Tuesday 10th September 2019, 2.10pm (day 2,938)
More monochrome, but it felt right. The position of the half-seen guard may or may not be a sign of despair at the state of the local train service.
More travel woes. I wanted to travel from Hebden Bridge to London this afternoon. I was meant to arrive in London at 5pm. You can look at the time and location of this photo and appreciate straight away that things did not quite go according to plan. And journeys from Hebden Bridge to London shouldn’t go anywhere near Birmingham. I finally got to London at 8pm, three hours late. On a minute-per-kilometre basis, this was actually a worse performance than easyJet.
A sign that I have passed many times over the last years, and yet never depicted on here before today. Is there a reason for this — either way? Probably not. Was the message apposite today? Also probably not, but I like it anyway. I have got on many wrong trains down the years, as I’m sure we all have. Yet here we all are.
Off we all go to our various duties and assignations, early on a Wednesday morning. And what was I doing in Wakefield Kirkgate station — a town that has never before featured on the blog (thus becoming named location #270) — at 7.40am? Well, you don’t get to see every aspect of my life on here.
Plans to minimise my time in Manchester while on sabbatical have not been successful this week (or next). The weather turned during the day, as well, and it was quite cool and rainy by the evening. A pleasant morning on HB station though: just the latest in a number of occasions where the arrangement of fellow passengers on the platform has interested me.
Flinders Street station is the main central railway station of Melbourne and a common meeting place — you meet ‘under the clocks’, a line of timepieces out of shot above. And this is why I was there, to meet my friend Mariam for a great lunch and a nice afternoon out. All these other people seemed to be doing the same thing.
This is, of course, a quite different photo of platform 2 of Preston station than the one I took sixteen days ago: and I was heading in an entirely different direction — towards home instead of away from it. That’s my excuse anyway. No repetition!
Went into Bradford today just for something to do that wasn’t sitting on my arse at home, and it did help me get some writing done. These arches stand outside Forster Square railway station, but above them is a road, not the railway line, which sticks to the lower ground: Bradford is a very bloody hilly city, as I was frequently reminded today. They look like they need something to fill them; like they are a row of little stages, micro-theatres perhaps, waiting for performers.
Beautifully — some might even say, ridiculously — warm day today for February, with temperatures up to 20ºC in Hebden Bridge. It’s the half-term holidays as well as the weekend and all this tempted people out, including me, as the afternoon saw a decamp up to the in-laws’ place in Morecambe. Preston station was busy and well-lit; on such days it’s hard not to admire the durability and aesthetic qualities of your basic Victorian station architecture — love those pillars.