Not quite the last train to Clarkesville..those school boy days when the Monkees were the highlight of the television week flooded back when i was stood at this station waiting for thr last train from Manchester to this small out post....
This small station Woodley in hicksville has in these modern times read it's own Requiem not everything privitised by Maggie Thatcher has blossomed into the promises pouring out of her mouth as if hot Elephant piss....it has become unmaned the roaring fire in winter has long gone the station masters house converted into flats and now an ugly ticket machine with a mass of posters whispering IF you don't buy a ticket from this here machine we will fine you..triple xxx pounds this is a bid to get rid of conductors on trains whom are quite able to collect your fare with cheer all thought there are one or two grumpy sods but then where would life be with them goblins.
I do indeed hope the coming generations scream enough of machines lets talk human even if we hide our mobile phones beind our backs.... for could there be a day when the only voice you hear is when your mother sighs with relief on giving birth to you but then again i recall once more the 60's tune in the year 2525...however let me not sink to low today i wish to trawl through today's cabbage patch in some sort of humour be thankful warm weather is going to come soon and just to think all those springing t-shirts on fems and what gems indeed hide beneath with thoughts i'd like a pair too...arrrrh life....take care all whom pass this way...So Goeth....
