If you visit the flat fenlands of Cambridgeshire on a clear day, and walk along the ruler-lined channels and droves, you might – if you’re lucky – see a freight train pulling itself out of the horizon like a conjuror’s endless scarf. Stand and watch, as long as you can. The train traces the top of the level land, wagon by coloured wagon, until the whole distance is trimmed with its purpose. Your attention will drift off, and drift back in, and that train will still be there, streaming along. And even when you can no longer hear its roar – when the wind’s slap of silence takes over your ears again – you’ll still be able to see the freight carriages, taking their time to vanish from that bare landscape.
