Agreed.
Especially my own.
I’d rather be an hour early than one minute late.
Probably stems from a summer holiday around 1963, when we arrived at Dover for a ferry to Boulogne, France, about five minutes short of the required “45 minutes before sailing”.
We ended up in a long line of vehicles caught the same way, and spent the next 36 hours waiting for something to happen, no information no food, no drinks, until the whole queue was led across to the Western Dock, where we were sent aboard a railway ferry that took us to Dunkerque, arriving about 8pm.
