When it first began in 1994, the Eurostar train journey from London to Paris had three parts. First, there was the dawdle from Waterloo station through Kent on low-speed commuter track. Then there was the stretch in the Channel tunnel. Finally, you would emerge into daylight and high-speed France.

The train would accelerate until, just when you thought it might take off and fly, a voice would announce: “Mesdames et messieurs, nous avons atteint notre vitesse maximum de 300 kilomètres à l’heure”, which means “Ladies and gentlemen, we have reached our maximum speed of 186 miles an hour”, although the real translation was “na-na-na-na-na”.

François Mitterrand joked that the British part of the journey would at least give people a chance to enjoy the landscape, but the embarrassment is finally over. Last month, the Queen opened the new Eurostar terminal at St Pancras station, along with a fast link to the tunnel, which means the train now travels at its maximum speed on the British side too.

The restored St Pancras is magnificent, although still a little unlived-in. But, when I travelled to Paris by Eurostar a couple of weeks ago, I found the new UK part of the journey slightly disconcerting.

It was not the unaccustomed speed; it was that we seemed to be underground most of the time. It was not clear when, or if, we had entered the Channel tunnel. Suddenly we emerged into winter sunshine. A murmur went around the carriage: “Are we in France?” I checked the service provider on the screen of my mobile phone. We were.

In fact, London & Continental Railways, which built the high-speed link, says that only 25 per cent of the British journey is underground. The rest just seems that way because there are high trackside barriers to protect surrounding communities from the noise.

I do not wish to knock it. It is not easy to build high-speed railways through a country as densely populated as the UK. The new London to Paris journey is only 2¼ hours long, compared with three hours when Eurostar first started 13 years ago. That is 90 minutes of travelling taken out of a return trip, which makes flying even more senseless.

But the late President Mitterrand was speaking more truthfully than he knew about that slow journey through the English countryside. Kent is a beautiful county and well worth absorbing at moderate speed. With an early start, you could enjoy the sun rising over a green and pleasant land. You had time to think, doze and reflect.

Much has been written about how mobile phones and BlackBerries are intruding into family and leisure time. Less often discussed is how we feel the need to fill every minute of our working time with apparently purposeful work.

This is not a new phenomenon; it long pre-dates wireless technology. Nearly 100 years ago, Frederick Taylor championed the idea that every minute should count. He calculated how long manufacturing workers should take to perform each task.

The sort of knowledge work we do today lends itself less easily to such measurement, but we still feel the need to occupy every moment.

In his essay Know Your Time, which first appeared in 1966, the great Peter Drucker observed that most managers frittered away their days on a series of fragmented and truncated tasks. (It was in the same essay that Drucker came up with his perfect riposte to anyone suggesting an unnecessary meeting: “One either meets or one works. One cannot do both at the same time.”)

Drucker said you needed to create substantial blocks of time to get things done, whether writing a report or talking to a colleague.

“The knowledge worker who thinks that he can discuss the plans, direction and performance of one of his subordinates in 15 minutes – and many managers believe this – is just deceiving himself. If one wants to get to the point of having an impact, one needs probably at least an hour and usually much more.”

As ever with Drucker, there was plenty of common sense there. But there was also something missing: he did not mention time to think. I do not mean the sort of thinking where you write down pros and cons. I mean the reflecting best done in beautiful surroundings, where you can enjoy some peace and catch your breath.

When I had a management job, I often used to begin the day with a walk across Hampstead Heath, which is beautiful enough to banish most of your worries for a while. I knew it would be my last tranquil moment for many hours. When I got on the train, I was ready to face the day.

It is not easy to find this sort of time. That journey through Kent forced you to do so. I could have filled the extra 90 minutes the fast Eurostar gave me in France with yet more meetings. But I decided that Paris was worth a walk, so I took one. Wherever you are, take one too.

Send your comments to michael.skapinker@ft.com