepared to board.
“Passport and boarding pass, please love.” I raised an eyebrow at the crusting make up around the oversized smile of the travel assistant greeting me. Her lips were stained dark crimson and her eyes sank beneath a heavy layer of grey eye shadow. She could have been quite attractive under there I supposed. I wasn’t quite sure though.
Mustering an equally vapid smile, I handed her my passport and felt my stomach perform a little flip. The ships horn echoed through the departure lounge.
“Last call now, love. You made it just in time.” I forced another smile and tried to look suitably relieved. I decided not to mention my unnecessary and prolonged lingering around the corner to avoid having to stand in the queue with what appeared to be an entire army regiment… (To be continued)
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