It’s possible I have Dr Beeching to thank for the fact that I am standing on a railway bridge overlooking an abandoned train line in the West Sussex countryside as an April shower unleashes its full force for a committed but mercifully brief few minutes.
According to Michele Facer, the woman who has led me through tranquil woodland via some extremely deep mud, the famous Beeching cuts, which closed many of England’s branch lines 60 years ago, may have been the commuters’ pain, but they’ve been the nature lover’s gain in towns such as picture-perfect Midhurst, which has avoided most of the sprawling development experienced by places more easily accessible to London.
