Reading the fine print of the 1977 Thomas Cook International Timetable after consuming sausage and chips and a couple of beers led to dire consequences halfway through the Dover Ostend crossing. Fortunately the ghastly sensations ceased once dry land was under foot and Bob and I were able to savour the excitement of a train journey to behind the Iron Curtain.
There was no steam to keep us awake in our couchettes but the frequent border inspections did the job until Berlin Friedrichstrasse was reached in a freezing grey dawn redolent of Cold War spy thrillers. We couldn’t get out of the station until our passports had been very thoroughly inspected and even then we were instructed to take our documents to police headquarters at Alexanderplatz for further examination. There were long queues to exchange currency and as we waited in line a young chap sidled up to us and offered to buy our Sterling at rates far above the official figure. Knowing that such transactions were illegal we declined, pretty sure that he was some kind of entrapment operator as he worked his way through the crowd under the noses of uniformed police officers. Then Bob upset the official money changer by asking for Reichsmarks -
