Saturday at the border we met a welcoming committee of two stiff-backed gentlemen in peaked caps, one with a trim French moustache, the other with a clipped accent and both blessed with a keen sense of curiosity. Their searching glances were the preliminaries to what promised to be an exhaustive inquiry. Our hand luggage, jackets and wallets were turned out, inspected and patted down with finger-tip precision. Still entertaining the possibility that our tousled appearance might be caused by something stronger than Chimay, Trim-tache and Clipped-accent told us to ‘ouvrelevoiture,’ only to be greeted by the spectacle in the photo a left. Faced with the choice of unpacking Lucas’s flat or sending us on our way… they sold us a road-tax sticker and welcomed us to Switzerland.