Pentrepiod Station.

I drove up to Bala today; I’ve not been since I cycled there with a couple of friends one Whit bank holiday week-end in the mid ‘60s. I recognised absolutely nothing at all of either the town or its surrounding scenery. After a spot of lunch consisting of a very strange item described as a cheese toastie, I drove around the lake stopping t every conceivable parking space to explore and photograph.
 
I was rather taken with the simplicity of Pentrepiod Station on this narrow guage railway. The bushes provided the al fresco toilets but I could find neither the ticket office nor the waiting room. I had climbed over the gate when I heard the “Toot” of the oncoming train and just had time to get the camera out of its bag before the train appeared (see first extra) though I missed the friendly wave from the driver.
 
The solitude of the toilet was broken by the ravening hordes in the second extra who were reminiscent of the Assyrians coming down like wolves on the fold. Fortunately, since I wasn’t carrying a bucket, they quickly dispersed.