Recently my post brought an invitation to visit some old friends in Brussels.

The last time I went to see them I had flown, very comfortably it is true, but with all the attendant hassle that journeys through airports are heir to.

As I had not had the chance to travel by Eurostar I decided that I would follow recommendations from various friends who said, "Oh it's a wonderful way to travel."

I was fairly laid back about the timing of making the booking as the date was some way ahead, but I happened to be in Hove and thought I would take the chance of going into my favourite travel agent, but found it had changed hands.

No matter, thought I, my car is parked (adventure enough for one day anyway!) I will take advantage of a spare few minutes and get the thing sorted, what a silly billy.

"Good afternoon," said I, "can I book for Eurostar here?"

The astonishing answer was, "Yes you can but if the bill is less than £150 there will be a £10 surcharge."

Somewhat taken aback (since I thought travel agents were there to encourage us to travel) I inquired what this was for and was told it was not worth their while to take the bookings under £150.

I debated going elsewhere, remembered I was parked, thought of the awful parking arrangements at the station, and decided, cravenly to pay the surcharge.

By the time the computer had spoken, the insurance issued (twice because the assistant omitted to ask which age group I fell into and got it wrong the first time) time was getting on.

However, I had got the dates and seats I wanted so don't let's be picky. Out came the credit card to pay.

"That will be a one and half per cent surcharge," came the dulcet tones, "and you do realise the booking is non-refundable and non-changeable don't you?"

Well no, not until that moment I must admit. And what was the surcharge for please? "Company policy," I was told.

"But you've already got my ten pounds surcharge," I protested to no avail. By then my mule-like tendencies were beginning to surface and with all four hooves firmly braced I said, "I'll pay by cheque in that case - I presume there is no law against that is there?" and handed over the lolly.

The final straw came when I was informed I would be notified when the tickets arrived so I could fetch them!

I know our post goes to Gatwick to be sorted but wasn't this taking paranoia too far? I obviously could not blame the assistant who was only carrying out company policy, albeit without much good grace.

Maybe she felt embarrassed, who knows. But I thought that travel agents were supposed to be a service industry.

Not much sign of service here I felt, and with the number of agents touting for our business in Brighton and Hove, some of them individual traders who can't afford to be too cavalier with their customers.

I may be looking elsewhere next time.