13.16 To Leeds

Did you get that last text? says a woman across the aisle, very loudly into her mobile phone. The couple in the seats in front do not appear startled. An area of Manchester Victoria Station under development is crammed full of cranes and diggers of various sizes, yellow and red with names like Ultra Boom and Liebherr The sky's the limit, Easi Utilities and Speedy. Miles of blue plastic mesh form gentle barriers alongside the track as we head towards Rochdale. We pass Brewery Junction and the Sapphire Garage, the Sharp project (entrance next left via Thorp Road) and the train cleaning and servicing depot.
An announcement describes the train as an 'express' service which merely seems to mean it misses the first three stations, though it stops at a further seven en route for Leeds. It chugs along, noisy and lurchy, at its usual pace, proudly missing Moston, Mills Hill and Castleton.
The trees show areas of changing colour amongst the dusty green leaves of late summer, then the startling red of hawthorn berries.
A strange-looking man with a Frankenstein's monster haircut waits on the platform at Rochdale station, but evidently not for this train, somewhat to my relief.
So many other train journeys are woven into the experience of this one. Other September days, when the weather teetered on a knife edge between summer and autumn, the sky pale blue with fine-spun white cloud, at any moment ready to turn the sunshine hazy, the air cool. The camp young man in Next, where I purchased the only desirable item of clothing in the whole shop - a stripy tee shirt - using the gift card I was given when I left my job, complained of being indoors when the sun was shining. He said that yesterday he'd gone out in his sunglasses for a cigarette break, and it had gone all dull, but he was hoping the sun would be shining today when he got off work at 5.30. I hoped so too.