I’M A great fan of the two Oxford to London bus services, always advising people to use these instead of the train.

I’m especially snooty about the Class 165 Turbos operated by Great Western on the Paddington to Oxford line.

Their drab carriages, which date from the time of John Major’s Premiership, are decorated in the same shade of grey I associate with his hair. Travelling in a vehicle the colour of John Major’s hair is no way start a weekend away, I argue.

Yet when the Oxford Parkway station opened last week I decided to try it out – as I might try out a new dish on the menu of my local pub, knowing I’ll probably never order it again.

The new station building features tall pilasters decked with smart tiles in blue French ultramarine.

Inside tables are scattered about with Swedish chairs in bright green, navy and purple and along the wall is a smart espresso decked out like a Swedish sauna.

Hi-tech ticket machines promise the world if you can only slap the touch-screen hard enough.

Once through the ticket barrier, 60 steps take you up and down to Platform 2 where trains to London Marylebone depart.

The train I board is a smart Class 168 Clubman which travels at up to 100mph.

The décor in the carriages is upholstered with an austere grey check, speckled with red – rather like a good pair of Marks and Spencer’s trousers.

In fact it’s such a far cry from the trains we’re used to that there is panic among passengers, including myself, over whether we’re accidentally sitting in first class.

On the journey, you pass long, lovely stretches of Oxfordshire countryside with cattle and sheep.

I spend 17 minutes looking out of the window at such idyllic scenes before the train passes a vandalised railway bridge over the Buckinghamshire border.

Further on come dazzling views of the Chiltern Hills and the fine Italianate buildings of West Wycombe Park.

The train momentarily slows at High Wycombe before charging on through Beaconsfield, brushing shoulders with golf courses, beech trees and ferns, until we burst into grotty West Ruislip.

As though this wasn’t luxurious the lavatories are decked out in homage to Hughenden Manor, home of Benjamin Disraeli. I feel smug and appalled in equal measure as I recognise his portrait by the door.

A second portrait by Sir Thomas Lawrence of the Countess of Blessington overlooks you as you do your duty. Great Western Railway never thought of this.

The train pulls into Marylebone on time. As dishes go it was good, although I remain a full-time convert to the glories of theOxford Tube and the X90, the only methods of public transport I know that will pick me up and drop me off so close to branches of Nando’s.