Another memory – hiding behind my father, furled in his coat, as the coal trains roared into Aberdeen railway station. The fear has abated but the wonder has remained – the sight of a steam locomotive always finds the four year-old.
Now as a photographer I see them more and more as thoroughbreds – galloping past with the wheels, valves, pistons and rods below the footplate a metal skeleton of bones and muscles, sweating oil and breathing steam.
