From Planet 231
by Angharad Penrhyn Jones
Trains have been an important feature of my life. I learned to drive only two years ago, just before turning 40; until then I dragged babies and dogs and bikes onto trains without a second thought. I had no choice: buses make me nauseous, and cycling on Welsh trunk roads feels too much like Russian roulette. I now have a driving license and an old Skoda parked outside my house, and yet I still prefer to run for the train in Machynlleth, a rucksack bouncing against my back. Old habits die hard.
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