Every Man Needs A Shed

Life and Games (but mostly games) from Tony Boydell: Dad, Husband and Independent UK Game Designer, Agricola fanboy and jealous admirer of Carl Chudyk. www.surprisedstaregames.co.uk
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Parallel Lines

Anthony Boydell
United Kingdom
Newent. Glos
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Every homo sapiens needs an outbuilding within the curtelage of their property
Welcome...to my Shed!
For those who have been following this blog for the longest time - and the various Yorkshire posts in particular - what happened yesterday (Wednesday) will not be a surprise in the slightest because I went on a train journey.

Ah, but, wait! It's not just any train, oh no; and before the joys of steam and soot comes the obligatory trek through the glorious countryside following the Rail Trail.

Diverting to the village stores to get a hat (I'd left my other one in the restaurant the night previous) because it was gonna be another scorcher, I was held up at the checkout by a queue of variously wheel-device-supported pensioners: Jesus Christ and the Choir Invisible, it was like being in the middle of some horrific sit-com! If they weren't moaning about the prices OR getting their wheels stuck in the spokes of someone else's wheels OR face-planting in to the horse brasses because they missed the (many) warning signs*, they were complaining about how hot it was and wandering about like the living dead!

We left the apocalyptic shamblers to their cream teas and sucky-sweets and proceeded down 'The Incline's cinder path and in to the valley bottom.

To keep Arthur motivated, I've taken to dividing the route in to 'phases' to indicate our ever-closer progress; for me, the whole damn 4 miles whizzes by in a veritable heartbeat - just as I'm settling in to a comfortable stride (despite a line of blisters on my right foot), we're at the Engine sheds...

...and the rise:

We know the timings so well that we lunched in the Old School and watched the 1230 diesel-ing off toward Pickering; then a visit to the Gift Shop (K & A) and a newly-spied secondhand bookshop (me) - Lord help me but it contained nothing but railway books! I'd have missed the train had I not snapped myself to attention, picked Nock's Irish Steam off the nearest shelf and high-tailed it out of there (I paid first, natch).

The day stayed breathlessly hot and skin-sizzling throughout - not an issue particularly given I spent most of the there-and-back chuffings with my head stuck out of the window: dreaming.

On the way back, an old gentleman was occupying the opposite window and kept calling out helpful comments re: speed, gradient and so-on. An ex-HGV driver and long-time rail enthusiast, he had a slipped left-side to his face telling of a stroke, survived; his affected speech was difficult to understand until I'd tuned in - we chatted for the last half of the trip, occasionally pausing to disappear back to the rushing air and the smuts.

Our slow plod homeward - from Goathland Station (aka Hogsmeade in the movies) - meant we missed the village stores by a single minute, which left us without Tonic Water for our Gin; a minor blip, however, in an otherwise glorious day.

*fair play: the old boy got up, brushed himself down and disappeared in to the deluxe Fudges.
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