The Last Train

This is the diseased tube station at Crouch End where once upon a time gents in tall stovepipe hats and frock coats would have got out of a big puffing steam train and gone home for an rubber or two of whist with Mr Marjoribanks the district surveyor and Parsons the cheesemonger. I do not know of course, that is just my imagination. Anyway it is diseased now and nothing remains except the platforms, and some cheerful people with bikes and dogs.

Or in my case just bike.

It is amazing as the graffiti that covers all the bridges and walls en route is far more exciting and colourful than anything the council could dream up to attract people for a family day out along London’s heritage-rich Parkland Walk. It is like being in some post-apocalyptic urban dystopia (good writing).

The winding path through Queen’s Wood in Highgate, as it would have looked in a faded old sepia toned Victorian type autoluminograph (not really of course it is just me playing about). I was having a lot of super fun as it is a beautiful area of ancient woodland and full of history ekcetera, and great for bikling through on a cheery summer day. It would be a bit different though if it was soaked in sinister inky twilight and full of rogues lurking behind every tree, or if a deadly strangler was roaming the wood.

There is not though so here I am relaxing at the start of the official Parkland Walk, abandon hope all ye who enter here and no motorbikes.

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