Waterloo International Train Station. Home of the Eurostar in the UK, decent salmon bagels and a herd of sheep more commonly known as tourists. Why these people charge, barge and clamber to be on the train as quick as possible I’ll never understand, since everyone has a fixed seat reservation. So, I enjoy my Monday morning bagel, while gleefully watching the furious glances of the English-speaking, queue-respecting travelers being shot at the French-speaking queue-resistant travelers. This gaggle always seems on the verge of an all-out fight but, disappointingly, never quite crosses that hair thin line.

All good things are worth taking a break from and one of them is fiction. So, I submit here the beginnings of my Travelogue. Apologies will not be made for bigotry and hypocrisy.