Five Day Trip to Calais — Unless a Seed

Day Four, Sunday

Dunkirk, up the coast, was billed as the main event of the day but more of that later.

First was our morning coffee at Grooves and a further chess battle. My version of the twenty or so moves over the course of the next half-hour may not be a true reflection of what happened. In fact, saying ‘half-an-hour’ itself maybe entirely inaccurate, as time has a habit of standing still with minds engaged in tactical analysis, strategy, and middle-game theory (these are all terms Paul used – I’m just passing them on).

Here's my account. At the halfway stage the pieces are arranged in truly defensive Maginot lines and tension is mounting for the first of a series of exchanges. Exchanges, I must add, that I survive better than in our previous matches. I try not to look over into Paul’s right-hand corner. I have a Bishop and Queen attack and possible ‘mate’. On my right flank, things are not looking too good. But I’m only two moves from victory. I shed a bishop and, if I’m remembering correctly, a knight, but gain both of Paul’s bishops. I’m now one move from certain victory. But why isn’t Paul looking forlorn? Nor has he toppled his King as a Gentleman surely would. Bit like Boris, he continues on, defeat staring him in the face.

And then Bam. I’m checkmated. Just like that. No mercy. Defeat number three.

But to play chess with the windows down, warmth from the Sun replacing the rain of yesterday, and in a café on Calais beach is an idyllic way to kick start the day.

The sun visors holding firm we drove up the coast to Dunkirk full of images from the 2017 film and other histories filling our minds. Finding our way to the War Museum, we walked around the various rooms and watched a loop video re-telling the story of how the German army squeezed the French and British armies onto the beach at Dunkirk awaiting evacuation in the little boats and larger vessels in Operation Dynamo. It is impressive, simple, and arresting. Definitely worthwhile visiting.

Our relationship with France is so mixed. Dunkirk and then again in Normandy at the close of WWII showing, perhaps, that true entente cordial is a deeply human bond born from mutual suffering, not one that can be forged through political structures.

Walking from the museum and onto the famous beach via a beautiful pedestrian bridge curving up and over the sand dunes we met a long series of eateries pointing out onto the vast sands. Very unlike the wonderfully sparse and deserted beach at Le Chatelier,

Hungry now, we made the worst choice of our few days en France. The waitress was off-hand, plonked the menus down with a thump on our table, and walked off. Later she stood behind Paul, smoking and talking on her mobile. We ordered burgers. It took twenty-five minutes before they appeared – and they were undercooked. The waitress remained charmless and grumpy. One can only speculate why she works there. 1, maybe, out of 5. Such a contrast with yesterday’s experience in Calais.

Not only that but another restaurant boomed out incessant bass lines and drums that drowned out conversation and dominated the whole beach area.

So, how to sum up Dunkirk? Had I discovered the power socket feeding the mindlessly intrusive boom boom, and had the waitress taken the day off, Dunkirk sea-front could have received a Gold Award. On the day we were there…maybe a crumpled-tin-of-eternal-grating-medallion would have been more appropriate?

After lunch and worrying a little about food poisoning, we wandered over the sands on the beach. So beautiful. And clean. Many enjoying sunbathing, football, some in the water and so on. It’s impossible to imagine how utterly horrendous life on the beach would have been for the retreating armies between May 26th and June 4th 1940. Salutary moments.

*Dunkirk - the beach in more peaceful times*

The MG is not a silent and smooth drive but compared with the intrusive music (have I mentioned that before?) it was a haven of peace as we made our way back without the aid of dear Satnav…we’re officially locals now and know our way around. Mais oui!

Never before was a 4 o’clock cuppa tea more welcome…and a nap!