Newhaven Ferry

Slow, lumbering, smelly, floor awash with vomit and beer. The Newhaven ferry to Dieppe, left at 10 am & 10 pm every day. A cantankerous crew, irritated truckers (all that Sulphate would keep them buzzing ‘round the deck for the length of the four hour journey), school trips (on the morning run), cheapskate Eurorailers (in the evening) and a clutch of low-fi hipsters heading for Dieppe and then the bright lights of Montmatre.

We used to take the night trip more often than not (10 quid cheaper). Fuelled on cheap lager, we’d get the train via Lewes and manage to slink on board about 10 minutes before departure. Although one particularly snowbound journey led to a 12 hour wait in ‘The Last Pub in England’. Plenty of opportunity to spend all remaining holiday money on toasted cheese sandwiches.

The rusting, lilting Transmanche ferries, take ages to do anything – not least open up the bars. A couple of lagers and only a bloody Toblerone to keep us company as we ease out of the alternative ‘gateway to the South’, so farewell to the fort, the River Ouse and Seven Sisters… Onwards, rolling onwards to France, Europe, the World!

When we finally got to the other side, tired, wet, cold and not a tad seasick. We’d be herded onto the docks and onto the trains (snatched memories of different mpre sinister circumstances) and then head off for Paris. All the while very conscious of the lingering smell of Newhaven – vomit & beer!