My favourite way to travel to London is by sleeper train.
It gives me a sense of how Harry Potter felt when he pushed his trunk and owl-laden trolley into the other world of platform 9 3/4.
Instead of being pursued by a vast bearded man on an enchanted motorbike though, I just need to book a ticket on the Caledonian Sleeper. (Not that the former sounds all that bad, it’s just that going online is probably quicker and quieter.)
Ticket in hand, you can stand by Costa Coffee mustering yourself for the adventure. And then, in an instant, you’re out of the mayhem of Glasgow Central Station – particularly colourful on a Saturday evening, in fact JK Rowling may have had this very place in mind when she created her more diabolical characters – and into somewhere magical.
It’s quiet and you are greeted by smiles, uniforms and clipboards. “This way, madam.” And there’s the dinkiest pack of “essentials” – I so want to have the kind of life where pillow spray, redolent of summer fields, is an essential.
The sheets are tight and cool and there’s somewhere for everything. Even a little hook for your watch, just there. Sigh.
But first, the lounge car. Courteous and hushed. If I was a gentleman, with a club, I couldn’t feel more at home.
The motion of the train is soothing. If Silver Cross made adult versions (maybe they do, but that’s probably a bit specialist) it would feel like this. All squeaky creaks and jostles.
Before you know it, someone is handing you a bacon roll and it’s chill and misty on the platform.
A few minutes later, through the barrier, and someone bumps into you between Accessorise and the perpetually unattended information booth as you try to work out which direction to strike out in.
https://www.sleeper.scot/
