Am I the only one old enough to remember when trains had corridors all down one side of the carriage, and bench seats in compartments with doors? You could walk right through the train, provided of course it wasn't a summer weekend train when the corridors would be full of standing room only passengers. You could even gawp at the posh people in first class.
Nowadays you have to walk down a central aisle following the refreshment trolley and the train manager checking tickets. Coward that I am I didn't venture into first class (coach A at the front of the train) or the quiet coach (coach F as the rear of the train) for fear of starting a riot. Hey ho, the windows don't have leather straps anymore either, and whatever happened to steam?
On this note of nostalgia my longest-serving friend and I walked around the hill after tea. She used to walk it with her great aunt, I walked it with my father. We recreated the experience together, admiring the view, pointing out changes to each other (new hotel, more clay workings) and remarking on the houses, what was new, who had lived where, where we had dreamt of living as children. Times change but memory and place is a bedrock to experience.
No comments:
Post a Comment