...
The station loomed ominously in the fog ahead. This wasn't the first and certainly not the last occasion he would be here. The banal and forlorn lettering of 'welcome to Newton-le-willows' hung on the wrought iron frame in the gloom. Streaks of rust cascaded behind the mounting points as if tears accompanying the incongruousness of the 'greeting'.
Although no more than a viaduct with a flight of stairs, the station building was a welcome warmth in relation to the sub-zero temperatures of the fog outside, Gregory welcomed the contrast. A bizzare hotch-potch of mock-tudor and baleful Victoriana stepped out of the six foot visibility in which Gregory could see into. A successful band-meeting in which a schedule, band name and practice routine for the new year had been decided faded into a mere footnote.
A rather fat, black cat sat on the booking hall counter and 'slow-blinked' a nonchalant greeting as the solitary customer stepped through the decorative portcullis. Obviously cuddling up to the only source of warmth the cat homed in on his exposed arm as Gregory paid for the forthcoming journey. It was, hopefully, enough time for the final train to get to the final stop on the journey to Victoria (likened to a trip into Charon's domain). It wouldn't have been a surprise if the Station Master had told him no more trains would be stopping at Patricroft. Very few ever did...
The ticket begrudingly ejected from the machine and span through the slot on the counter, much to the cat's evident interest. Gregory fumbled through gloved hands and pocketed the token. A mere formality. He strongly doubted the tickets were even needed at this time of the night. The stairs lay a good climb away, under an arch, echoing the mock-tudor decoration on the station's exterior. What could have been a mouse scuttled through a rusted air-brick in the darkness at the base of the stairs. "Thank God the cat didn't see that", Greg thought. He doubted he would have been able to content with the mauling of a mouse, OR cat at this time of night. A fragment of the 'monster-munch' the mouse had snaffled crunched noisily under Greg's feet as he ascended the dingy stairs.
The temperature dropped a good six degrees as he reached the top. A train on the facing platform squealed out of the station depositing a rather bewildered and doddery gentleman. Gregory wished he too were nearer home. If he could fast-forward time only twenty minutes, he would be home. His bladder pressed home the urgency of his journey. "Quickly, please, Mr Daniel!".
After what seemed like an hour (more likely, ten minutes), the station's cat braved the -6c of the platform and sat on Gregory's knee. No! Of any time this feline could have picked to drop it's considerable girth on his midriff, it was now. Almost without provocation, Gregory fondled the cat's head and ears and was rewarded with contented purring. The cat twisted it's head to make eye contact and revealed a battered name-tag. "Dickens" it read. Just as Gregory's bladder had grown accustomed to the oppressive pressure it was under, the train howled in under the decrepit arches at the far end of the visible twenty feet or so. The cat remarked at the, some-what disturbing, way the wooden sleepers beneath the old 'corridor' carriages bowed and buckled. Stopping at the top of the barely lit stair-well, Dickens slow-blinked an almost familiar farewell.
Gregory wondered what sort of thoughts were going though the minds of the passengers of this journey, back in 1831 when the line opened. A trip on the FIRST PASSENGER RAILWAY LINE IN THE WORLD! To be among the pioneers of this age of miracles!? Oh, to have ridden a twenty mile journey in two hours! How the stomach churned in the maelstrom of finally knowing limitless possibilities!? The more accurate view, however, was "Not much". They were probably worrying whether the fire in the front room was going to be lit, by the time they got home. Would their nearest and dearest have the kettle on, by the time they slogged up the hill at the other end of their daily journey? How much did the comforting feel of the station's cat on their lap make them desperate for the loo?
No matter how long the station and line would be there, how cold the Winters got, as long as there were people to use it (occasionally), the links between past, present and future would always be maintained. We were, are, and always will be quintessentially the same as ever...
News: I may have a girlfriend. Who can be sure...?
