I needed to come to Edinburgh for a few days as I haven’t seen Eliza for a year. After last year’s frightening experience on a packed plane with varying degrees of mask compliance, I didn’t want to fly. I can’t risk it, what with seeing vulnerable people while I’m here and my imminent trip to Canada.

I could have hired a car but I can’t drive the whole way in a day so that means a hotel stay on top of the car hire and fuel costs. On balance, then the £180 fare for a single cabin seemed like a good idea.

I’m fond of a long train journey. I’ve travelled by steam train in India, and down the illuminated Rhine Valley to Stuttgart. My favourite so far is the overnight rumble of the wheels as they rock you to sleep in your couchette on the journey from Paris that culminates with sunrise over Provencale vineyards just before arrival into Avignon. These days it takes half the time, of course.

The Caledonian Sleeper is not exactly the Orient Express, dear reader. The cabin was too tiny for me to open my suitcase properly, which resulted in a bit of late flusterment after a very long day spent running around at home doing chores and waiting for tradesmen and deliveries. I boarded just after 11, almost an hour before the train left London Euston, and settled in to my cabin.

I’m not quite sure how two people would be able to manage in that space with their luggage but, I admit it, I’m high maintenance, and trying to anticipate the temperature in Scotland which caught me out last year. The Marie Kondoed cosmetics to recycle to nascent MUAs and stylists took up a surprising amount of space so I had to bring a proper suitcase. ViaRail Canada specifies the size and amount of luggage items allowed in their cabins but maybe that doesn’t happen here because no-one would comply, I don’t know.

Pressing the “Host button” for a cup of tea I could not be heard over the intercom, and a “lovely” Host was sent along to take my order. I was surprised that I had to pay £2.70 extra for this. We are in difficult economic circumstances, yes, and people are trying to cover their costs wherever they can but you’d think the price of a tea bag would be included in that £180.

The berth was very comfortable, with cotton duvet and pillowcases, and I settled down to a night of dozing. I don’t remember actually being asleep, if you get me, so I must have dozed. It turns out that most of the sound insulation is in the door between the cabin and the compartment corridor, and not between the cabins or the cabin and the wheels. Annoyingly, the switch for the nightlight also contained a light which could not be extinguished and lit up the small space quite efficiently. What can I say? I like my own bed. I’m a princess. Everyone knows that.

Startled into full wakefulness at 6.20 by a call from John, which he says he didn’t make, I realised that we were approaching Edinburgh early. “Staff shortages” meant that the Glasgow section of the train came with us to Edinburgh instead of dividing off at Carlisle so Glasgow travellers had to make their own way across Scotland from Waverley.

I decided that taking a shower in the tiny en-suite loo/wet room was going to be a bad idea and with three ever-more-urgent Sheldon knocks at the door (remember – sound insulation) I pulled on yesterday’s clothes (I know. Eeeewww) and took delivery of my microwaved bacon bap and coffee. Eventually I managed to communicate by means of the Host button that didn’t work and an incredulous Host who came over to my cabin that I needed an actual sachet to make the water he’d provided into coffee. Nescafe, it was. Again, I know these are hard times, but at least have a Nespresso machine on board or something for a proper coffee. Is that really asking too much for a one-way fare of £180?

The train arrived at Edinburgh Waverley early at 7.00 am and what with the breakfast mishap and the flusterment of losing my posh mask in the tiny cabin and having to repack my case, I was almost kicked off the train by an increasingly insistent Host.

Would I do it again? Well, in these pandemic times, being isolated in a private cabin is good, especially given the number of maskless and stupid people on the London transport system. It’s still less expensive than a car and a hotel. Glamorous, though, it was not.