Lovely Lille

Thursday afternoon, Lille

I have discovered a tiny chink in the Hotel Amigo´s otherwise impeccable armour. Sir Rocco Forte needs to know that they have run out of white bread for toast. I’ll have to make do with brown, crusty, six-cereal or a whole menu of other breads and pastries. But there is definitely no white toast left for breakfast today. Just as well the big boss chef is away researching new recipe ideas and ingredients in Sicily. Otherwise, someone would be baking white bread as a punishment!

I am surprised to discover that the TGV from Brussels to Lille is going all the way to Perpignan. I am on board for a little more than half an hour, although the Dutch teenager beside me, Rick, is travelling all the way to the south of France on his own for a holiday with a friend and his family. At sixteen years old, with ambitions to get into Oxford or Cambridge, I can only marvel at his excellent English. French too, if it comes to that.

I have little time in Lille to draw breath. The Tourism Office has sent both Christophe and Stephanie to meet me, there being several exits at Lille Europe station. They have a grand plan in which I am to cook lunch, then eat it. I make various jokes about dustbins and having to find a restaurant afterwards, but Reginald Ioos at the newly-opened L'atelier des Chefs is a very forgiving chef and talks me through everything. It´s a great idea. They provide the teacher, ingredients, utensils, facilities and someone to do the washing up and you cook yourself a meal. At only seventeen Euros, it´s a bargain and great fun. Reginald, who worked at the Sheraton at Heathrow Airport, tells me that the concept has also been taken to London and Paris.

Six of us use the finest Sabatier knives to chop courgettes, tomatoes, onions and various other vegetables into little centimetre-sized cubes to prepare a Provencal dish. Then there is some salmon, lightly fried in olive oil then cooked in the oven. Reginald, a local chef, even says that Malden Sea Salt is the best in the world. An even bigger surprise than a French chef recommending something British is that my self-prepared food is edible!

Without time to digest lunch, I have to report to ´Station Oxygene´ near the Lille Citadelle to meet my guide, Yves, and to take a tour of the city by Segway. No, I didn’t know what one is either. I can only describe it as a two wheeled vehicle with a little platform on which you stand while holding onto a long handlebar. They are electrically powered, gyroscopically stabilised and you can learn to drive one in ten minutes or so. It´s a great way to see Lille and Yves, an architectural historian, has a wealth of information. Unfortunately, halfway round the trip, one of the four thousand pound vehicles develops a battery fault and we have to return to base.

I award a gold star to the holidaying Bruno Cappelle of Lille Tourism for his choice of accommodation. He has risen magnificently to the challenge of finding me somewhere different to stay and I have been booked into or onto, I am not sure, the ‘Lille Flottante’, a B and B barge. Owner Manou has lovingly converted the 38 metre long Belgian former cereal barge into a luxurious home, with three letting bedrooms. In my cabin, I have high-speed internet, a top of the range shower that punishes you from all sorts of angles, complete with multi-channel radio, my own fridge and not just satellite TV, but a choice of dishes pointing in different directions. I am worried that I won’t have enough space for all my luggage, but the room is more spacious than my bedroom at home. It even has a bed that does all sorts of electrically-controlled manoeuvres but I am too scared by Manou´s warnings of what to do and what not to do to try it. Lille Flottante is truly wonderful although, even as a Naval Reservist, I feel there’s a little bit of an overkill of the nautical nick-knacks. It´s very highly recommended as somewhere special to stay in Lille and, with tough wave-proof and windproof windows, totally tranquil. I learn later that she and her 10-year old son, Andreas, have come back specially from a camping holiday in Austria, to host my visit, which is a reflection of the level of care and hospitality that is offered. There’s a project underway in the kitchen to grow a dinosaur to six times its´ original size, but I am assured there is no reason for concern.

I have an extremely pleasant surprise, when Roland Chretien and his wife, Marie, who rented one of my apartments in Spain, kindly and unexpectedly, invite me to their lovely home for a meal. They are already treating me to an evening meal at their favourite restaurant Roland and I have to sample a couple of Belgian beers en route and I have to visit a florist to search for a suitable bouquet of flowers for my hostess. Roland is especially generous with his wine, cooked lovely foie gras, followed by lamb and I am delighted to say that my French improved dramatically by the glass. At least I think it did.

The Tourism Office has clearly checked up on me in advance of my visit and their concern about my need for my first decent meal in weeks has clearly been paramount in their planning of the trip. I report to Meert Patisserie, one of the best-known in these parts. France, to my mind, does cakes and pastries better than almost anywhere and this one is rated highly by the locals.

Olivier, my host, is busy serving customers and meeting suppliers and doesn’t have a lot of time to speak to me, but I manage to see their tea-room expansion which opens next month and sample one of their 50 types of tea and one of their renowned vanilla-filled waffles. They are actually a bit sickly to my taste, but it is said that local lad General de Gaulle was such a fan, he had regular supplies secretly shipped to England during the war.

