Yeovil Junction

On Saturday, 1 April, I set off for St David's Station, the main train station for Exeter, undecided about what to do for the day.

It's Saturday, I have £50 in my wallet, and I have the day off. It's a sunny and mild early Spring day; beautiful. One of those days where the weather system throws a few giant cotton buds just to liven up a pure blue sky.

Shall I catch the X53 Jurassic Coast bus to Weymouth, or get the train to Yeovil Junction and then walk to Yeovil Pen Mill for a lovely extra little rural train ride down to Weymouth. Maiden Newton, the Stone Age chalk figure on the green hillside, Yetminster, Upwey and the great Regency town itself, Weymouth.

In the end, I cast aside all financial considerations and jump on the 12.10 Saturday service to Waterloo, London. I head off up the line on the turbo diesel - a good 80 or 90 mph - and pay 13.90 for a Cheap Day Return. Stopping at every station along the way except the miniature St James Halt: Pinhoe, Whimple, Feniton, Honiton, Axminster Crewkern, and, finally, Yeovil Junction, right in the middle of nowhere.

Only after a 10 minute halt at the passing loop that now is Chard Junction, my very own ancestral home. This means a glimpse of the River Axe and a tiny footbridge and weir, the one we used to visit thirty years ago. I can picture myself there now, 9 years old, home-made string and jam jar improvised fishing device, no fish. Only Barry could catch a trout on demand.

At Yeovil Junction, there are a number of foreigners, Eastern Europeans, all wondering how to get into the town centre, about 1 and a half miles away. They probably work in factories in town, perhaps Westlands, or maybe the famous Portuguese factories in Chard, several hundred just 15 miles down the road.

I used to think that Yeovil Junction was the station where Ian Carmichael got off when he went to visit, by train, Alistair Sims's School of Lifemanship in Yeovil. But, no, it must've been either the old Town station or perhaps Pen Mill station.

I walk along Newton Road into town, about a 20 minute walk, past some delightful green rural scenery, and Newton House. Plus a Ham stone, sandstone agricultural building.

The town is brilliant, a typical market town, yet big and high-tech even during World War One when it hosted one of the country's first ever aircraft manufacturers.

A visit to Ottakars bookstore; Ladbrokes to waste #7 on gambling, and, unusually for me, a Pepsi and ice in the Wetherspoons.

I stroll down to Pen Mill just to take a look, but it is already too late to get the train to Weymouth.

Back home to Exeter, arriving at 8.00pm along with a number of youths from Honiton out on the town in Exeter.