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blamebramptonTonight was going to be just ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
pingrid and I. Alas, that was before Eurostar cancelled today. The good news is that we have another night of raitala , the bad news is that raitala is stuck here for another night. However, we trekked to the Gare du Nord and asked the nice Eurostar people what the story was, since the website was profoundly useless and the phones took uselessness out to biblical proportions.
As a result, rai and I will be at Gare du Nord tomorrow morning at 8am, and I will be doing the third-worst Australian accent in the world as I try to convince people from Eurostar that we desperately need to fly home to Australia on Monday so that I can check on my baby, which I have left with my pet dingo. In fact I need to fly home on Tuesday, but rai has family Christmas tomorrow, which may not be quite as dramatic to Eurostar staff, but is far more urgent to my mind, hence my awful lie. Happily there are any number of Australians who will be doing something similar, so we should be able to sneak through undetected as long as I can keep my early Nicole Kidman impersonation running.
For now we are off to Notre Dame, having made the mistake of eating at a restaurant chosen on the basis of proximity rather than edibility. Some magnificent architecture will help salve our wounds. Fingers crossed tomorrow will be back in South Kensington for me. But I did take a photo of everything in Versailles that was gayer than the very gay average. Alas, no pix till my computer is reborn, but they will be worth the wait.
pingrid and I. Alas, that was before Eurostar cancelled today. The good news is that we have another night of raitala , the bad news is that raitala is stuck here for another night. However, we trekked to the Gare du Nord and asked the nice Eurostar people what the story was, since the website was profoundly useless and the phones took uselessness out to biblical proportions.
As a result, rai and I will be at Gare du Nord tomorrow morning at 8am, and I will be doing the third-worst Australian accent in the world as I try to convince people from Eurostar that we desperately need to fly home to Australia on Monday so that I can check on my baby, which I have left with my pet dingo. In fact I need to fly home on Tuesday, but rai has family Christmas tomorrow, which may not be quite as dramatic to Eurostar staff, but is far more urgent to my mind, hence my awful lie. Happily there are any number of Australians who will be doing something similar, so we should be able to sneak through undetected as long as I can keep my early Nicole Kidman impersonation running.
For now we are off to Notre Dame, having made the mistake of eating at a restaurant chosen on the basis of proximity rather than edibility. Some magnificent architecture will help salve our wounds. Fingers crossed tomorrow will be back in South Kensington for me. But I did take a photo of everything in Versailles that was gayer than the very gay average. Alas, no pix till my computer is reborn, but they will be worth the wait.
