The Filtnib's Progress

Last weekend I escaped to the Netherlands for a flying visit to see my parents. The utter scene-shift, from a rainswept London full of tiredness and adulthood to the sparkling cold sunlight that greeted me on Saturday morning in the Hague, with the breakfast table already laid and my parents reading the paper and making toast when I came downstairs in my dressing-gown, felt wholesome and good and cherishing, like having a tea-cosy pressed around me. To my admittedly geektastic excitement, I travelled via Eurostar, from the renovated St. Pancras station. The clean, shiny-newness of everything, from the lanterns, redbrick arches and glass roof to the laptop portals (with UK and European plug sockets) makes you feel like train travel is something exciting, even (whisper it) luxurious.










































The station before the renovation, which took 10 years.












After.


































For comparison's sake, I also took some snaps of Brussels Midi. Tintin; brilliant idea for decor. Also the mischievous, massive advertisement for the new fast Eurostar service to London, which shows Blair, Thatcher and Major all holding EU balloons which they are about to pop.