Guilty of ritual governance in my life. Never been on the Orient Express or Rovos (oh please one day!), mais have indulged in my halcyon imaginings on the Eurostar that takes me from London to Paris. Repeat, London to Paris …
Not going to muddy the fantasy with past tales of stuck the the tunnel. Not going there. It is a gorgeous experience, now upgraded and wi-fi, movie and music options. Indulging time.
Sleek. Why the love dream with the Eurostar? First, the leaving from St. Pancras. Architectural stage set, one already feels special when you step into this building. They should give five minute tours on the history of St. Pancras. Confession that for years before corrected, I did call it St. Pancreas. Then there is the, for me, the tradition of always meeting up with my travelling companions at Le Pain ….. LPQ if one wants less flowery mispronunciation. To get into the French way of doing, going to Paris, France you understand. Seduced by Croissants and bread we should not eat, cups without handles and ze french accent in the air.
Secondly, there are these two magnificent cities – Eurostar is the Fixer, bringing the two together without the humdrum and dishevelling of airport security and stress, stress, stress. Things move rather rapidly depending on the choice of bank holiday, group tour, time of train option you carefully avoid.
Thirdly, you are sitting in a decent seat. The ‘not plaiting your knees into your hair’ sort of seat – morph seat. All you need then, is diary, music, coffee (or wine), the dreamy expression and let the Silver Tube take you under.
The upgraded Silver Eurofish has a few other plus points. Let’s talk toilets with simple how to for idiots like me who fears the touching of anything in toilets on public transport – take easier reading of coach numbers (I was the one you saw with her nose against the side of the train unable to read the coach number and the same goes for inside) – take more luggage space for those who make a weekend in Paris a removal of their house excursion (hate, hate those coffin carriers) and a few other simple things I forget but enjoyed at the time.
Not so good yet? One attendant for the dining (spot the ‘dining’) carriage and a snake of people who just look silly. We lined up against the wall, then had to sort of decide where to stand next and ended up like a group of toddlers hanging onto an imaginary rope reading for an outing. Not good.
The Internet is unpredictable but she is a novice in this exercise and I am a patient person, for now anyway.
Hell I love that bursting upon French soil with light affirmity.
Silver Style. Silver Star – now to wish an upgrade at Gare du Nord please. Then all is Silver lining.