Have a good New year, everyone. See you soon xxx
v78 @_@
The station loomed ominously in the fog ahead. This wasn't the first and certainly not the last occasion he would be here. The banal and forlorn lettering of 'welcome to Newton-le-willows' hung on the wrought iron frame in the gloom. Streaks of rust cascaded behind the mounting points as if tears accompanying the incongruousness of the 'greeting'.
Although no more than a viaduct with a flight of stairs, the station building was a welcome warmth in relation to the sub-zero temperatures of the fog outside, Gregory welcomed the contrast. A bizzare hotch-potch of mock-tudor and baleful Victoriana stepped out of the six foot visibility in which Gregory could see into. A successful band-meeting in which a schedule, band name and practice routine for the new year had been decided faded into a mere footnote.
A rather fat, black cat sat on the booking hall counter and 'slow-blinked' a nonchalant greeting as the solitary customer stepped through the decorative portcullis. Obviously cuddling up to the only source of warmth the cat homed in on his exposed arm as Gregory paid for the forthcoming journey. It was, hopefully, enough time for the final train to get to the final stop on the journey to Victoria (likened to a trip into Charon's domain). It wouldn't have been a surprise if the Station Master had told him no more trains would be stopping at Patricroft. Very few ever did...
The ticket begrudingly ejected from the machine and span through the slot on the counter, much to the cat's evident interest. Gregory fumbled through gloved hands and pocketed the token. A mere formality. He strongly doubted the tickets were even needed at this time of the night. The stairs lay a good climb away, under an arch, echoing the mock-tudor decoration on the station's exterior. What could have been a mouse scuttled through a rusted air-brick in the darkness at the base of the stairs. "Thank God the cat didn't see that", Greg thought. He doubted he would have been able to content with the mauling of a mouse, OR cat at this time of night. A fragment of the 'monster-munch' the mouse had snaffled crunched noisily under Greg's feet as he ascended the dingy stairs.
The temperature dropped a good six degrees as he reached the top. A train on the facing platform squealed out of the station depositing a rather bewildered and doddery gentleman. Gregory wished he too were nearer home. If he could fast-forward time only twenty minutes, he would be home. His bladder pressed home the urgency of his journey. "Quickly, please, Mr Daniel!".
After what seemed like an hour (more likely, ten minutes), the station's cat braved the -6c of the platform and sat on Gregory's knee. No! Of any time this feline could have picked to drop it's considerable girth on his midriff, it was now. Almost without provocation, Gregory fondled the cat's head and ears and was rewarded with contented purring. The cat twisted it's head to make eye contact and revealed a battered name-tag. "Dickens" it read. Just as Gregory's bladder had grown accustomed to the oppressive pressure it was under, the train howled in under the decrepit arches at the far end of the visible twenty feet or so. The cat remarked at the, some-what disturbing, way the wooden sleepers beneath the old 'corridor' carriages bowed and buckled. Stopping at the top of the barely lit stair-well, Dickens slow-blinked an almost familiar farewell.
Gregory wondered what sort of thoughts were going though the minds of the passengers of this journey, back in 1831 when the line opened. A trip on the FIRST PASSENGER RAILWAY LINE IN THE WORLD! To be among the pioneers of this age of miracles!? Oh, to have ridden a twenty mile journey in two hours! How the stomach churned in the maelstrom of finally knowing limitless possibilities!? The more accurate view, however, was "Not much". They were probably worrying whether the fire in the front room was going to be lit, by the time they got home. Would their nearest and dearest have the kettle on, by the time they slogged up the hill at the other end of their daily journey? How much did the comforting feel of the station's cat on their lap make them desperate for the loo?
No matter how long the station and line would be there, how cold the Winters got, as long as there were people to use it (occasionally), the links between past, present and future would always be maintained. We were, are, and always will be quintessentially the same as ever...
News: I may have a girlfriend. Who can be sure...?
Have a good New year, everyone. See you soon xxx
v78 @_@ VIEW 9 of 9 COMMENTS
good luck on the girlfriend thing, i have some friends that would love to date you, im not sure if youd wanna date them though ?
hope you had a fun new years eve, and all the best for 04 !
xXx
jacqui