Swaying from side to side, like a baby being treated like a baby by someone that once watched a cartoon about how to hold a baby, I slept with one eye open. The Caledonian Sleeper sounds like something from an Agatha Christie novel - the name of a murderer who attacks during slumber.
There was no murder, apart from the pig that made my complimentary bacon roll as I stumbled out onto Euston station at 6.30am. How strange to fall asleep in one country and wake in another. Like a visceral Christmas, only without the tangerine.
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AuthorIt's me, Pippa Evans! Archives
February 2017
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