Sleeper trains are great. And quite weird at the same time.
Upon arrival you have to 'check in' with the clipboard-wielding conductor. You drag your luggage inside and the cabins – 'berths' – are lined up along one side of a coach, leaving a tiny corridor to squeeze down. Inside your cabin there is barely room to turn around. The walls and fixtures are a brutal lilac-blue. There are mirrors and hangers; compartments and fold out trays; a bottle of water and a top notch washing kit.
The Lounge Car is much more like the romantic ideal. Red drapes and soft lighting (though sadly no black/white flooring). Chairs that aren't fixed to the floor – an amazingly jarring experience on a train. A waiter taking your orders. I horsed some bolognese and an unnecessary half-bottle of wine before retiring.
On no account travel less than first class on a sleeper. I wouldn't want to contemplate the farcical indignity of managing a top bunk in such an enclosed space. Thankfully the beds are long enough for lanky punters like me.
Sleep itself is not sound on your first trip, though I suspect it improves with practice. Trains are noisy and move like crap fairground rides. They lean and wobble and creak and clunk; fluids gurgle. Exactly like sleeping in the belly of a machine. With the conductor promising to wake you up with vigorous knocking – at your desired time, with tea, a bacon roll and The Scotsman – I only kept one earplug in. The advantages of asymmetrical hearing.
Finally at London Euston – feeling pretty tired – the absolute need for first class becomes clear as you stroll into the Virgin lounge. Comfy chairs, wireless internet, showers. In my case the towels had run out, leaving only the option of a head-to-toe hairdryer marathon. This is a strangely Zen experience that I recommend.
23-Nov-06 at 11:15 am | Permalink
I’m amused that your romantic ideal is first class and drapes and soft lighting while mine is deck class, a park bench or a dirty station bar.