I had looked like hell in the mirror a couple of hours earlier so I was certain that I looked equally as ill when I established myself at the end seat, opposite the luggage rack, on one of the front carriages of the train heading for Exeter St Davids. In spite of my fading Australian tan, my face managed to be a sick white with some red blotches – on cheeks and around my eyes – and a sort of purplish colour on my lips; I had a temperature and had long since taken off my coat and cardigan, although it must have been cold because it was a rainy day and everyone else wore a coat.

My palor and my cough had kept me in a kind of quarantine on the previous train, from Brighton to Salisbury; even though there were more passengers than seats, nobody attempted to sit next to me. At one point earlier on, when their were a few odd empty seats, but not together, an old couple boarded and sat behind one another on the aisle seats more or less opposite me.

“I’m sorry, I’m not well,” I said leaning forward, “I’d offer you this seat… but then I’d have to sit next to someone else and spread my infection.”

The old man stared at me searchingly and smiled.

“He doesn’t understand. We’re German,” his wife turned around with a knowing smile.

“And I have germs!” I perked up a bit.

I think the wife saw the funny side. She whispered to her mann and he nodded enthusiastically.

The Salisbury to Exeter train was a different kettle of fish; a plush new train, smooth, quiet and so warm that all abandoned their coats; there were plenty of vacant seats, lots of tables and loads of legroom, even in my preferred seat at the back where I had hoped not to disturb or be disturbed.

Too tired to read after my restless night, I plugged my earphones into my Kindle and began to listen to Candide, by Voltaire (the Kindle reader’s American high-school girl voice doesn’t do justice to French words and names but it was mildly amusing trying to make sense of the strange pronunciations). A few minutes later, at about chapter six – after Candide has been thrown out from the castle, fought for the Bulgarians, met up with his philosophy master who had been hung and left for dead, and reunited with the girl who had led to his being thrown out in the first place (Candide rows along very quickly) – the train guard came along and asked to see my ticket.

“I have a theory,” said the blue-eyed and smiley-faced Northerner, “I reckon that lovely skin has something to do with the water. Do you live in Torquay?”

“No, Dawlish, but I was born in Australia,” I dashed his theory.

“Well, I hope you don’t mind me saying that you have lovely skin,” he continued without appearing too dashed.

Needless to say, I wasn’t offended at all and, before long I took the earphones out and closed the Kindle; in fact, I had perked up a bit.

The guard wasn’t so much handsome as full of fun. He did the odd bit of dashing off to click tickets, deal with queries and open doors for passengers, then he’d come back to my seat and perch on the edge of the seat next to me (I was by the window). He told me which are the best seats for the open-air opera at Verona, and the best place to go for a good beer in Bavaria; he spoke of the vineyards on the banks of the Rhine, near Lorelei Rock and knew the legend of Lorelei the mermaid siren. Occasionally, he burst into Italian and German. Germs and Germany again! But I felt a lot better.

“We like to travel,” I used the married we, to let him know.

“You’d be a great travelling companion. I’d love you to come to Verona with me,”  he said, “but your husband wouldn’t!”

A little before we arrived at Exeter St Davids station, the final destination for our beautiful new train, the guard came back to wish me goodbye. He gave me a peck on my now perhaps less pale cheek.

Chris was waiting for me at Dawlish station. He held me tightly in his arms and kissed me on my cheeks. We hadn’t seen each other for four days… but there were those germs. I told him about the nice guard who had cheered me up during the long journey.

“Let’s get you home. There’s a cauliflower-cheese ready for you…”

There’s no place like home. 

Penny, too. had a cold