By Isle of Wight Observer
Where did everyone go? Self-service cash registers, parking apps, smart meters, wherever you turn technology replaces people.
Cash is no longer king, it’s your cards they’re after – or preferably a BACS payment. When things go wrong, as they often do, there’s no-one around to help. Corporate bean-counters love saving shareholders’ money by reducing the headcount. A mate just took a driverless taxi in both the USA and China.
I’ve returned from a European ski holiday and was happy to drive myself. On our 1,360-mile trip, we didn’t see a single traffic cop – but did pass hundreds of automated speed cameras. Thankfully only two flashed us! We cruised in a comfy 4×4, although despite the lofty driving position, these days, everyone seems to look down on you.
In 1970 early Range Rovers cost the same as Hillman Avenger’s and didn’t have carpets. You could hose out farm mud before heading off to town for a posh dinner. My Land Rover usually pulls trailers laden with all manner of things. That said, I can’t lie, it was great on the school run too. Have you noticed, all newer cars constantly beep and message you. It’s very distracting, even if it’s all supposed to make us safer.
The drive down to Austria was fairly slow because they’re rebuilding Hitler’s comprehensive autobahn system. So, after an enjoyable week on the piste, we decided to try and defeat the German’s by heading back overnight. We left late afternoon Friday and without any hold-ups, made it to Calais just after midnight.
Driving through the night, I wondered what Greta Thunberg would make of our epic journey? The fuel cost certainly wasn’t my fault, in town, diesel cost €1.60 a litre, on the autobahn, we paid €2.20!
On arrival in Calais, ours seemed to be the only car, but strangely, the P&O receptionist offered a choice of 1.30am, 3.30am or 5.20am sailings. He claimed the ‘border queues were long,’ but with over an hour to spare, naturally we wanted that first ferry.
Surely, there was enough time for a passport check.
Once through to the marshalling yard, our hearts sank when we saw hundreds of Romanian panel vans, trying to merge into one single lane before presenting themselves at the one open passport booth. Initially, we assumed UK Border Force officials were on some kind of anti-Brexit go slow, so with little else to do, timed the process. Each van took up to 10 mins to check, and UK resident car drivers were caught up in the chaos.
As the hours slipped away, we crept forward, battling for every inch of territory. Two hours later, we made it to passport control, our document checks took 10 seconds. An official explained that Friday nights are ‘Romanian nights’ in Calais. Apparently, hundreds come to the UK, “to buy used car parts” before returning home on Sunday evening. Historically, a few have tried smuggling unauthorised countrymen in the back of their huge vans, hence the careful searches and identity checks. Once clear of the madness, we dashed to the 3.30am ferry queue, only to be told we couldn’t board it – because that P&O receptionist we first encountered at the port entrance printed 5.20am on our boarding pass. We begged, we pleaded, but the quay staff told us that once inside the port of Calais, there is no human available to reprint boarding passes. P&O’s website was no help, nor was their App, and naturally, their call centre was closed. We had no choice but to wait for the 5.20am sailing. We watched the ferry sail away without us – you know how that feels!
Five hours of our lives wasted, thanks mostly to Calais port’s incompetence, and P&O, who don’t employ humans to assist their customers.
Greta seemed to have had the last laugh, but I’m definitely flying next year!