Back off the train and on the wagon again.
Berlin was amazing - and I didn't even eat the curry-wurst!
The whole trip started out in sub-zero tempretures - taking gloves off for more than a few minutes, even at midday, led to real pain (and another cup of coffee to clutch on to try and get the circulation going again).
Oddly enough while the cold made it essential to eat/drink every few hours just to stay warm, it also snatched the appetite away.
I managed to steer myself away from hot chocolate and chips, but I did eat a lot of bread (the staple at breakfast time) and didn't drink enough water (I carried a bottle everywhere, but the dry air just sucked it out as fast as I could drink it. And then there was the time it started to freeze in my bag - ouch!).
But by the time I reached Paris on the way back it was positively tropical - above freezing and I could ditch the hat and gloves to walk about St Michael. Mouched in Shakespeare and Co and found a hardback copy of Simon Schama's account of the French Revolution for only 10E, so I holed up for a couple of hours over tea and (shhhhh - icecream) in Cafe Flore d'Isle to enjoy some guillotining in comfort.
Then home via Eurostar, and 12 hours sleep. I think I remembered to take my boots off before I lost consciousness - but I'm not sure.