Sorry about the title... I've obviously been thinking too much about George Orwell lately...

So, on Saturday, we left the Iberian Peninsula behind (although reminders, such as the Catalan language, were still in evidence even in Perpignan).

The 2 pm TGV service from Barcelona to Paris is not truly high-speed until you get to Nimes. But the slower section is very scenic. Once in France you are treated not only to more views of the Pyrenees, but also to big, watery vistas in the Narbonnaise Natural Park, glimpses of the Mediterranean, and water all around between Agde and Sete.





Even the high-speed bit, as the sun sets over the river Rhone and a bulky range of mountains, is pretty spectacular.

But it was not one of our better rail journeys. The wifi didn't work. The charging points didn't work (we're so glad we bought a power pack before this journey...) And the TGV ahead of us hit an animal, which meant we had to stop for a while, and arrived 30 minutes late (at 9.20 pm, after nearly 7.5 hours on the rails). We are apparently entitled to a compensatory voucher.

After this epic, we definitely felt we needed our free Ibis welcome beers. It was not actually a good idea to treat ourselves to two extra bottles. Not at Paris prices... But the indulgence did mean we could taste-test the entire range of the Danish Grimbergen label. (The blonde was OK; the rouge was interesting, but a little sweet; the blanche was really good -- and they all helped dispel the gloom emanating from the pages of Le Figaro on the subject of the coronavirus.)


We had declined the (extra-cost) Ibis breakfast, on the grounds that we would have enough time to forage. Rooky mistake. Shops don't open that early on Sundays in Paris, so you're left to the mercy of the cafes. By the time you've rounded up a cafe creme and a croissant (these two items alone cost three times what we paid for them in Barcelona), and supplemented that with a second-breakfast sandwich (because you have a long walk ahead of you), you've definitely spent more than you would have done on a buffet breakfast...

Ah, Paris... It's that love-hate thing again. I left feeling I'd been well and truly fleeced. But then we had such a nice walk across town to the Gare du Nord... Place de la Bastille, the Cirque d'Hiver (established in 1852, and hosting, a few years later, Jules Leotard's newly invented flying trapeze act), Place de la Republique, Eglise St Laurent (built on the north-south axis of the city, as determined by the Romans way back in the middle of the 1st century BC...).






The Gare du Nord was sporting lots of coronavirus notices: "Protect yourself. Protect others." "Wash your hands frequently." Our train was not particularly full, but London St Pancras was fairly busy, so it's hard to gauge the extent to which travellers are changing their plans.

Our latest hotel is classic budget-London. Nice view over Argyle Square. Nice net curtains. Minuscule room, containing the Leaning Wardrobe of London.




Lunch, though, was excellent. And very symbolic. Fine British roast meats from the Norfolk Arms (Norfolk is where we're heading today). And a truly amazing bottle of Lisbon Confidencial (to appropriately mark the end of the Lisbon Loop).



Just a pity that we had to discuss THE VIRUS (it increasingly feels as though it's in capital letters), and the plans it is casting a shadow over.

After all that food and wine and angst, we needed some fresh air, so we took a turn through Regent's Park to see how spring is progressing. Answer: quite nicely.








Our budget hotel redeemed itself quite substantially this morning by its (included) breakfast. Plenty for low-carbers and over-carbers alike.

And then... Another walk to another railway station. Another bit of on-the-hoof food-provisioning at the inflated prices of another capital. Another train. Well, two, actually.

Destination: Cromer...