Waiting

When I wait in Perth for a train south, it often feels like the station itself is waiting too, no more sure than I that a service from Inverness or Aberdeen will pass this way any time soon. Sure, there's a printed timetable, but it is no more than a record of past experience, which may or may not be a reliable guide to the future.

After a while I tired of pacing up and down the platforms, camera in hand, dispirited by the uniform grey light, and opened the door to the waiting room: overpoweringly hot and bright, and arranged as if a theatrical performance was about to begin.