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Its late summer of 1966, six months after closure of Combwich and a Class 22 diesel hydraulic arrives to collect wagons of scrap prior to the lifting of the rails.
This is now the site of a scruffy housing estate, you know, the type that has pebbledash prefabricated concrete garages, dumped cars, hundreds of random wheelie bins with broken lids and torn refuse sacks that the local fox population have been exploring the contents of.
Apart from the odd railway named road like ‘Beechings Close’ or ‘Silent Whistle Way’ you’d never know that there had once a railway here. Though the railway has been gone for so long, few will even get the railway connection.
Toot toot