The train’s the thing

A month or so ago, I mentioned that Mrs FEEG and I had survived each others’ peculiarities for forty years. In order to celebrate this (s)auspicious occasion, we tried to relive our honeymoon. We went to  Paris for this. Then we went by rickety old electric train from London Charing Cross to Folkestone (An anorak friend of mine says that in the earlier seventies  it would have been a 4-CEP multiple unit),  by hovercraft to Calais, then in a rickety old diesel hauled train to Paris Gare du Nord.

This time, it was a bit easier, going by Eurostar from Saint Pancras to Gare du Nord, in a somewhat more rapid and comfortable manner!  At the time  we first went, Mrs FEEG joked that it was a shame the Orient Express was not running any longer, as we could have gone by that!

As luck would have it, a British company restarted running the Orient Express somewhen in the eighties. As the anniversary loomed up, I thought about it, and after a few subtle questions, established she would still like to travel on the Orient Express, so I duly booked us two return tickets on the train, going all the way to Venice, and a couple of nights stay over in Venice.

Come the day we were booked we arrived at London Victoria with plenty of time to check in, left all of our luggage, of which more later,  and waited around for a bit and had coffee in the station Starbucks (yes, I know!)

We caught the British Pullman from Victoria to Folkestone (I am told by my anorak friend that it was a class 66 diesel pulling it),  and had a splendid lunch on board. We then transferred to a luxury coach (well six actually, there were quite a few people booked on the trip) that then drove onto the Shuttle, and transferred us through the Tunnel and drove to Calais Ville Station. Waiting for us there was this long line of Wagon Lits carriages, and, as importantly, three restaurant cars and a bar car! We were met by our steward for the trip who showed us to the cabin we were to sleep in on the overnight part of the trip. A bit bijou, but if was cleverly designed so that in the daytime, there was a very comfortable sofa type train seat, and while we were at dinner, the steward converted it to an upper and lower bunk bed.

We were given odd snacks and breakfast in this cabin, but dinner and lunch were more formal and in the one of the restaurant cars. It was formal dining and I had to wear (horror of horrors) a suit and tie, an unnatural thing to do for an old software engineer. Mrs FEEG was, of course, in her element and poshed herself up for the occasion.

The food and service was out of this world, and was so good.  I have no idea how the chefs managed to produce such good food in such cramped conditions. The wine list went from very good medium priced ones to absolutely silly priced ones,

A couple of digestifs later and we were ready for bed. Going back to the cabin, we found everything made up and ready. Going to the bog was a bit tricky, especially when the train was moving fast, as the toilets were at either end of each carriage. We got dressing gowns and slipper so it was not too embarrassing though.

We finally arrived in Venice and, having stayed there before in a hotel near the station, we knew where to go. It was on this short walk that I found the true horror of Mrs FEEG’s luggage. The idea was that you should take a holdall for things you need on the journey, plus a suit carrier for the posher things in your wardrobe and a separate case that went in a luggage van that was not available on the journey, but contained items for the return journey and the stay in Venice.

When I tried to lift Mrs FEEG’s holdall up,  I nearly ruptured myself and damaged my manky knee still further. I am sure it exceeded the standard airline weight for hold luggage. It turned out she had packed just about all the contents of the bathroom, dressing table and toiletry bag, there being no weight restriction. Up until then, it had been handled by taxi drivers or porters. I am still waiting for the compensation claims.  While in Venice, where we had a very good time and visited some sights we had not seen before, a reorganisation took place.  Various toiletries etc. were recategorised from “absolutely essential”  to “might be useful once in a blue moon” and put in the wheeled cases for the return journey.

The return journey was just as enjoyable and over indulgent and we many good conversations with our fellow travellers. When we got the Pullman from Folkestone, it was pulled by the engine that normally pulls the Royal Train. Very posh. This time we had a rather splendid high tea on board.

All in all, it was definitely a memorable trip, and was worth the rather large amount of money it cost.  Just the credit card statement for the bar bill to come now. 🙂