London St Pancras
My dear parents were there to see me off this morning. We settled down for a hot chocolate to steady the nerves whereupon I realised with some dismay that the ticketI held was for a train half an hour earlier than the one I had booked. I hurriedly downed the sweet froth and headed for check-in. Now, this blog is not for extolling the virtues of train travel, virtuous though it is, because I am not doing this out of some passion for rail bound locomotion. However, check-in at Eurostar make Heathrow seem like hell on Earth, though I believe Satanists do go there to worship the unholy chaos of the festive season, coinciding with industrial action.
Unlike previous trips, however, making it to the train at the very last second (My punctuality is infamous) is now no longer enough. I have to record each event for you, dear readers, listeners and watchers. So, with perhaps a little foreboding, I got off, took some pictures and recorded the sounds of St Pancras.
Through the tunnel I chatted with a smooth silver-haired Frenchman called Jean-Michel about his job, the trip and driving in Paris. For some reason that I can´t fathom, perhaps nervousness because it was my first time, I didn´t record his story about the first time he came to the City of Smashed Tail-Lights, bringing his small car with him, but you´ll just have to believe me when I tell you it was funny.
In the dining car I met George and his friend Charlie. They restored vintage cars in North London and on their way to an automotive exhibition in Paris. George had lost an eye and thumb while polishing a car part but both he and Charlie (A retired firman) were disdainful of current trends in health safety. George was happy to tell his story, having been the subject of an article some years ago written by legendary mountaineer Sir Chris Bonnington. I struggled to live up to George´s expectations of good journalism.
As we got off a few people in the carriage who had heard Jean-Michel and I talking wished me luck. Score one for the optimistic view of humanity.
Labels: bad driving, Eurostar, optimism, parents
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