In search of lost time on the journey to Shrub Hill

It's good to fill in the gaps and at long last I've seen Worcester Shrub Hill.

In the old days – the old Sporting Life days, I should say – I'd play the tables and, depending upon how well things had gone, consider the early-morning rattler from Paddington to Shrub Hill, just to see what it was like. I thought of it as a romantic journey, though I concede this may have been a minority view.

Nailsea to York and back by train seldom passes without incident. Last year on the return journey we were held up at Gloucester, where someone had appropriated a tractor and driven it into a bridge, dislodging the brickwork and sending it down on to the line.