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Hundreds more troops are being deployed to help clear the backlog of carriers that have been stuck in Kent since Sunday.
Transportation Secretary Grant Shapps has said the government is doing “everything it can” to try to get drivers home at Christmas and has sent “special instructions to the Army to take control of test operations and heavy vehicle management “.
But Duncan Buchanan, director of policy for the Road Haulage Association (RHA), has warned that several drivers will face spending Christmas Day in their taxis.
Sky News reporter Sadiya Chowdhury has been speaking with some of the stranded drivers.
It’s so quiet on the Dover boardwalk that you wouldn’t know there are about 200 frustrated truck drivers here.
Further down the road there are more people honking at the entrance to the ferry port with reports of vehicles trying to enter.
But along Old Folkestone Road, opposite the viaduct, they wait in silence in their taxis.
Thousands of truckers they are trapped at the border in Dover. Its vehicles have moved just a few meters in four days.
The port is in sight, but with the rows of queues joining at the top, they may still be waiting a long time.
A group of Polish drivers go out for cigarettes.
“This is just politics,” says one of them. “EU vs. Great Britain … no coronavirus.”
Are they talking about Brexit? I ask, and a series of grunts echo in agreement.
Marcin is desperate to get back to his family, who live near Warsaw.
“My wife keeps calling me to ask if there is any news. I have nothing new to tell her,” he says.
For some Polish families, Christmas Eve is a more important occasion than Christmas Day, so I want to know how it feels to spend this time alone and wait for a COVID test. Suddenly, you are not ready to answer any more questions.
David is from Spain and speaks very little English, but with the help of a photo he tells me that he has two children, ages 10 and 4.
He gestures to the front of the queue. “What can I do? I have to wait for a test.”
“I just want to go home,” she adds, while revealing a very common Christmas wish around here.
Our talk is interrupted by the oath of a local woman towards the drivers.
“It’s not his fault,” I offer, as his volume skyrockets.
David goes back to his taxi and closes the door. Reject my request for a photo.
Maten has family on board.
He and Medekha sit next to each other and speak rapidly in French.
“Christmas?” I ask. They confer.
“Here, probably,” says Maten. “We are from Belgium so we don’t think we will get home by Christmas.”
Keep points inside the cabin.
“This, just this. This is where we will spend Christmas,” he says.
I catch Tsvetan as he dusts his taxi, unhappy at having to pay £ 89 in parking fees.
But when I mention a traditional Bulgarian Christmas, her face lights up: “Maybe I’ll get home in time.”
At that moment, as if by a Christmas miracle, the tail begins to wag.
“I have to go,” he says and hurries back to the driver’s seat to roll his truck forward.
It moves at such a slow pace that I walk with it.
“Can I take a picture of you?” Scream.
“Yes Yes!” screeches, before you park your truck, jump in and give a thumbs up for the camera.