Every now and then I go to sleep on the train. I did that on Saturday morning, almost dozing through my connection at York. I sprang into wakefulness as some sixth sense alerted me that we'd arrived (either that or the blaring automated announcement) and still dazed leapt from the train. Then leapt back again a second later when I realised I'd left my jacket behind.
Anyhoo, that's not the point. What I'm trying to say is sometimes I deliberately go to sleep on the train. I've been on the Caledonian Sleeper between England and Scotland (and vice versa) a few times, once from Inverness, once from Fort William and a couple of times from London to Edinburgh. That's where I am at the mo, just out of Euston, wending our way to Waverley station.
The first time I went on a sleeper, however, was simultaneously less and more glamorous. The journey was very romantic, between Paris and Venice no less. Unfortunately I had opted for the cheapest possible option (despite it being only a few more quid for extra space and comfort) and so we were on triple- tiered vinyl covered bunks akin to the back seat of an Austin Maxi. Add to this the soaring temperature of a July night (we had spent the day almost getting sunstroke at Disneyland Paris) and you have of of the most uncomfortable journeys I've ever been on. The only one who was ok was the Winnie- the-Pooh helium balloon we'd got from Disneyland was snug under a blanket to stop it floating off. It went on to spend a day in left luggage in Venice before being set free in the skies above nearby Treviso the next day. A young no1 son was a little upset, but we couldn't take Pooh on the plane so it had to be done.
Tonight's journey seems a tad less fraught. Ideal in fact so I think I'll turn over and go to sleep.
Good night, see you in Edinburgh.
More soonliest.
No comments:
Post a Comment