A short trip to London is just about long enough...

Fiona thinks that the UK capital is too hot and packed at the height of the summer tourist season and can’t wait for home...

This week sees a trip to London. Mercifully, it is a short one. One day is what it takes to go up and down. Out on the early train. Back on the late... It should be easy. But a mix of melting cables and engineering works takes us on a lengthy diversion. Hence the journey takes a good hour longer than it should do. Plus there is no hot water. Two hours in and a hot drink would go down a treat.

On arrival the capital is packed and hot. Too hot for me to handle these days.

As for the underground. It is the height of the tourist season and sardines doesn’t cover it.

Business over I beetle back to the station. Beetle not quite being the word as the taxi crawls through traffic.

No matter. The thought of a firstclass journey home cheers. It is not that pricey if you book in advance and have a concessionary pass.

Ah, the senior rail card! There are precious few ups about progressing in years. But that is definitely one perk worth having.

There will be service at the seat.

There will be food and drink on tap. So I decide not to buy the usual on-station sandwich.

Which is a big mistake. For the train is late coming in. The platforms are heaving with travellers waiting to head north and the turnaround is frenzied.

In fact it is so chaotic that as we set off the guard announces that we have somehow managed to leave the catering stewards behind.

So there we are. Resigned to our hungry and thirsty fate.

The carriage slowly sinks in spirit. What is there to do but stare gloomily out at the southern scenery.

The fields are flat and brown. Some places are industrial. Especially as we are again re-routed through Manchester.

But as we leave this northern metropolis, a great cheer goes up.

Our ticket collector has somehow managed to find a trolley load of sandwiches. Which he now wheels it through the carriage, offering chicken wraps and cheese and biscuits.

Then comes another welcome sight. A trolley pushed by a man called David.

A retired member of staff who has got up from his seat and is now helping to serve drinks.

Please note Virgin Rail: Mark Bell deserves a medal – and David, sorry I did not get his second name – has surely earned a top-up to his pension. Their efforts are working. Nicely refreshed the carriage comes to life.

Neighbour is talking to neighbour. I

There are precious few ups about progressing in years. But a senior rail card is definitely one perk worth having

chat to a couple who are just back from the continent with not much good to say about European railways.

Beyond Lancaster and we can start to breathe again. The scenery opens out and the Shap hills tower over tree plantations and green, green grass.

Then comes the border... Hurrah I am coming home.

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