So What Sort of Profile Do I Fit?

Synchronicity: the experience of two or more events that are apparently causally unrelated occurring together in a meaningful manner. To count as synchronicity, the events should be unlikely to occur together by chance. - Carl Jung.

Germany was very good, so good in fact that I will possibly post about it sometime, anyway the spirit of Bill Hicks was invoked when I arrived at Euro tunnel for the penultimate leg of my tortuous journey home. I arrived at the terminal some eight hours ahead of schedule (don't ask) and decided to find out what was the earliest shuttle I could take using my e-ticket, I was booked on the 8:20 shuttle (local time) and it was now 12:30 p.m. I entered my details on the computer and was given two choices, pay £69 (my ticket had already cost £69) and take the 13:33 or pay £4 and take the 14:02 - no brainer eh? So I take my receipt and work my way around the one way system except at one point I take a wrong turn and find myself in the queue for French and then British Customs Control!

At British Customs woman looks through my passport a head pops out of the booth and asks where I have travelled from, "Germany, then through..."
"Where in Germany?"
"Lubeck, Leipzig, Duisburg."
"Can you go to Garage Two please."

Okay, I don't have a problem with this, after all in the days when we had the Peugeot Estate every trip out of the U.K was met with the request to open the boot. When Nathalie was smaller and carried more stuff for holidays I once opened the boot and the Customs Officer, adopting the persona of Al Murrays Pub Landlord remarked, "It's a work of art that Sir," as he surveyed suitcases, holdalls, surf board, football etc.

At Garage Two I'm met by a young female Customs officer, she smiles and begins the questions.

"Can you tell me where you've been Sir?"
"Lubeck, Leipzig, Duisburg then down through Holland, Belgium and here."
"Are you bringing anything back with you from those places?"
"There's some chocolate from Germany for my wife and daughter, frankfurters for my daughter and a bottle of German Cinzano for my wife."
"What did you visit those places you mentioned for?"
"Well I went to Lubeck to photograph the buildings, I've always been interested in Northern European architecture and the Hansa towns."
"What about the other places?"
"Leipzig? I went as a tourist."
"What did you do there?"
"I visited churches, museums, I went to the Stasi museum."
"What's that about?"
"The Stasi."
"What's the Stasi? Sorry Sir, you'll have to excuse my ignorance, I've not heard of it."
"Well it was the secret service of the old GDR, East Germany. State spies basically."
"Oh I see. Can you tell me why your wife isn't with you."
"My Daughter was 16 on Sunday and there was a sleepover, she stayed for that."
"I bet you're popular."
"Possibly not."
"How long ago did you book this trip?"
"1st January, but I've been thinking about it for years. Finally did something about it."
"Is this your car?"
"No, company car."
"Do you have the registration document?"
"Yes, reg document and letter of authority."
She looks at the registration document which is in a document wallet with all my travel details. "And what do your employers do?"
"Accountants. I'm an audit manager."
"How did you travel to Europe?"
"Ferry from Harwich to the Hook then up the A1 via Bremen and Hamburg to Lubeck."
"Do you have any proof of that?"
"Sure," I pull out the Stena Line e-ticket, my cabin key also has my name on it and that is in the document wallet.
"Can you just wait here please Sir."
She goes away and come back about five minutes later.
"Why did you travel via Harwich and Holland?"
"Because I was working on the day I travelled so it was easier to drive to Harwich, sleep on the ferry and then drive from Holland. If I came this way I would have had to stop somewhere near Eindhoven and then have a long drive. It was easier the other way."
"Do you travel abroad much?"
"Once or twice a year, usually take the Western Channel route to Cherbourg or St.Malo. I'm going to Paris twice this year by train."
"Can you open the boot please."
I pull the switch in the car and the boot opens, there's a suitcase, black bin bag containing my washing, sports bag, a pair of walking boots, work shoes and a pillow, plus my photographic equipment (tripod, monopod, reflector). She looks at the suitcase which is locked and padlocked.
"Can you open this for me please Sir," she says indicating the suitcase.
I go to the front of the car, unzip one of the pockets in my camera bag which has two suitcase keys in it. Now everyday on my holiday so far I've had trouble opening the case because one of the keys is for another case and I've tried that one first each time. I go to the back of the car insert the key and it opens first time.
"Bugger me," I say, "my wife's idea - two keys in case one of us loses theirs, each time I've done this for the past eight days it's been the wrong key. You're obviously good luck, I should have asked you to come with me."
She gives me one of those smiles that women do when they want to appear courteous whilst internally loathing you. She opens the case and rakes over the clothes and spots my two German guide books, "Ah, your guidebooks," she says with reassuringly good observational skills.
"You said you've been taking photographs, can I see some?"
I get my camera from the front and switch it on and press the preview button. The first photograph to appear is one of the Nikolaikirche in Leipzig.
"Where's that Sir?"
I tell her adding, "That's where prayer meetings took place from 1982 to 1989 and which led to the collapse of the GDR through peaceful means rather than the expected civil war."
I feel like I'm giving her a mini lecture on European history.
"Oh right." She actually looks genuinely interested. "Any others?"
I daren't tell her I have taken about 400 photographs fearing it could be a long afternoon discussing German political history. I press the backwards button and the last photograph of my German holiday appears, it simply adds to the whole weirdness vibe that is prevailing.
"Where's that Sir?"
"That's Marienborn. That was the largest border crossing between the old Germany's. Checkpoint Alpha."
"Okay, you can put the camera away now and close the boot, I'll be back in a minute."
True to her word she returns a minute later and tells me I can go and to have a safe journey.

Now because I had taken the wrong turn which caused me to be at Customs half an hour earlier than anticipated I am in the queue for the earlier shuttle (the additional £69 if you have been following closely!) and find myself back in England even earlier than anticipated.

Oh and if the Synchronicity bit at the start is too cryptic, and I know it is, it's because as I sat on the shuttle somewhere under the English Channel the first words that came into my head as I thought about my encounter with the British Border Police were "No One Is Innocent," which I have always associated with Malcolm McLaren (22 January 1946 – 8 April 2010).