Arriving in England on a brilliantly sunny summer morning is always a pleasure until you get stopped by a customs officer at the ferry port of Harwich and you start feeling like a criminal.
“What is the purpose of your visit, madam?”
The smile looks genuine but the feeling behind it is clear. You, madam, are a woman travelling on your own. You must be either very weird or a drugs trafficker. Now I know that I’m a bit odd, even one of my best friends told me so (and I must say I’m rather proud of that), but I’m certainly no drugs trafficker, so in a situation like this there are two things you can do.
1. I could behave indignantly, which will surely result in me having to unpack the whole car, but will give me the satisfaction of feeling very superior once I’m allowed to leave, or
2. smile sweetly and be very nice, treat the gentleman like he’s my favourite grandson and be very sympathetic he has a job like that.
I didn’t feel like going for option one. As I said, the sun was shining and the countryside had looked very appealing from the ferry when we were disembarking, so I went for the big smile.
“The purpose of my visit, sir, is a holiday. I will be visiting friends in Wiltshire and I got to know them when I rented a cottage from them a few years ago.”
My smile didn’t seem to make an immediate impression.
“So what is your profession, madam?”
“I’m an English teacher.”
I was relieved to see that that helped for some reason. It seems teachers are somehow trustworthy. Or maybe his wife was a teacher as well.
The questions went on for a while, but finally he told me I could go. I had no idea what I had said to make him change his mind but I was greatly relieved to find that I didn’t have to unpack the car after all and wouldn’t have to explain why I was carrying my medication in bulk. I’m a terrible worrier so I always take more medication than is needed in two separate bags. In case one of them gets stolen, I will still have the second bag. Then of course I also take into account the fact that there may be a delay in getting home, so I always take a bit extra. Anyway, in retrospect, I would have had a lot to explain.
Needless to say, I accelerated out of there. The last thing I saw of the friendly customs officer was his head disappearing in a cloud of diesel from my exhaust.
I love England. Though a part of Europe, people there have retained the sense of isolation true to island dwellers. They do everything their own way and even when you can travel anywhere in Europe nowadays without having to show your passport England is the perfect exception to the rule. It still takes a long way to go through customs, especially when you’re a single lady from Holland (the den of iniquity as far as drugs and sex are concerned), but still I wouldn’t want to miss my trips over there.
People often ask me why I like going to the UK when I could so easily go somewhere else where it’s just as beautiful and where I could go with a lot less hassle, but I truly wouldn’t know. I could of course give you a whole list of things which I’m sure you can find in any travel guide, but essentially it comes down to only one thing. For some reason arriving in England always feels like coming home. I’m just odd that way
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