Harping on the trains & barrells & chickens
The race. We used to play at the railway station. We must’ve been aged ten or eleven. We used to hide behind a pile of oil barrells and wait for a train to come and then cross the shunting yard running as fast as we could. It wasn’t more than seven or eight tracks to cross. The chicken race was to wait for the train, to wait until the very last second, and then cross the rails in front of the train and to have just enough time to pull oneself up onto the platform. Without the train managing to hit you… It was a stupid game, of course.