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…