Found myself unexpectedly fascinated with one of the old bridges that cross the cycle path, formerly a railway branch line (not the old London line as I thought) while out running yesterday. It was easy for me to keep my eyes open for objects of interest, as a calf injury was hindering me yet again.
This whole summer has been one of "being crocked". Blame the cricket.
This railway bridge is encrusted with lichen and dirt, the deeply embedded smoke of a thousand ghostly trains beheaded by Doctor Beeching, and the modern scrawl of the sadly witless local graffiti artists. Earlier in the year, the much missed kingfisher would erupt from the greenery just beyond it as I interrupted its stickleback hunting with my heavy tread.
It may not be the most interesting piece of history, but it is historic none the less.
All text and images copyright CreamCrackeredNature 04.09.15