The Train Journey Comments

It was a dreamy evening, one which brought the romantic sparse mist which
covers wide wrought iron platforms, like Victorian melodramas.

I was being 'Pollocked' by the puddle making, clothes dappling stuff, which soaks socks, stockings, boots and shoes, sticking the aul drowned ticket collector to their chevron Sunday best. I spied a damp flaking bench and climbed wearily aboard.
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