5.25am Belgian chocolate time. Arrive surprisingly in Zeebrugge not Ostend, perhaps the ship’s Captain was at the bar putting the world to rights with the drunks last night. The coach belches its darkened fumes to darken the smoggy atmosphere below deck and we handbrake turn out of the port and head for Germany. My first impression of Belgium is I wouldn’t fancy being a hill walker here, it’s so bloody flat. I reckon Chris Bonnington holidays here.
8.20am – Had 3.5hrs kip since leaving London yesterday morning and wished I had raided Ian & Jovis’ drugs cabinet when I had the chance to see if there was any valium knocking around, sleep is virtually impossible. We picked up a further 15 people in Brussels, so there’s not much room to spread these long legs anymore. To make matters worse the driver is entertaining us with Now That’s What I Call Greek Music Vol 68 on cassette. It’s fucking awful, no wonder the twats have never won the Eurovision Song Contest! I think when the time comes to return home I’m gonna hitch-hike.
11.57am – Woke up to find we were on German soil, near Dortmond. The sleeping attempts on this coffin-coach are a living nightmare.
3.25pm – Travelling south toward Munich, stopped off at Frankfurt. Legs slowly going numb.
6.45pm – Arrive somewhere near Munich, managing periodical 40 winks, but divided unevenly to make it to the full forty. Munich seems a very interesting city, particularly if you’re into pre-war architecture.
9.35pm – Now approaching the Austrian border with breathtaking views of The Alps. We stop for a piss-break, the ladies queue patiently, the men revive a withering bush. Won’t see much of the Austrian landscape as night is falling in fast. Time to attempt a proper sleep on this not very comfortable coach. It’s funny that there’s still no excitement to be felt, despite the fact that I’m on a one-way ticket abroad, been through three new countries with two more ahead of me.