I found my couchette and it was in total blackout. At first I thought I had the compartment to myself so I attempted to stow my rucksack on the bottom bunk but it was immediately kicked off by its invisible occupant. I climbed into bed embarrassed but relieved to be finally on the move.
At the next station, Carcassonne, the sixth occupant of the compartment arrived and I had to move my rucksack yet again. This time the person below me helped to guide my heavy luggage into a slot where it would be in nobody's way.
And then complete darkness and the sounds of people sleeping around me as the train sped along through the night. I may have nodded off, I may not. I liked the way the train slid me headwards and footwards as it rocketed around bends. When it did make stops it seemed to be motionless for hours. At one of those stops I got up to use the loo and found the train doors wide open and lots of passengers standing around taking a fag break. At another, after daybreak, there was a long tannoy announcement I didn't fully understand but I got the feeling that we were being provided with sustenance because we were so badly delayed. Sure enough, piles of little cardboard boxes were stacked up at the end of each carriage and we were to help ourselves. It was a strange box to open so early in the day: a bottle of water, a tub of tabouleh, a carton of apple juice, a rusk, a tiny packet of coconut biscuits and a tiny packet of mini-pretzels. I assume that it had all been selected to contain no allergens and be completely vegan as well as being just what might be needed by diabetics with no access to food for too many hours. I was impressed and grateful.
I spoke with the chef de train and told her I was concerned about missing my connection. She assured me that Eurostar would put me on the next train to London.
We finally arrived in Paris at 11:04, almost 4 hours behind schedule. I was so glad I had bought my metro tickets on my outward journey because the queues for the ticket machines were unbelievable. I got to Gare du Nord as quickly as I could and let it be known I had missed my train and to my utter relief, I was fast-tracked onto the very next train, which meant that I was pulling out of Paris shortly after mid-day.
It was lovely to get an unobstructed view of the French countryside, but it was with such a sense of relief when we emerged into the sunlight in Kent. I recognised this from above and so looked out to see Rochester castle and the spire of the cathedral whoosh by. Coming up on the north side of the Thames I saw billowing clouds of black and brown smoke which turned out to be Wennington.
And then finally at St Pancras I was greeted by this notice to tell me I wasn't going to complete my journey today.
Thank heaven that my mum still lives in south London where the trains were still running and yes she was home and no there was nothing she would rather do than welcome her exhausted daughter.
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