We were really pleased to be leaving Shanghai and left the hostel with plenty of time to catch our train. Unfortunately, when we arrived at Shanghai station, it became clear that about four million other people had had the same idea. With the shear numbers, no English signs and our general lack of navigational skills, we found ourselves on the wrong side of the station, swimming against the stream to find out way to the right entrance.

So close were we to missing the train that we arrived on the platform as the doors were shutting. We forced ourselves in and were immediately shocked by the amount of people packed in to each carriage. We could barely move but fortunately, we had booked seats for the 16hr journey. Unfortunately for us, and everyone else on the train, they were in the second carriage. We were in the seventeenth. Naturally, the locals couldn't have been more helpful, cheerfully and politely creating space wherever possible. Sorry, slipped in to a daydream there, what I meant to say was, the sour-faced sods refused to budge an inch and we had to force our way through fifteen carriages, even having to step over entire groups of men playing cards. Forget Gladiators, this was the real gauntlet.

We were dripping with sweat by the time we had found our seats and there was nowhere to put our luggage. I managed to wedge mine under the seat somehow but Daley had to leave his bag by the door, which was a big concern. Not for fear of it being stolen, more that his case was so big, we wondered if anyone would be able to get past it to get off the train.

The journey itself was very dull, but the combination of rock hard, bolt upright seats, never-ending slurping of soup and noodles and babies constantly crying or making noises that should have been quashed with an iron fist, ensured that it was a sleepless journey for me.

I felt myself ageing.