A Train of Thought

“I'll go on holiday with you, uncle, on one condition.”

Jessica's fiery tones take me by surprise. So, is the little minx dictating terms now?

“Let's hear it”, I say.

“That we don't fly but travel by rail.”

If there is a quality that I admire in this young lady is her steadfast convictions. There is no doubt that she is concerned about the perilous state of our planet.

“Lower carbon emissions; I've got you”, I concede, “no problem.”

She's worked out a possible route. Which she outlines:

“Eurostar from London to Paris; Paris to Geneva, Lausanne, Visp and Zermatt. There we can catch the Glacier Express to Andermatt.”

“It sounds like a long and slow journey”, I point out.

“Roughly twelve hours”, she interjects, “if we want to do it in one go, more if we take it in stages.”

I can follow her train of thought and I discern a Machiavellian tactic in her plan.

Making a few stops on the way, would give her many opportunities.

To visit the Rive Gauche by the Seine; indulge in a pot of smooth cheese fondue in Geneva or, in Lausanne, to roam the shops-lined streets of the hilly old medieval city.

Well, why not?

The idea begins to appeal to me. We both have a lot of time on our hands, she having finished her variety act with a theatre touring company and I without any commitments other than attending a traditional gentlemen club that had, up to now, admitted women only as guests but was now, refreshingly, changing its policy.

This has pleased Jessica who is a fervent advocate for equality.

◊ ◊ ◊

Apart from checking the passports and making sure there are plenty of funds available – credit cards and bank balance - there is nothing else for us to do.

Having chosen the dates, the nitty-gritty of booking the trip can be safely left to a reputable High Street travel agency.

◊ ◊ ◊

Everything has so far gone like clockwork and we should soon be starting the first stage of our journey, leaving St. Pancras on Eurostar Premier and be heading for the Gare du Nord in Paris.

We reckoned that 7.55 was a sensible time of departure as we will arrive in the French capital well before lunchtime, if there are no delays.

Jessica is eager to see the river Seine, which we learn from a travel guide is about thirty-five minutes walk from the station and the Eiffel Tower. But the latter is further away and it may be wiser to use some sort of transport, a taxi or the Metro. And preferably after lunch.

I scrutinise the guide for good restaurants or bistros in the vicinity. I want to sample, and hopefully enjoy, the local cuisine.

I see the beginning of a mischievous smile on Jessica's lips, usually a sign that she's up to no good, and I wonder what kind of devilry she's concocting.

© Luigi Pagano 2020

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