What goes down South, must come back up North again (at least, unless one wants to be paying hotel bills for an excessive length of time). I don’t know where this train was going, but I was on the 10:30 back to Leeds, and then home.
The first weekend away of the year. You can tell we’re in First Class because of the menu: stock up on the complimentary drinks and food, and the relatively small premium paid for these tickets is effectively refunded. Sometimes the food you want is even available.
No particular message today; just an interesting urban scene. I’ve been seeking to, at some point, capture a train coming over one or other of Manchester’s downtown rail bridges, and here it is.
Sackville Street was the subject of the Inspiral Carpets’ rather good track “Sackville“, don’t you know. The place has obviously cleaned up a bit since that came out in 1990, considering the lyrics.
They’ve still got a couple of minutes before the departure of the 12:21 from Leeds to Doncaster. But we run anyway in these situations, don’t we; almost instinctively. It takes a certain confidence not to do so.
Not sure that I have previously managed to categorise a post as ‘sport’ and ‘transport’ simultaneously. A shame the ball could not make it into shot as well…
The 15:35 heads for Ravenglass station, beside the estuary of the river Esk. And then leaves again — without me on it — meaning, I am about to have a first night away from home in Hebden for 135 days, since my trip to Lincoln on March 10th. The walls of the valley were beginning to close in. Here, the vistas are much different. Variety is a good thing. It is good to be on holiday in this mad year.
I was resolved that today’s photo would depict a living person, after ten days of no one at all. And so it does, in part. Those of us still wishing to use the trains are doing so, casually.
On the train down to London. Both of these guys needed a rest after a weekend with the (grand)parents, it seems.
These two have clearly had a very good weekend. And so have I.
Blog-wise, it’s two months since I pulled duty on a 6.32 train out of Hebden Bridge — arrives Manchester about 7.10, like this morning, if it’s feeling energetic. The bloke in yellow is the owner of the fold-up bike on the other side of the shot: he looks the least keen of all of them, but then again he has his onward transport sorted.
Being 42 