A spare weekend: we went wandering, in the car, and on foot. We drifted through the moorland village of Levisham, as untouched a village as you’ll find in Yorkshire, with one road wandering through it across a broad green. Ambling downhill, we reached the railway station. We watched a train pull in, and shunt about, great clouds of steam rising in the December cold.
Prowling around the station, we discovered its Artist In Residence, Christopher Ware, in his studio. We chatted a little while, and studied his prints of bucolic trains. He can’t have many visitors on a day like that; hopefully we were a welcome distraction for a few minutes.
Here at Symbolic Towers, we pay attention to our readers. If they send in tips, we pass them on. Mr E Shrdlu of Clacton writes…
The Plain People of the Internet: You say what? You had a letter? From a reader? Whose name is E Shrdlu? Honestly?
Me: Shush there. Be quiet and listen.
The Plain People of the Internet: If you say so. But don’t expect us to believe it.
… E Shrdlu of Clacton, who writes:
People who liked Friday’s post may be interested in…
The Plain People of the Internet: You mean, people who like long posts about the history of the London Underground? When posts like yesterday’s get a much better reader reaction? What are you thinking about?
Me: Come on there, stop interrupting. And since when have I been bothered about reader reaction, in any case?
The Plain People of the Internet: We’re only saying. Offering a tidbit ourselves, you could say.
… may be interested in the book London’s Secret Tubes by Emmerson and Beard, which goes into all that stuff. At book length.
The Plain People of the Internet: Now, we wouldn’t mind seeing photos of that beautiful Yorkshire scenery you were wittering on about. That “unutterable beauty” stuff.
Me: It was “unassuming beauty”. And I don’t have any – the car would have rolled down the hill. Carnage.
The Plain People of the Internet: My god, that’s terrible. The joke, we mean.
Me: If you’re so plural, shouldn’t that be “our god?”. The best I can do is photos of trains down in the mist-filled dale. And why shouldn’t there be real people called E Shrdlu, from Clacton?
The Plain People of the Internet: Flann O’Brien would sue, were he still alive.