Have I mentioned how I absolutely detest driving through tunnels? There I sit in the passenger’s seat – two 3.00 mm needles, each with knitted ruffle of slippery yarn valiantly trying to escape as I attempt to join the two into one when darkness abruptly falls and the stitches sing in joy as they fly off the needle.
That is an incredibly long tunnel thought which the 81 leaving Stuttgart bores through a rather significant mountain. I experienced somewhat similar joy earlier Sun morning when staying left meant a trip through one of the hills surrounding Stuttgart on our way to picking up Ms Maus and cousin.
For whatever reason, the driver was anxious to get home. After delaying him as much as I could, we stopped to get the girls. It was early and of course they were not ready having gotten home so late that it was morning from graduation celebrations. Traffic was horrendous on the way home with getting stuck in Staus here and there till we were almost home.
Did I mention the tunnel? Of course I did. Still managed to get one scarf finished and a second one started.
Still, these are nothing like the tunnels of Switzerland or Austria through the Alps where you swear you have become a gnome never to see the light of day again as kilometer after kilometer passes. I have managed a few of those, preferably asleep so that I can not feel tons of mountain over my head.
Being on a ship, inside, under the water line doesn’t bother me – there are clearly marked escape routes which might/might not work but you are never more than 150 meters in worst case from the open air. A tunnel? Forever from the open air and kilometers of stairs facing you. That is, of course, if the stairs were actually available for it seems to me that whatever would take out the tunnel should effectively trash the escape routes.
Does that explain why I never have taken the Chunnel?