A damp start to the day and one which had me heading to the river and wishing I’d stayed dry myself the previous night. Still, one way to cure a thick head is to get moving, so I was. Despite a nagging doubt I was pretty sure that I’d made the right decision in getting out of bed.

As I pondered this, looking down the train track I saw movement by the line which I took to be the black and white cat that I often see crossing the line in the mornings.

Consequently it gave me a double start when the ghostly apparition of a white fox emerged onto the end of the opposite platform.

Of course it was no such thing. It was in fact a pale dog. In shape much like a small German shepherd, whose legs black with mud were not particularly visible at distance in the low light – something which gave it the impression of a floating body.

It scampered along the platform, with an escapee’s joyous abandon.

Till it caught sight of me, upon which it promptly did an about turn and scarpered.

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