The People's Convoy - Day 2 Brussels to Passau
Today was all about Paul.
It started with trying to find him - and we all had a go. But sleep deprivation had taken it's toll and he was having the sleep of the comatosed. Good catch up sleep.
First if was Mark who bravely ventured into the room. Realising that banging on the door was not going to do it, Mark found a willing 'chambermaid' to open the door and there he was. Paul was in the land of nod, with kit interestingly placed around the room. Not sure what happened the night before when he went to sleep whislt a gremlin entered the room and emptied the contents of his bag around the room. Those pesky gremlins.
Imagine the confused scene Mark - a 6ft 2 strapping young lad - stood in the room towering over the unsuspecting sleeping war reporter in all his vulnerablilty. Paul's repsonse to MArk trying to rouse him was - why is it still night? The whole solar system is screwed up.
Er no it's 8 am. The curtains were drawn and it was a dark pre-Christmas morn so no wonder he was so disorientated.
Mark returned to breakfast triumphant that he'd succssed in waking the giant.
We sat there and Rola arrived. Ken and myself were already working on a our third coffees. Our 8.30 am departure plan wasn't going to happen today. I was kind of secretly grateful. Thank you Paul - I was exhausted.
Rola decided it was time to act. She was less sublte - the door was getting a pounding. And please not it was a Sunday morning in the holiday period so Paul's neighbours had no chance of a lie in.
Eventually he awoke, with a painful leg and still in need of more sleep. But coffee was going to help and we would guide Paul to car. I found a way to make a bed in the car - a moment of triumph as it was a bit worrying to think about Paul sitting for long periods with a painful leg - sustained form the horrific injuries he got when he was last in Syria. That devastating attack that left his collegue and friend, Marie Colvin dead.
The rest of the day was uneventful - driving on a motorway, stopping at service stations and contemplating in our own worlds. But the story of Paul and him not knowing if it was night or day and the varying attempts to get him out of bed kept us jolly all the way to Passau.