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#trains-spam-street
There's something special about a named train, the Mallard, the Royal Scot, more romantic than a mere number. Ours was the Red Rose, pride of LMS. The London-Liverpool express flahing North, four-thirty on the dot, a sight not to be missed, exciting street players of jacks and hopscotch. She thundered through the blue brick tunnel, erupted into the grass-lined cutting, swallowed our footbridge in smog and sulphur. The we loyal fans ran home to eat our spam.
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Feb 7, 2016
Feb 7, 2016 at 1:50 PM UTC
tony-luxton
Street Players
There's something special about a named train, the Mallard, the Royal Scot, more romantic than a mere number. Ours was the Red Rose, pride of LMS. The London-Liverpool express flahing North, four-thirty on the dot, a sight not to be missed, exciting street players of jacks and hopscotch. She thundered through the blue brick tunnel, erupted into the grass-lined cutting, swallowed our footbridge in smog and sulphur. The we loyal fans ran home to eat our spam.
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