I didn't read much while on holiday because I was too busy being on holiday. Coming back from holiday, however, was a different story. The Thalys high-speed train track went down somewhere between Aachen and Belgium, and though fuckin' Douche Bahn knew about the problem for at least two hours before our arrival in Aachen, we still had to wait there for a further two hours for a coach to come pick us up. Apparently German organizational skills don't extend to counting the number of the people on a train and then ordering a corresponding number of coaches to take them to their final destinations, no; it's better to wait until they get to a transit point, watch them mill around in an open square angrily, and then order coaches individually until, after about four hours, everybody has stopped complaining at you. The F-word, who worked there for a few years, explained that in his experience it was the most organized country ever until something went wrong, and that when it come to making contingency plans they are among the most inept people in Europe. I suppose that's how the Nazis got in.
Anyhoo, now we're having a cat emergency so I have to go deal with that instead of writing about Spike Milligan and Bruce Chatwin.
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