I know I should have stayed to investigate or relax some more, and I know my rail ticket didn’t expire until August 28, but after a walk on the beach yesterday morning in Zandvoort I’d had enough. I’d go and spend a night in Amsterdam, pick up a pipe for a friend of mine and then head back to England. No, that was too much. I’d have lunch and spend a couple of hours of walking around. That’d do it.

As soon as I walked out of the station, though, and saw the throngs of tourists pushing and dashing around, my heart began to race and I panicked.

 “Screw this, I’m out of here,” I thought. (Actually, I thought something different but am trying not to use foul language and upset folks.) Amsterdam is close to England and I can visit another time (Caroline: get ready for me!).

I paused long enough to pick up some really tacky souvenirs (no pipe, I’m afraid) then headed straight back to the tracks and hopped the next train to Brussels. I’d no doubt have to wait for ages—maybe even stay the night—to get a seat on a train to London that would let me use my discounted Eurostar ticket (if you have an inter rail ticket you get 50% off the price).

After another three trains I arrived in Zandvoort in the Netherlands, my final stop on this trip. I’m completely and utterly knackered, but I made it. Hoorah!

The seaside resort is only 30 km from Amsterdam and can be reached directly by train (twice an hour). It’s like Brighton without the pebbly beach or Blackpool without the pleasure beach. It’s cold and windy, like England, and people are wrapped up in beach towels and jackets, trying to make the most of their vacation at the seaside. The braver folks (read crazy) lay out in their bathing suits hoping to catch the tiny slither of sunshine fighting to break through the clouds.

I walked into the town center (all of two minutes away from The Best Western), passed the rows of houses advertising available rooms–and the magic mushroom shop–and picked up a little punnet of freshly caught and fried cod (more food…) being sold on the sea front.

Sitting on one of the benches overlooking the rough, frigid sea, I celebrated my accomplishment of completing Europe On An Alphabet. I sat alone and watched the kite surfers jumping up and through the waves. Seagulls screached above and dog shit dotted the pavement.

Well, I made it. A bit of an anti-climax but nonetheless.