From today's Herald.
Just recently, I took a
round-trip train ride from the east Borders to London and back. For reasons
involving my own inability to plan anything, it was not even half as simple as
it sounds. It was interesting, though.
Anyone
who means to go from Berwick and finds himself watching sheep being herded
across the track at Barrhill on a fine morning in South Ayrshire probably
deserves no sympathy. But for preposterously complicated reasons I had to get
from the Borders to London’s National Portrait Gallery, then to Wigtown’s book
festival, then to Glasgow, then home. As far as railways go, it was an
education.
Leave
aside the fact that much of Britain is badly served. Old halts that once supported
communities are long gone. In the Borders, we know this as well as anyone. In
our context, all the fine talk of HS2, far less the gigantic sums involved, can
sound faintly amusing. The idea that trains are supposed to connect people is
as risible here as it is in Galloway.