Jaye Marie and Anita Dawes

The unmistakable sound was a bit distracting. I’m no expert on steam trains… though I used to know a good deal about them, having listened to my younger brother for hours, but I  remember them… and that rhythm of wheels on rails, the wail of the whistle and the smell of steam trains is pure nostalgia.  So many memories… snippets of trips to Scarborough and Whitby on the coast, frequent trips to Ilkley, my grandparents pointing out the ancient sites and telling me stories from folklore and legend along the way… and clearing the shed, all I could hear beyond the birdsong was a distant echo of childhood. I ignored it as best I could… then grabbing the camera and the dog, set off down the lane.

It was late by the time we got there. Thomas the Tank Engine had already been put to bed, though his unmistakable blue…