The crossing into darkness ...

There are now automatic barriers guarding the level crossing at East Stoke - a CCTV camera relays images to a control room in Basingstoke - 

Once we had to wait for Big Bob to open the crossing gates by hand - he drove a black Mitsubishi Warrior - 

If the fancy took him, Bob would take his time to emerge from the crossing keepers' hut - he told me once that he played cricket for a village team - I could imagine him, knocking the ball for six, sinking pints of Old Thumper after the match - 

One of Bob's colleagues was a birder - he'd scan the sky over the water meadows with silver binoculars - he had the lean sensitive face of a scholar - I'd talk to him sometimes on summer evenings - we might see bats, flickering black darts, or even a barn owl, with its terrible gaze - 

Then there was Stroma, who created a secret garden behind the keepers' hut - she'd chaff old Mr Matcham, with his shock of white hair and mischievous boyish smile - 

Now the hut is gone, and with it the crossing keepers - 

One night in October, I left the house, to stand by the barriers - they were down - ferocious light illuminated the rails - 

If I crossed over, I thought, I would enter a place that was unknown to me - shadows would cluster around me - I would smell smoke - I would walk upon ashes -  

October 

2014

The railway crossing

East Stoke 

The Isle of Purbeck