Francis Holder had to take over running the Lille family bakery, Paul, at the age of 18, after his father’s untimely death. The company now has 430 shops worldwide. Delphine Lacroix, the publicist from Paris, seems rather surprised that I have never heard of them; I tell her it´s clearly the fault of the PR people!

Sebastien Cuvelier, the regional director, gives me a great tour of a bakery and explains the company’s original philosophy. In simple terms, white is boring and unhealthy. The staff have to learn their BRAMS, which, translated, means to say hello, use eye-contact, say good bye, thank you and smile. All good customer care stuff. The tour is mostly in French but, after last night’s wine, I have more confidence in my own ability and am doing remarkably well. I think.

After an excellent lunch at one of the Paul restaurants, which include the opportunity to try some lemon and raspberry tarts to die for, I am equipped with a 30 Euro 2-day Lille Pass, so I can see around town and use the public transport. But I need to write my diary and sort out photos, so seek out the sanctuary of my lovely floating accommodation and a nice cup of English breakfast tea.

The dinosaur is coming along nicely and not causing any problem, so Manou leaves me in charge of the barge while she goes off with Andreas to play ping pong. I tell her I am taking the boat to Paris, which, she says, will take me two weeks.

But she gets her own back. She shows me the alarm for the bilges. ‘If it goes off, you are sinking. Enjoy.’

Well I am.

A Marathon from Denmark to Brussels

Tuesday 6am, Brussels

The breakfast chef at the Saxildhus Hotel hasn’t shown up, so, there is still no hot breakfast an hour and a half after breakfast service should have started and many of the other items in the buffet are still being brought out of storage. On checkout, the receptionist can’t find any note that the tourist board is paying my bill and is rather intent on ensuring that I miss my train.

The first 3 and a quarter leg to Hamburg is on the nice DB German Railways, ICE, and then I transfer to a dreary old normal DB train for the 4-hour haul to Cologne. I am booked into a compartment which turns out to be crammed full, so I learn from my earlier experiences and set up camp in the open compartment immediately adjacent to the Bistro car.

I’m looking forward to the 2-hour journey from Cologne to Brussels, because it´s to be on Thalys, the Belgian equivalent of Eurostar. While the train is fast and the first class seating is comfortable, the carriage is dirty and, like Eurostar, is long overdue for refurbishment.

The advertised snack turns out to be a choice of hot or cold drinks, no spirits, and a packet of Tuc biscuits or a chocolate bar. Dinner is, I am told, served between Brussels and Paris. Which is after the vast majority of the passengers, including myself, have got off. The only bit of interest on the journey is a lively altercation between the guard and an American backpacking couple who’d got on at Liege and who ´didn’t know that they had to pay extra to travel on Thalys´ and who were resisting paying the supplement or the reservation fee. An awful lot of rustling of le Figaro during that little lot, I can tell you.

I’m expecting Brussels, the capital of Europe, to have a glitzy station to rival that of Berlin. I’m in for a disappointment, if not a shock. The three stations in Brussels are shockingly out of date and the Midi Suid Station where I alight is clearly not in a part of town I would wish to linger at night.

I’ve visited the Hotel Amigo seven years ago when it became part of the Rocco Forte Collection and I’ve been looking forward to returning. It´s so close to the Grand Place that it´s almost in it. The sort of place where, by the time you have paid the taxi driver, your bags have already disappeared off to your room.

I’m met by the hotel’s Assistant General Manager, Delphine de Kinder, who gives me a guided tour of my accommodation, together with a map and compass. Well not quite, but the place is certainly bigger than my little Spanish apartment. Rather better furnished too. It´s so high-tech that I have to summons the maintenance man to show me how to operate the TV remote control.

He gently points out that I’ve been trying to operate the television using the one for the DVD player. It´s the first time in over a fortnight that I have managed to catch a glimpse of the BBC´s Olympics coverage.

I’m delighted to discover that the bed is a true King-Sized, unlike many I have experienced on this trip, which are simply two singles pushed together with two single duvets. This has lovely crisp sheets, plumped up feather pillows and a full sized quilt.

I’m delighted that Thalys hasn’t fed me, because Delphine very kindly invites me to dinner in the hotel’s Ristorante Bicconi.

I’m so busy taking photographs of the crudités and pesto dip and the excellent Terre di Ginestra Sicilian wine that the starter course of succulent grilled scallops arrives, so I have to persuade the waiting staff to leave it for me to try. After a really tasty and well-presented steak main course, Delphine and I decide to order the Pistachio Soufflé, only available if two want it. Well, it´s a great choice and simply divine, darling.

The meal, wine, service and company is excellent and I have no trouble in collapsing into my luxurious bed for the sleep of the righteous.