How I wish they hadn't moved the Eurostar station from Waterloo to St Pancras. It means I have to haul the big suitcase (made for two) down to the Northern Line, changing at Leicester Square for the Piccadilly Line and then, finally, hot, sweaty and bruised, emerge at St Pancras.
Of course, it's a million times better than catching a plane to Paris. Two hours and 15 minutes after leaving, we're relaxing in our hotel room. Bliss.