Time to go home, and from London, journeys home invariably start at King’s Cross. Platform 5 for us today, though still with half an hour to go from this point in time before the 9:40 departure to Bradford Forster Square, changing at Leeds.
Yes, it was a comfortably late start to the day but then again I am still teaching until 6pm on Tuesdays. Much more preferable to go in later, particularly as we are, finally, having some pleasant weather.
And another photo taken at a railway station but not depicting a train — or, in this case, even any tracks. Birmingham New Street, the busiest railway station in the UK outside London, is almost the epitome of a hole in the ground, with all the tracks squatting below the gigantic retail edifice that is the station building itself. I suppose, up there, the place is OK but the platforms are not a place in which one feels like hanging around very long. Still, at least our train home was punctual, unlike the last time I depicted the place on here.
More specifically, skulking right down the far end of it, where the trains never stop. It looks like he may have busted the photographer but actually, looking closer up suggests he’s oblivious to his capture for posterity. I quite like the lighting on this one.
A metaphor of some kind? Quite possibly. We are all waiting for something. But at least the sun was shining on Hebden Bridge station this morning.
Another railway station, but this is more one of those shots where I was just trying to get the various horizontals and verticals to come out true: and for once I think I have managed it, although is there just the slightest curve on the tracks? If I never said that, however, perhaps you would not have noticed.
In terms of its aesthetics I quite like Blackburn station — at least at platform level (the subway below has been choked by excessive and largely non-functional ticket machines, though). The clutter of modern life throws off the symmetry of this shot but I gave it a go.
For the duration of this visit, and certainly today, its final morning, Dundee has basked in balmy sunshine that is atypical for the city. It contributed to a pleasantly chilled out wait for the train heading back south, which I think this couple epitomise. (My journey was fine all the way to Bradford, after which it descended into a farce of the kind only Northern Rail seem able to manufacture, but that’s another story, hours in the future.)
In comes the 16:22 to Leeds, about as on time as it gets. It didn’t get me home at the scheduled time but that’s just natural variation in the Northern Rail time-space continuum.
Evening on Hebden Bridge station, platform 1. But am I leaving town, or coming back? That’s for me to know. Perhaps it is all the same thing in the end.
Being 42 