I admit I take many photos of railway stations and trains but at least I’m travelling on them at the time. I know it’s a fine line but I’ve never seen the point of people going to a railway station simply to watch the trains go by, and at Doncaster this practice is particularly prevalent. Pictured on my way home from Brighton this afternoon.
A sunny moment captured through the window of a train on the opposite platform. What I want to know is whether the cat is also intending to catch the imminent Manchester service.
It’s been a good few days for wildlife shots. Believe it or not, this photo was taken at Hebden Bridge railway station — the moss here being located at the top of the wall near the place where I always stand at platform 1. No crawling around required. I love the languid way it has draped itself over the sprig of moss.
Edinburgh, like Hebden Bridge, is a place of vertical contrasts, and it is easy enough to look down on the vast glass roof of Waverley station from above. The shot also symbolises the fact that this was the last of this trip to Edinburgh; I wish I could go there more often.
OK, I am repeating a theme from three days ago, but there you go. I spend a lot of time on trains and railway platforms. This may be the right time to catch platform 1, anyway. As the renovations proceed, over the last couple of weeks it has lost its roof, allowing the continuing pleasant sunshine to fall on those waiting for their trains home. And the roof leaked anyway.
When awaiting the 8:56 morning service to Manchester, stand by the first station sign board beyond the edge of the canopy. That’s where the front coach stops and there are plenty of seats. Because it was a gloriously sunny morning, my spot was occupied by these guys today, but their cute dog caught great rim-light so I let them off.
I continue to be in a long run of time spent at home and around familiar places. This mural, next to one of the entrances of Manchester Victoria station, has been here a very long time, since the services round here were run by the Lancashire and Yorkshire railway, rather than Northern Rail. The red lines on this map were theirs. Some have now gone but quite a number remain actively operational.
Gosh, I made it into Manchester. But because this was a potentially traumatic experience, the wife came with me, and we didn’t stay for all that long.
This place is a godsend early in the morning, and rarely empty. I’m not normally round this corner, but for once I had my cup of tea sat down at the tables inside instead of on the train. Earliest shot for a while, since late November in fact (and only the fourth shot before 7.30 in the last 12 months). It’s still dark outside at this time.
With 40 minutes to kill in King’s Cross station on our way back from Brighton, I entertained myself by watching these activities. When the new King’s Cross was opened a couple of years ago this little memorial had been installed seemingly by the builders, and was left largely unmolested; when the Harry Potter shop opened and colonised it shortly afterwards, and started charging visitors to get their mitts on the trolley, the queues, absent before, started appearing. QED.
Being 42 