Bridge of sighs

Twice a day, every school day, between the ages of 11 and 18, I crossed a bridge. It was a railway bridge near Coulsdon North Station, about halfway between the bus stop and our house. Downhill in the mornings, uphill in the afternoons, about a mile each way but it felt a lot longer. Time to think, time to dream.

This is the bridge that Youngest Son will be walking over on Monday when school starts back again after the summer. It crosses the Cairn Water and is only about 500 metres from our house. It was repainted early in 2013 so looks very clean but the weeds are beginning to grow again.