Erlebnisreiche Klassenfahrt nach England
We did England for five days – that is, three year-nine classes and four overtaxed teachers (they had fun too, don’t you fret). The juxtaposition of foodstuffs between the two nations stuck out like a sore thumb and was bandied about as sustenance for our conversations during our odyssey (we were deprived of our national culinary offerings and given Walkers crisps to masticate. They were mediocre.), determined that it rained far too much than it ought to in the month of May, learned that oysters were the real deal and that the confectionary aisle of English supermarkets was simply terrific (and, blimey, put ours to shame). In other words, we became avowed anglophiles in the five days of our stay.
Our coach journey there took a jot longer than it should have; after bleary toodle-oos at seven o’clock at the Halle am 2. Ring, we made it to Calais, where we were told that our ferry had been delayed by four hours and that we’d have to busy ourselves by our driver, a man who dwarfed us all and foamed at the mouth when he found crumbs on the seats (he developed a sense of humour on Day 5, after all the shouting had been done and all threats voiced, and we adored him for it. He joked that our ferry had been delayed by four hours yet again and we’d have to busy ourselves. He was one of a kind.). We amused ourselves during these four hours, by running back and forth to the toilets in a gale that nearly blew us off our feet. The tempest continued while we were on the ferry and several times I thought we would all go the way of the dinosaurs, but soon we were taking photos on the deck which more or less took my mind off things. Little later we were in Herne Bay and picked up by our host families. Lovely things they were. Though I will again articulate my disappointment at Walkers crisps being the thing Britons can’t go without. The next morning Walkers: Beef and Onion accompanied me to North Greenwich, London. We took a boat along the river, then hopped off it to view the Tower of London on solid ground as well as Tower Bridge with it’s glass floor — in short, all corners a tourist finds joy in viewing. We spent Wednesday in Whitstable (dreadful weather if I may add). We were given free time (what we did? Spent more money than we should have in Sainsbury’s. On confectionary.), then met again as an assemblage of seventy people where Mr Nutter, our plump, bushy eyebrowed tour guide, handed us oysters to eat on the beach, as wind and rain lashed our faces, and thereafter a quiz to complete about the town. Our plan to visit a castle on a cliff was cancelled due to the relentless rain, so our dear coach driver parked in an area near Broadstairs where there were huge shops and department stores and we spent yet another few hours chilling in Sainsbury’s, sipping nonchalantly on coffee. Thursday we spent in London again, and the weather was marvellous. We did the London Dungeon or Chelsea Stadium (depending in which group we were in) and Buckingham Palace for another spell of touristy culture and then headed to Bond Street where all seventy students were set free to do the shop of their lives. On Friday, it was Canterbury’s time to shine. I decided to go all the way and visit the cathedral; and attraction that only piqued the interest of two other students of the seventy (in all fairness, they had wrapped it up snug in scaffolding and billowing white plastic for renovation, so it wasn’t in the prime of life). Then we had more free time, which we, a three-manned group, spent pottering round the lanes peering into shop windows and finally settling down in Waterstones for me to spend far too much money on historical nonfiction books. YOLO, I guess. From 6pm onwards we drove (and sailed) back to Wiesbaden. Naturally most of us did not sleep a wink that night owing to the fact that there was a party going on at the top end of the bus (the choice of music was diabolical), so we exited the coach at six-thirty looking like a horde of zombies. Truly.
By Charlotte Stier, 9d