I set out early this morning for my seven hour journey to Manchester.  The taxi driver asked why I had chosen to travel four hours by train, rather than forty minutes by plane.  Quite honestly, the thought hadn’t occurred to me.

I relish a long train journey.  Why would I swap a gallop through the countryside for an ear-aching descent through the sky?  Give me a window seat to watch the countryside zip past, and I’ll happily drift off watching the clouds up above me.  I like the slow move from familiar country to new terrain, its steady shift through rolling green farmland, old brick industries and silversharp complexes.

I had plans to knit, listen to podcasts and have a good long nap.  But with a new book and renewed appreciation for my old ipod with it’s long battery life, I didn’t get round to any of it.  Those new mittens and Radio 4 catchup will just have to wait for another day.  Perhaps the journey back…