Although I grew up by the sea, I only have to see a picture of a surfing wave to feel queasy. So the thought of a heaving ferry Channel crossing fills me with acute misery – it’s a case of not travelling hopefully but helplessly.

What is body bliss for me is a Eurostar trip to Paris with TGV train links to explore deepest France in fast comfort. I opted for a weekend in Dijon, a place not served by air, which was packaged for me by Railbookers.

The Eurostar experience marries 21st century speed with past elegance nostalgia.

With a 9.22am – these trains are punctual to the minute – Eurostar departure, I pampered myself with a night at the newly-reopened St Pancras Renaissance hotel that in 1873 offered the first hotel lift, Britain’s first revolving door and cost today’s equivalent of £500m to build in high Venetian gothic style.

A spa and pool have been added in the old kitchens but the rooms’ 20-foot high ceilings, carved fireplaces and frescoed gothic corridors looking out over the station remain.

I strolled along the concourse to toast my journey at Europe’s longest champagne bar – all 95.5 metres of it. It was a chilly night and I was grateful for the heated alcove seats as I sipped my fizz.

Traditional Victorian Rail travellers’ thaw-out drinks were an option I could have tried at the Booking Hall in the hotel – the original ticket office now a buzzy eatery offering dishes like salmon fishcakes and Eton Mess.

Along the lengthy bar that curves round the Grade I listed ticket booth are copper punchbowls from which such drinks as Charles Dickens Memorial Punch and Burnt Brandy, a complex drink made by flaming brandy in a hollowed out lemon are served.

Next morning, check-in for Eurostar took under 15 minutes from presenting my ticket to passing through security, with time to buy a paper and coffee before ascending the moving walkways to the platform and the 800-passenger capacity train.

Everyone was quickly and efficiently guided to their carriages by uniformed staff.

Once settled in my seat, there was just time to make a more meaningful ‘I’m on the train’ call home before we left St Pancras and within minutes were hurtling towards Kent, through it and, after a brief stop at Ashford, plunged under the Channel for 20 minutes.

Then we were out again and gobbling up the Northern French plains. Before I finished my paper, we were swishing past Montmartre and into the Gare du Nord.

There was about two hours between arrival in Paris and the departure of the Dijon TGV from the Gare du Lyon.

Railbookers had, very thoughtfully, included metro tickets for the transfers.

Taking the doubledecker RER train between the stations, I had time for a quick lunch with a friend at Le Train Bleu at Gare du Lyon. This is the high temple of railway gastronomy.

Opened by France’s president in 1901, the restaurant, which attracted regulars like Coco Chanel, Brigitte Bardot, Jean Cocteau and Salvador Dali, has historical monument status. Apart from the food, its lure is the gilded, frescoed interior with wall and ceilings covered with 41 paintings depicting the destinations served by the station.

The brisk, non-stop TGV through rolling open country, brought me to Dijon by 4pm.

It was a short walk to the Hotel La Cloche; its old exterior containing modern rooms and duplex suites named for top Burgundy wines. A peaceful rear garden was perfect for sunny day relaxation. The restaurant overlooks this garden where on Sundays a buffet spread is an excellent way of passing time before the journey home.

Dijon is forever associated with mustard though the industry has now moved elsewhere, but the 18th century Maille shop remains in the main street displaying its different flavoured mustards with the same reverence as caviar.

The old central city is compact and easy to explore on foot. The Hotel la Cloche is minutes from Rue de la Liberté, the main shopping street that as befits the regional capital, flies colourful Burgundian flags in summer.

Dijon’s past grandeur is manifest in the huge ducal palace with massive courtyard in one corner of which is an automatic self-cleaning public loo.

The palace is now the Beaux Arts museum and nearby is the Musée Rude named for a ducal favoured sculptor now housing patriotic and monumental works.

Opposite the palace is a crescent of old buildings beyond a paved area studded with mini-fountains behind which are little alleyways full of small restaurants and cafes.

Churches spear up majestically among the ornate and very grand Hotels de Ville; town houses with formal courtyards, turreted external stairs, elaborate mouldings and sometimes the typically Burgundian multi-coloured tiled roofs.

Shopping along the Rue de la Liberté offers Galeries Lafayette, fashion boutiques and food shops.

Around the gargoyled church of Notre Dame, small alleys are crammed with specialist outlets for silverware, toys and even a shop devoted to things for and about cats. Running parallel to the Rue de la Liberté are narrow streets lined with stalls selling old books, postcards and bric-a-brac.

Household goods, clothing and flower stalls surround Les Halles retailing the best of Burgundy foods from powerful cheeses like Chaource to Charolais beef.

I bought paté, cheese and pastries for a homeward TGV picnic and sipped a glass of Chablis at the market Buvette; a good place to watch the foodie scene.

At the end of my weekend, I had no airport hangups and queuing to face; indeed, the trains were so quick I never did finish the book I’d brought along.