Too many errors. Finally zzzz.

It was simple to cross the remainder of Kent and plunge into the cold channel then I forgot the sheer size of Europe in my blind haste and waiting with illegal immigrants to thumb a lift, with a hand drawn sign for 'Bruges' on one of the main sliproads onto roads leading to Dunkirk. I waited until the sun began to sink, then i began fretting when a number of guys kept checking me out: dog eats dog when you must reach England(what hope we must give those) and then galloped the full length of the port(massive), passed a town of refugee tents freezing in the wind, on through slightly interesting Calais, hotel du ville, lighthouse and old tower on place Du fontain and to le gare where I currently want to be in Bruges not Lille(twice I have been drawn bewildered in France to Lille(then I feared a park bench would need house me). I am fond of these challenges. Where would I be if I didn't seek confused moments: Hell. This is better and reminds me utterly of my trip to Put en Velay. My French is familiar yet appalling. Even an Australian I shared the crossing with could hardly tell what I was saying in my Yorkshire dialect. To be alone on a SNCF 2nd classe coach heading ever away from my Anglo-Saxon tongue and I am happy in this silence. Passing a comment coming to Ebblinghem to a passenger: froid. I reach into my luggage for coat and think of the great coat PLF wore through the Rhineland: I saw these in an army surplus store in Canterbury and almost pounced. The weather this winter hasn't shifted gear yet so I will wait until it is just me tramping along towards a visceral blizzard in my heart. And I don't like train stations vile modern soulless featureless  ! The moon sits heavy fat as we reach Lille-Flandres only a few minutes late. Must eat!

Hopped from one station to another and there is a winter wind driving along the main thoroughfare before I reach Lille-Europe - modern and vast. A guard helps me see the Eurostar Train Manager and I get on board cutting my travel time if not the unexpected cost.

In Bruges found a helpful local, Luke, who delivered me to the door of Lybeer. Charmingly proper town: even in the dark. I went so far out of my way actually stop once more. Like a boomerang I left Calais for Cobusier Lille swinging from Brussels Midi through old Ghent and chucked my bags at room nine rounded up two 25cl of finest quality brews: Rodenbach and Gueze Boon Lambek then via another handy helper(nothing is too much trouble) friekendel and fries. Crashing to the symphony of Korean traveller snores reminding of a man I meet during Chemin St Jacques: a good walker Jay was. A miracle: tucked into a pocket ear plugs I purchased for a euro in Pamplona. Knackered at 12:10am. Twelve months away he has been in one to one back hone; modern connections!