About once a year – but even that simple thing is a bit more fluid than it should be, we do something whimsical, usually out of Budapest.  What usually happens is we sling together a raggetty old sleeper train, often purloined from a failed or forgotten Communist Dictator, and have dinner on board and the sort of Vodka Cocktails that leave you wanting an ambulance.

They are Black Tie affairs, but what happens on board, stays on board. There are never more than 40 people on it anyway.  It is like one of the proper posh tourist trains, but with the protocols and obsequious bits removed. Not recommended if you take your rail travel even slightly seriously.