At Christmas, a friend gave me a book by John Minnis entitled 'Britain's Lost Railways'.
It would be natural to assume that this was a book about the different lines that have been lost throughout the UK. This is, however, a book about the lost infrastructure that surrounds the railway, particularly about railway architecture. I have written a short review of the book:
http://rogerfarnworth.com/2019/02/16/bo ... chitecture
Britain's Lost Railways
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Re: Britain's Lost Railways
It appears to be a charming book.
One begins to remember waiting for a train on a cold Winter's evening. Snow is falling. The dim station platform lights a blur. The train is not due for another twenty minutes. The Waiting Room beckons. Ah, a roaring fire throwing out heat. One is mesmerised by the crackling of the logs. How close does anyone go. Is there time to undo the overcoat.
It is bitterly cold now. The snow is falling fast and furious. The fire has gone out. It stopped burning , what, some fifty years now. The Waiting Room is still there. I say still there; not the original one built in 1849, but some metal monstrosity that has strong plastic sides for windows to see the train arrive. A howling gale blowing through the gap at the bottom freezing the feet.
A couple of buttons are undone. The heat warming the throat and chest. The feet are warm. A feeling of relaxation. Bells ring. It is the Non-stop Express. A couple of minutes to go.
The Local Train is in sight. The fleeting memory bubble is burst. Step out of the 'useless bus style shelter' and onto a 'Nodding Donkey'.
Glencairn
One begins to remember waiting for a train on a cold Winter's evening. Snow is falling. The dim station platform lights a blur. The train is not due for another twenty minutes. The Waiting Room beckons. Ah, a roaring fire throwing out heat. One is mesmerised by the crackling of the logs. How close does anyone go. Is there time to undo the overcoat.
It is bitterly cold now. The snow is falling fast and furious. The fire has gone out. It stopped burning , what, some fifty years now. The Waiting Room is still there. I say still there; not the original one built in 1849, but some metal monstrosity that has strong plastic sides for windows to see the train arrive. A howling gale blowing through the gap at the bottom freezing the feet.
A couple of buttons are undone. The heat warming the throat and chest. The feet are warm. A feeling of relaxation. Bells ring. It is the Non-stop Express. A couple of minutes to go.
The Local Train is in sight. The fleeting memory bubble is burst. Step out of the 'useless bus style shelter' and onto a 'Nodding Donkey'.
Glencairn
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I Cannot Afford the Luxury of a Negative Thought.
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