Every year since I left home at 18, Christmas time is also travelling time. As you have read on this blog, I travel regularly, so I have a choice of luggage for each occasion – short weekend, long weekend, a week of skiing or a longer break…. Yet at Christmas time, none ever seem to suit my requirements and I always end up travelling with only the clothes on my back – and borrowing my mother’s for a week. At best, I manage to squeeze a rolled up evening dress in my handbag for our traditionally formal Christmas eve, but it is not a given. I am so grateful that to have the same shoe size as my mother and grandmother…
Yes indeed, at Christmas the content of my luggage looks like this:
I thought this year I would try to go by train, travelling by Eurostar to Lille and then taking the French fast train – the TGV – direct from Lille to Nîmes. 
By a strange contrast, the London metro was completely empty on a weekday at 10am, while the train stations were packed. 
By doing the journey by train, I hoped it to avoid the announced strikes at airports, and it worked.
There were some unexpected little pleasures too! For once, my name was spelled correctly on my cappuccino Starbuck cup. It could only happen in France, and I usually go to Starbucks at airports in the UK. And I did have the time to make a proper indent in some clever books.
So where was the ultimate destination of my train journey?
Nîmes, my beautiful home-town, brimming with historical monuments and warm cafés with attractive terraces.
Nîmes, the gathering point of the family with eating, drinking, playing, laughing and exchanging news of the last events in our lives since we last met (usually months ago if not a year ago) our main activies
(Note: I won the card game!)
Nîmes, where I jog in the park in wonder at the beauty of the Mediterranean charms and the warm light. I could never get bore of it.
So many cherished moments of happiness of sweet family life, with children being children; grand-mother being cat-smitten; and with my mother, roaming the town to leave some of our read books on benches for passers-by to take home.
But the festive season travel does not stop there, of course. There is still New year’s Eve!
This year I was looking forward to spending a long weekend in Florence, Italy, with a good friend, my goddaughter, and her three siblings. My host was throwing a big party and I was looking forward to the celebrations with my extended family.
But travelling does not always go as planned, and this happened:
Yes, the fog.
It hit the South East of England for several days and hundreds of flights were cancelled in all the London airports, including mine. With the backlog of travelers trying to reach their destination for the couple of days prior to me, it was not possible to get an alternative to make it on time for New Year’s Eve. As you might expect, it was a disappointment, for my crying goddaughter, my friend, and me.
However, for once I had the opportunity to see with my own eyes what was the cause of the cancellation, and I could only approve. There was no way to fly in this. Also, this thick fog could not fail to make me think of my own work, The Fog Chronicles, and so it did bring a smile on my face.
There was no point dwelling too long on the frustration and disappointment, and other friends quickly came to the rescue. We ended up having a small but fun ‘réveillon’ at mine, our little group with good food, laughter and champagne.
And so, this season’s travel, after the foggy hiccup, had a happy ending.
Thank you for reading,
Virginie
P.S.: I have already booked a new flight in the Spring to go and visit my goddaughter. Florence, here I come!