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Letter to the Editor Dear Editor


Below is a transcript of a handwritten note made by my late stepfather, Rodney Hewson, a resident of Melbourn in the 1970s. An accountant and Company Secretary, he commuted to London daily and mostly by train. The changes since it was written have not been dramatic (although one would hardly describe David Piggott as 'antique') yet the note describes a certain quaintness which perhaps disappeared with the building of the bypass and its underpass and with the electrification of the Royston to Cambridge line.


Living in Cambridge at the time, I well remember the diesel shuttle and on one occasion having to take a taxi to Cambridge from Royston when the last train from King's Cross arrived after the last diesel had departed. It ended up being a rather expensive trip to London. Later, on our wedding day my late wife and I started our honeymoon journey on that diesel and some of the wedding guests trailed our cab to Cambridge station (our destination being a secret) where they decorated all the train's windows with shaving foam and bunting. My blushing young bride was, on that one occasion, pleased to have to change trains at Royston. Fortunately the diesel train driver and guard took it all in good spirit and at Royston wished us well for the future!


Howard Gascoyne, My Journey Through the Churchyard at Melbour n, stooping under the ancient yew


trees. Then a short distance up the narrow curving road past the Pink Geranium Restaurant, on over the little stream. This stream is incredibly clear, about shin deep, so


me 4 feet wide and in May, small white flowers float on the top of water amongst the wild water cress.


Then off across the fields to Meldreth Station. If the clock on the Church tower strikes a quarter-to there is plenty of time to catch the “58”. First through the metal turnstile, or follow the path trodden around it then across the first field. On the left, a small paddock arranged for horse jumping and on the right a clean and well-kept turkey farm, not a battery farm thoug


h. At the end of this field, the


path, which is dead straight from start to end by the station. One crosses another stream and through the hedge into a large corn field. In


16


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