In which the best part of the train trip was the train

I have a feeling that I am not going to be as good a travel blogger on this trip as I was last time around. Partly because (so far) I feel less prolific and inspired, for the moment, at least. And partly because last time I was not obsessed with reading the Twilight series.* (Although I just finished New Moon—after starting it yesterday, 563 pages consumed like a carton of ice cream, one delicious, addictive bowlful after the next—so unless I go out and buy a copy of Eclipse, I'm off the stuff until I get home.)

Yesterday was pretty much lost to travel and recovery. We landed in London at midday, got to the hotel around 1:30 or so, and ended up resting away a good part of the afternoon (and starting New Moon). It was all I could do to get up at 3:30 or 4:00. I had that sick, heavy feeling you get after napping too long—but I hadn't slept very much, so I think it was just the opposite, my body was still craving more rest.

I went downstairs** and convinced my mother we need to go out for a bit. At the very least we needed to find something for dinner. So we took a walk down Marchmont Street to the Brunswick Center. This used to*** be a rather dingy shopping center with a Safeway and a few shops, but some years ago it was refurbished with a shiny new Waitrose supermarket and a bunch of nicer shops and restaurants, including a Starbucks.

We made a circuit around the shops—nothing called my name—and headed into Waitrose to ogle the English foodstuffs. Grocery stores are good entertainment, and I thought we might pick up some dinner there as well. They had a tasty looking selection of prepared sandwiches and salads (which we ended up getting), but first we took a tour around the store, salivating over the variety of cakes and sweets and biscuits, not to mention all the varieties of cream.****

That was pretty much the extent of our outing. Oh, except that I used the Cash Point by Waitrose to get pounds with my newly acquired debit card. You just put in a secret number and it spits out money, can you imagine that? Yes, I realize I'm living a little behind the times.

So much for the first day in London. The rest of the evening was eating, watching TV (nothing good on), reading, and eventually sleeping.

One thing that we did accomplish Tuesday night was making a bit of a plan for Wednesday. Although we are not the rail travel addicts that my father is, my mother and I decided to go on one train trip with him to max out our rail passes (good for travel on four days, three of which are already committed to getting to Bath, Penzance, and eventually back to London). We agreed to go to Carlisle, which is near the Scottish border, and a long ride on the Virgin train line.

Wednesday morning I was up pretty early, just after 6:00, to go running. This was the first time I'd been in London with my Garmin watch, so finally I had a way to really measure those elusive distances. The first thing I learned was that it is almost exactly a quarter mile from the Harlingford Hotel to Euston Station (by way of the Woburn Walk shortcut). This is good to know for purposes of going to Euston Station, but not much of a run! Good thing I wasn't stopping there.

Next, on to Regent's Park along Euston Road. Yet another conveniently measured distance—a mile from the hotel to the east entrance of the park. That's pretty much what I had expected all along, maybe a little on the shy side. The big question has always been the distance around or through the park. In the past I've spent a lot of time searching the web for the definitive answer on how far it is around Regent's Park. The problem is, that depends on exactly what route you take! Today I started out on the outer circle, but eventually ended up on the perimeter outside of the park. I followed that outer sidewalk past the London Zoo, where I turned back into the park and followed the Broad Walk back to the east gate. The distance for that circuit, by the way, was 2.6 miles. The return trip to the hotel brought me to about 4.7 miles. Even though it was getting late, I didn't want to stop until I hit five miles. So I took an extra turn around the crescent and added a couple blocks at the other end, managing to end up at the doorstep of the hotel just after hitting 5.0. (Today's pictures from Regent's Park here. For a summer visit to Regent's Park, check out this love letter post from 2007!)

I managed to zip in and out of the shower in record time (not too hard when the shower consists of a mere dribble, nothing you want to linger in), and get dressed and dry my hair (no curling iron with me) by 8:15. Just enough time for a small bite***** in the dining room before heading to Euston Station to catch the train.

As I was selecting my clothes I realized (once again) that despite my packing dramas, I really could happily get by the whole trip by wearing just what I wore today.****** Which was jeans and a slightly gathered Lilla P charcoal grey long-sleeved T with a tissue weight black turtleneck underneath (which could be eliminated on warmer days). Add my khaki jacket (which I didn't use today), and a pair of easy black pants in case I don't want to wear jeans, and I would be set. And probably happy. And not carrying such a heavy suitcase! Oh well. I'm going to wear something different tomorrow anyway.

