In my early twenties I slept at New Street Birmingham all night after missing last train to South Wales, on a chair in some sort of waiting room the guard keeping an eye on me occasionally. Sleeping on a patch of grass in Chartres when everything was OCCUPE. We were woken by a gendarme and saw we were in front of a memorial (hadn't seen it in the dark). He checked our passports and directed us to Chartres Cathedral where we spent a couple of hours listening to nuns singing before things opened up.
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