the longest of days

step one: morning, yaëlle's house. I woke up and went to the patisserie to enjoy one last edible pain au chocolat before leaving france.
as i started gathering up my bits, the cat fled under the bed. she knew what was coming.
step two: I dragged the cat out from under the bed and stuffed her into her much hated cat box. step three: we walked to place Iéna to get the metro. we changed to the RER at st lazare, and went from there to gare du nord.
step four: TGV to calais. as it was rush hour the train was packed with french business men, me and the beast. she meowed non stop and all of the business men looked at me like i was insane.
step five: taxi from calais ville station to calais hooverport, which is located at the end of the planet.
step six: we arrived at the hooverport at 11:50. there was a boat leaving at 12:45 and i asked if we can get on it. but no, the guards inspected the beast's passport which indicated that she had received her tick and worm treatment yesterday at 16:30. we cannot set foot on the boat until exactly 24 hours have passed since the treatment. so we spend the next FIVE HOURS locked in a pet waiting room with four border guards (two french, two english) and it seems i was the only person on this given day insane enough to want to cross the channel with a cat, so there are four border guards monitouring one cat. fortunately, they were very kind and even tried to play with her. but she was clearly NOT INTERESTED. i took her out of the box, but the only thing she would do was bury her nose in my hair, as though trying to hide from the four border guards. as if that were possible!
step seven: 16:30 came and my furry compagnion was put in her "charriot" as the guards called it. she was rolled off, by herself, to the cat section of the boat. i got on with the foot passenger.
step eight: britain's best and brightest are on the boat.
The boat ride was utterly surreal. It was even stranger than milton keynes! I didnt see/hear a single french person on board. The whole boat was composed of overweight and mainly middle aged (or at least middle aged looking) english people. They were all white, working class and from the south coast. There were very few foot passengers, almost everyone had come in their car. Almost everyonewas on a day return ticket. I gathered this was the routine: they drive over to calais, or even more likely some border town in belgium, fill their car with as many cigarette cartons and beer cases as possible, and then they drive back to england. I guess it makes sense economically if you are planning on drinking and smoking A LOT. There were also some younger types: late teen guys trying to impress their girlfriends with how much they could spend on alcohol. Their conversation could hardly be described as intellectual. For example, when i was waiting for the guards to bring the cat charriot, some of the louts waiting in line nearby started saying things like “thats some real fine pussy you got their lady” and then “i bet you are real proud of your pussy arent you?” charming stuff. The whole boat ride was like that. They even had shops on the boat selling more beer and cigarrettes and people were pushing each other to try and grab whatever they could, since it was all supposedly free of UK taxes. Whatever that means, i dont know since both france and britain are part of the EU. I realise some things in france are cheaper, but i dont think the difference is enormous....but the english were pushing and fighting for their beer with the same zeal and determination that french woment fight over scarves and jumpers during the sale season in paris.
Step nine: arrived in dover. Yes, the cliffs really do exist, although they are not so white.
I guess out of fear the cat pissed herself during the ride. I took her to the toilet and tried to dry her off, but she didnt want to come out of the cage, and in the end the only result was she was still wet, but we were both equally covered in piss. Lovely.
Oddly, there was no bank machine at the port. Apparently the only one in dover happens to be where i need to go, specifically at the train station. So, as i had no english money on me, i ended up walking nearly 30 minutes, unhappy cat in tow, to the train station.
Step ten: train from dover to london charing cross. At first i was next to some loud and loutish army recruits, then they got off and an excessively talkative gay guy with a lot of make up on hopped aboard. He sat next to me and chatted non stop until we got to london. He worked for MAC and had a serious delemma: he thinks he is in love with a guy (they have known each other for a whopping three weeks) but he has just been offered a transfer to bermuda. Omigod, what to do? I suggested he go for bermuda. He agreed: if it is true love the guy will wait.
Step eleven: metro ride with changes and unhappy cat. By this time, the piss had dried, but but we both smelled like cat piss none the less.
Step twelve: yet another train ride, this one from king’s cross. I sat next to an ultra serious indian doctor who quizzed me at length about the medical formalities of bringing at cat to england without quarantine. I showed him her two passports which he studied intensively for several minutes. He was very nice, but i was very tired and struggled to make conversation. The cat hundled in the back of the cage, nose under tail.
Step thirteen: cab ride home from the station. The cat meowled pitifully and tried to bury her ears. Apparently she does not appreciate loud hindu pop music.
Step fourteen: we arrived home. Piss dried to her fur, the cat dives into my pile of dirty laundry, seemingly seeking refuge amongst my smells. I will definately have to do laundry as soon as possible!

We have been here for 12 hours now, and the cat has spent the majority of this period under my blanket sleeping. Hopefully she will eventually recover her normal vicious personality, but at the moment she seems rather shell shocked. Fuck the eurostar for not taking cats!

I left a note to the landlord: “attention: this is to notify you that, after a brief skirmish with defiant guards, Her Imperial Highness, N, Tsarina and Ruler of All That She Surveys, has officially entered British territory and taken up residency in ------.”
Fortunately the landlord likes cats. He has four.