Paris to London and the TGV

I have always enjoyed travelling by train; whether it takes a couple of minutes between little towns in Oxfordshire, or an overnight journey along the east coast of America, it never seems a chore. One of the things I love about France is the TGV (Train a Grande Vitesse) network. For a Brit it truly is remarkable to be able to travel on land from Paris to Avignon in around three hours, especially when one considers the time (and cost) it takes to make a comparable voyage in the UK such as London to Edinburgh.  The TGV, in the guise of the Eurostar, has always been my preferred method of well not hopping across, but rather burrowing under the channel. Napoleon once said that, despite his failure to cross it, the Channel was “merely a ditch” and that somebody would easily be able to traverse it when they took the task on with enough seriousness. Napoleon’s words may well be scoffed at now by my fellow countrymen considering how this meager stretch of water has played a significant role in keeping out unwanted occupiers on a number of occasions, but as one travels under the seabed from France to England, one can’t help but think that the Emperor was right.

Now that the train can stretch its legs in England, Kent whizzes by in a blur, gliding and whistling past the cars on the motorway, along with the Eurolines buses that travel back and forth between Paris and London. Passing the bus now gives me an acute sense of satisfaction, as I think back to the many times I took that 10 hour coach journey last year, and the interminable boredom it represented. Yet as we blasted through the garden of England, I couldn’t help but feel for those who were on it, faced as they were with another two hours at least before arriving at their destination. So two hours and fifteen minutes after pulling out from under the shadow of Montmartre we arrived in London, but despite the 30 minutes gained I do miss the spectacle of travelling slowly along the Thames towards Waterloo. Leading up to, and just after the time that St Pancras International opened, Eurostar pitched the new link to the French as the chance to travel, for the first time, straight to the centre of Britain’s capital (they also suggested that it was now even better as they’d no longer have to be reminded about the battle of Waterloo, but I have no sympathy for them there, as they themselves named a train station in Paris after Napoleon’s victory at Austerlitz).  The new journey is fantastic, but no more so in some ways than when the train pulled into Waterloo. Of course the trip is shorter by half an hour, but curiously Eurostar, in their recent advertising push, have tried to convince the French that St Pancras is closer to central London than its predecessor. Yes it may be easier to catch connecting trains to other parts of the UK, but I am not convinced it is placed more centrally than Waterloo. On the approach to the old station, one was treated to the majesty of the Thames and the Palace of Westminster, now when it arrives one simply pops out of a tunnel into the station, but maybe that is not such a bad thing considering what the Kings Cross area is famous for!

That said, what a station! I have been told by more than one French person that one of the things that the British do have is the ability to blend the old with the new, a country that has given the world cutting edge art, music and architecture, yet at the same time guards many of its traditions. St Pancras can be viewed as a physical expression of this contradiction that the French find so beguiling. It has been called by the President of the French railway network (SNCF) the greatest station in the world. High praise indeed.  One cannot fail to be impressed at how effortlessly the metal and glass has been fused with the grandiose red brick gothic edifice that acts as the structure’s facade. It was the poet Sir John Betjeman that managed to prevent the building’s stunning structure from being smashed during the period when it was in vogue to demolish what was regarded then as over the top Victoriana. So it was saved, but stayed there for decades, slowly decaying. One wonders what Sir John would think now if he could peer through the glass ceiling with its sky blue framework, towards the station's gothic tower. All the UK needs now, like the French have, is the complete train network to match the architecture.