At Euston we got our rail passes validated then waited for our platform number to be posted. About half an hour before departure time, Platform 13 was announced and we surged to the gate.

As we were about to hop onto a first class carriage, an attendant advised us that the whole car was booked for a football team, and we should go to the next car. So we did. Then in that car, a well-dressed gentleman told us that carriage was reserved for the football team. As was the next. This was quite frustrating, as he directed us back to the original car we'd been turned away from! He assured us it had all been sorted, so we sat in seats marked reserved and hoped we didn't get thrown off the train (we didn't) or out of our seats (ditto).

Our biggest coup in this day of train travel was that we ate all our meals for free. In addition to whatever breakfast anyone had had at the hotel, complimentary meals came with the seats. I ordered the English Breakfast, as I'd “only” had a bite at the hotel. Then at around noon, the trolley came around with sandwiches. We weren't hungry yet but each took one for later.

Of course, where we would eat became a question when we arrived to rain in Carlisle. A wet bench hardly seemed appealing! Nor did Carlisle, as we marched around in the heavy drizzle. I may have become a bit snappish. I cheered up, however, upon spotting a Starbucks. Not so much for the coffee, but for a warm, dry place to hang out, maybe eat lunch.

Which is in fact what we did, taking our drinks upstairs where we ate sandwiches, read, and whiled away some of the afternoon. My dad eventually left to go check out a museum, but my mother and I were content to lounge in the armchairs (and, for me, read New Moon). At 3:15 we met up to head back to the station and catch the 3:49 train to London.*******

Once on the train, out came the sandwich trolley again! But not being complete pigs, and after ascertaining that they would be serving a hot dinner later on, we passed on this round of food. We partook instead at 6:00, for the dinner service. My mother and I opted for the smoked salmon and sundried tomato rigatoni (it was yum), and my father went all modest with an egg salad sandwich. Both of which were followed by a tasty chocolate mousse dessert. (And if I need a late night snack, I have a strawberry muffin tucked in my bag!) (Pictures from the train trip here.)

The train route passed sort of through the Lake District, and although we saw no lakes, the views from the train were scenic. I had not been anywhere near the Lake District since an ill-fated stopover after law school. It was in August, which is a bad time to go to England period, but even worse for the Lake District, which is overrun by tourists (including the English) at the best of times... and August is not the best of times. I haven't been back since, although I did see Miss Potter (while I was in England in 2007, as a matter of fact). If I ever were to go to the Lakes again, I would want a car to get off the beaten track (if there is any unbeaten track), and I would probably avoid the height of summer!

We got back into London around 7:30 p.m., and the quarter mile to the hotel seemed a lot longer at the end of a long day than it did in the morning! Since we are boring quiet folk, we were quite happy to end the day there. Leave the pub crawling and theatre going to the young. Or at least the ones who weren't up at 6:00 to go running.


*Thanks, Corey, for introducing me to this paperback crack. You know what this leads to, don't you? The hard stuff—hardbacks.

**My parents are on the second floor and I am on the third floor (which in American translation means third and fourth). There is a huge difference. To get to my tiny little single room garret at the very furthest reaches of the hotel you have to climb an additional narrow, winding flight of stairs. I don't mind the stairs but it is a pain to haul suitcases up and down them! But I intentionally chose to have that room. I wanted a room facing the street and garden square below (way below), and the only lower level front side single room was described by the desk clerk as “very small”—and that's saying something. My only serious regret about the remote room is that the wireless signal does not reach up there. So I have to go down to the lobby, or at least a landing, to access email and the internet. Which is a royal pain.

***When I was in college.

****A foodaholic's dream.

*****Okay, two small scones with butter and jam, and some tinned grapefruit. I love tinned grapefruit.

******Which I am about to describe. Even though this is not that blog.

*******Which was an earlier train than we had planned. But I had no real desire to stay in Carlisle longer. There were tons of restaurants, but we weren't looking for food. There were shops (which we eventually did find), but nobody had a yen for shopping. The historical and scenic areas seemed rather inaccessible this early in the year, not to mention unappealing in the weather. Carlisle is a nice enough town, but it is a big town, and other than London, Bath, and certain other wonderful English cities, I really prefer the villages. Which are pretty inaccessible by train. But we do enjoy the train trips!