I wanted to catch an early train today so I set the alarm, expecting to wake up to another miserable day, but not so. The sun is shining and all's right with the world. I'm taking the long route back to Hamilton heading up in to the highlands and changing at Inverness. The first leg is from Montrose to Aberdeen, and then on to Inverness. There's a young couple sitting opposite having a snack: a baguette and dip and a bag of black grapes. All the trains seem to have a food trolley if not a dining car but what this couple are having looks a lot more interesting than the snacks on the train's menu.
There are 13 kinds of chips, sweets and drinks, including miniatures of whisky, gin, etc, sandwiches and soup. You can also get a pot of porridge, but I'm not tempted.
Next stop is Inverurie, a good Scottish name. I'm expecting to find snow at Aviemore and I might get off there for lunch and catch the next train on. At Insch, there was a group of children waiting on the station platform. I noticed they were dressed in old-fashioned clothes and each one was carrying a little square box. Then the penny dropped; they were dressed as children during WW2 and the box carried their gas mask. I tried to take a picture but I was too busy returning their waves.
Leaving Inverness we travelled over a fantastic viaduct which I've seen in advertisements for Scottish train journeys. Aviemore was disappointing because most of the snow has gone but it's an interesting journey through a bleak landscape with the only green coming from plantations of pine trees. The rivers and 'burns' are swollen with snow-melt but the grass is straw-coloured. There are still blue patches but the clouds dominate the sky. People say that the sky in Australia seems higher than here and I can understand how you could get that impression.
Every now and again we pass the ruins of an ancient croft, stone-built but tiny and then there will be a grand mansion, home to one the great landlords from feudal times. Many of them have a flag flying at half-mast in honour of Maggie Thatcher. She's not universally loved in Scotland and I smiled at the proliferation of hand-written signs carried by demonstrators complaining about the £10 million funeral cost: Iron Lady, rust in peace; Ding-Dong, the witch is dead; and The De'il's Awa' (straight out of Rabbie Burns).
I was supposed to change trains at Perth but I dozed off and find myself in Edinburgh. No matter, I'm not short of time and my rail pass will cover the extra distance. As a bonus, this short leg will take me over the Forth Bridge.
As I ride in this train to Edinburgh, I can't help thinking of another train going to Edinburgh in 1879, crossing the Tay river when the bridge collapsed. It's still Britain's worst train disaster. It was immortalised in a poem by Wiliam McGonagall who wrote:
It goes on, of course, and you can find it on the Internet but I can't resist giving you the delight of the last two lines:
As I ride in this train to Edinburgh, I can't help thinking of another train going to Edinburgh in 1879, crossing the Tay river when the bridge collapsed. It's still Britain's worst train disaster. It was immortalised in a poem by Wiliam McGonagall who wrote:
Beautiful Railway Bridge of the Silv’ry Tay!
Alas! I am very sorry to say
That ninety lives have been taken away
On the last Sabbath day of 1879,
Which will be remember’d for a very long time.
It goes on, of course, and you can find it on the Internet but I can't resist giving you the delight of the last two lines:
For the stronger we our houses do build,
The less chance we have of being killed.
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