Gliding along at 222 km/h through foul filthy weather. Cold, lashing rain as night begins to fall over the German countryside. Still another 20 minutes to Spandau. 856pm. Ten minutes to Spandau. A silent train. No one talking. So peaceful, civilised. 243 km/h.
On the ICE to Brussels. A much more spacious train than the Nuremberg to Frankfurt one! Sitting in the Caribic videokabins last night I was thinking when I get to Brussels Fifth Avenue I’m going to f—k the first half-decent girl there I see, don’t care who she is; but of course that feeling has passed, and my old reticence will no doubt still be in force when I get there. And that I realise (again, re-realise) is why Vienna so often does disappoint. To really find a place erotic, to be able to really release the erotic fly from the amber, raise the woolly mammoth from the ice, there needs first of all to be a really good source of pornography.
Regensburg, our first stop ticked off. One hour of the journey gone already. 10am. One & a half hours gone. 1030 Two hours gone. Plattling. A lovely, half-empty peaceful train so far. I’ve said it before, the ICE is one of the wonders of the modern world (Europe, anyway). On an ICE travelling across Europe, for however many hours, feels a real pleasure. The journey itself is a treat. We are really not picking up hardly any passengers along the way either. At Plattling and Passau the train draws in to an almost totally empty platform. How peaceful Europe feels compared to living in London!