Some mornings I walk along to the station next to where I work to buy some lunch. And photograph this space. I love the light, the patterns and what people are doing here. Spectacularly compelling. Well for me, anyway. But then I bloody love railway stations.
Overnight to Scunthorpe this week, to do some teaching. In a training centre. It was a bit surreal; there were lots of lines, some babies and very few people.
Earlier this year I went straight from a meeting in London to an overnight work gig in Birmingham. It was all a bit surreal (involving Alan Bryman and Angry Birds impressions). The following lunchtime after an intense focus group workshoppy thing, I rushed off to catch the train back home. In the short walk from the hotel to Birmingham New Street, I thought I was in Manchester. That really threw me when I got into the station and couldn’t find the ticket machines, and the trains/platforms had all disappeared. Continue reading
mydaftlife 