Watching the station at Williton on the West Somerset Railway it struck me how quiet railway stations can be. Now I am hoping to visit one or two next week, I am being released for one day from this hermitage, and will travel by rail, not steam sadly. Watching Williton I am struck by the silence.
Normal railway stations of whatever size, follow a similar pattern. People will stand about, at great distance form one another, looking at their watches and comparing what that reads to what the rail time indicator states. They will follow this by glaring down the line in a bid to hurry their train. Their journey may be for business or pleasure, the start or end of a holiday, or even just for a day trip to some town along the line. Many and varied are their journeys.
Others, and all platforms have at least one, stand at the far end of each, camera in hand, awaiting a train. Many 'enthusiasts (I dare not say 'anorak') know what trains are running, their numbers, and possibly the drivers life story also. I tend to keep aloof from such as they at stations.
When the 11:47 arrives there is immediate action. Passengers, sorry, today they are called 'customers' by rail companies, anyway, passengers move towards the doors expectantly, people tumble off, glad or not to be at their destination. Movement fills the arena as bodies progress this way and that, luggage may be heaved on or off, children dragged in similar fashion mostly to stop them falling under the wheels. A cluster ascend the stairs following the 'Way Out' sign, only those for the next, 4 mins late, train stand around once again checking the watches. The anor enthusiasts discuss the departing '185' or '68,' and prepare for the next adventure.
Suddenly it is all silence.
The last carriages disappear into the distance, a railway employee makes his way back into his office, all stands till. Only the station cat moves, and that to be closer to the one woman sitting quietly awaiting the next train. Station cats rarely belong to the railway, they live nearby and come into the station for company, and return home at eating times. When one of the two station cats at Huddersfield passed away last year Twitter was full of tweets of condolence from those who have been subjects of the cat while waiting. Some have fan clubs!
In the siding a pair of wagons stand tall. No-one appears to know why they remain there, one day they will vanish and watchers will be none the wiser. Now they stand silent. Not to far from the station vehicles pass apparently ignorant of the railway. They belong to another distant world. A space surrounds the line, outside life continues, inside all stand quiet.
For station staff there is always work to do, only a hand full operate a station today but in times past the station master ensured his men were always busy, and experienced men learnt how to look busy at quiet times.
Silence reigns for quite a while.
Suddenly, as people begin once again to gather movement returns, platform staff wander about, in larger stations at least, passengers gather, the cat continues to dominate the public, and then in the distance a small object appears slowly heading this way.
Again there is movement, noise of swishing doors, people speaking, seeking directions, shuffling towards the exit, then silence once again.
I think I prefer the silence...
