I cross these tracks twice a day every day of my working week. The main line to London runs between our office car park and the main road. It's a manned crossing, so if the gate is open, it's safe to cross. So each day I do so, and never pause to even so much as glance down the track.
Except for this one day, at the end of August when, on foot for a change rather than driving, I did just that. August is beginning to feel long gone now; as the Bard said, albeit in a quite different context, summer's lease hath all too short a date.
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