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Explanation I was privileged to meet the son of the Buntingforsd Branches last "Station Master". Just prior to closure his Dad was the Station Master for the line's freight facilities.
Does anyone have any memories regarding the man's father or the little boy who bounced about the place waving to all and sundry. If he was as vivacious as a child as he was in old age I'm sure that somebody must remember him.
A Station Master’s Son. (RIP)
The Germans' bombs so frightened mum
That dad, us from Colchester, moved.
To rural backwater sad and glum
Called Braughing. I wasn’t amused.
A boy of nine does as he’s told,
I just counted the days away.
Till I was adult, mature, old.
Nineteen was when I had my say.
“I will live life with abandon.
No Railway Station can hold me.”
Went off down the road to Standon
So mum could still do my laundry.
Passengers went in sixty-three.
Goods lasted another few years
No one outside other than me
For the lost line shed any tears
Mum and dad in the station house
Long after the railway had gone.
Father went first, quiet as a mouse,
Mother somehow seemed to hold on.
Mum died, empty the station stood.
I went and made a rash purchase
I’m back in my old home for good.
Old bird midst his much loved perches.
I wrote this poem following the meeting but never got round to giving him a copy. Unfortunately I've left it a little too late. It's based on what he said to me and my writers' group when he showed us round his ex-station home,
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