French high-speed rail (TGVs)

At Gare de Lyon I board the TGV which, reaching speeds of 184mph, again might not fit everyone’s concept of slow travel. But despite the train’s grande vitesse, the landscapes rolling behind the windows, changing gradually throughout the journey, ensure the size of the land I’m crossing is not forgotten. Through the window, I discover that France is a big country – far bigger than it looks on a map – with vast, vast expanses of countryside between Paris and the south.

To my right, a woman stares at a puzzle-book open on her lap and whispers possible answers to herself. Across the aisle, a British couple unpack an M&S picnic. They quibble over the sweet-and-sour sauce that she has spilt on his M&S shirt. They don’t seem to come on holiday often, but they are sweet. Eventually, he falls asleep. He snores like a breadknife through a cabbage, so I move to the restaurant cart for a meal.

The closest stop to Grenoble on this route was Chambéry, were I change onto a coach. The first coach breaks down before it leaves the car-park, so we all change to another, and it all starts to feel like a Bank Holiday rail replacement service (the simile is not entirely flippant, it is a jour férié today). The French autopistes are so good, however, that it doesn’t feel at all like a compromise, and the views are spectacular.