Freshfield Halt, Sussex
Railway enthusiasts have, in different parts of the British Isles, rescued ancient steam engines, lovingly restored them, and are allowed to run them on special sections of rail. You discover that the driver, the guard, the conductor, and other personnel are in real life schoolmasters, professors, shopkeepers, chemists or merely retired train buffs who give their services free so that this generation can experience the feeling of real train travel, can smell that magic, acrid perfume of coal, soot and steam, can thrill to the owl-like hoot of the engine itself, can be sent into a trance by the rattle, clank and hiss of the train and then settle to that rhythmic clackety-clack like the heartbeat of the train itself. Eagerly, we wended our way down to the charmingly named Bluebell Railway.
The Bluebell Railway
... So we arrived at the railway station and there was the train, gleaming and glittering, wearing a rakish scarf of steam over one shoulder, and behind it the elegant carriages, quite rightly designated as First, Second and Third Class. The heavy doors slammed with a satisfying clunk and had great leather straps with which to lower the windows, the more easily to get sparks in your eyes or soot on your nose - all experiences that enhance any railway journey that is a railway journey.
...It halted miles away from anywhere at a small wooden platform bearing a large white sign saying 'Freshfield Halt. Please signal if you wish the train to stop.' We got out on to this rickety platform and then extricated from the guard's van the next form of transport we were going to use on our journey - a large sparkling tandem bicycle.