What better place could
there be on a rainy afternoon than a first-class railway carriage? On this day
out, it was none of your B.R. stuff - this was the Primrose Line, bedded down
in the Devonshire countryside. As I squirmed myself into the armchair and felt
the lord-like leather and the bum-nestling cushions, huge rolling waves of nostalgia
rushed over me. This was history on wheels and the ageless sepia prints made
me feel the velvet comfort of sensing that I'm a past person.
can be magical, as maybe you will find . . .