Most evenings when I have to go outside briefly on some chore or errand, I find myself wandering to the end of the garden and undertaking a quick inspection of the permanent way. Clearing away the odd dead leaf or misplaced lump of soil, I stroll the short length of my line like a ganger with his assigned mileage and muse on the future opportunities for running trains.

I also have my anorak on, and a little hat that says “Engine Driver”! (Kidding, but it can only be a matter of time at the present rate.)