“Why can’t we take the train?”
“What – all the way?” H. gives me his your-quirkiness-is-turning-into-madnesslook. “It’s – it’s –”
“The longest leg would be just twelve hours,” I filled in, smiling sweetly. “If you went to Australia, you’d have to sit on a plane for over twelve hours.”
“Y–yes, but–but, you’re actually proposing to take a train from Norwich to London, London to Paris, Paris to Rome, then Rome to Milan, Milan to Paris, then –”
“Yes, I know.”
“But you even want to go from Paris to Rome by train? That’s, like –”
“Yes, twelve hours.” My smile loses some of its brilliance.
I truly hate flying. I do it when I have to but I find the whole experience increasingly stressful. The wait at the airport, the luggage restrictions, sitting cramped in that tiny space, with the constant noise of the engine, and that…
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Jane Wilson 
Aren’t trains wonderful and magical? Love this blog—thank you Jane for sharing…… 🙂