In Memoriam – Ineke Poultney
This is my first post since the sad passing of Ineke last week after a courageous battle against cancer. She showed her unique humour and quirky view of the world until the end. She was always prompting me to blog, and it seems my humour and photography were greatly valued by her. So, Ineke, with you in mind, let’s see if I can deliver….
Today I have been Thomas the Tank Engine. In fact, it is probably true to say that over the past week or so I have been sidelined in the sidings, having a bit of a refit, having a rest because of feeling a bit short of puff. There must have been some blockage in my pipework. Yesterday in particular was a day without fire or steam.
Today, with the autumn sun shining, I was feeling a bit more stoked up, so headed out to one of my regular running routes. This was the Brampton Valley Way, starting from the Draughton Crossing and heading towards Market Harborough. 
Now, this is one of those “stretching a point” training log posts – I did not actually do any running, not even anything that could be called a “recovery run”. I was accompanied by my grandson and we were on a little adventure. We were going to visit the Kelmarsh Tunnel. Oh, no expense is spared when I give little Noa a trip out! But then again, can anyone put a price on those special times spent together? I think not.
I described to him how many years ago this was the route of a railway that trains like Thomas and Edward and Gordon used to steam along, passing these same fields and trees, and crossing the bridge over the little stream (of course, on the way back, it was a raging river and the bridge was on the point of collapsing under the weight of our wheels). It was inevitable that we would end up being trains, puffing and whistling, my little arms pumping and chugging as only a grandfather can (now tell me that is not some kind of workout, especially when for a couple of hundred metres I carried him on my shoulders – but no arm pistons at that time?!).
And what better scary place could there be for a 3 year old (and a 65 year old) than a dark tunnel in Halloween week?
Psychologist on the Move 
Great post! And he is such a cutie. Why, you two could have been walking through the Hundred Acre Woods! That’s what your post reminded me of. 😀
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Thank you! As I’m sure you know, the young ones are exhausting, but we miss them when they go home. Coincidentally, my maternal grandparents lived near 100 Acre Woods – reputedly in Ashdown Forest in Sussex. They lived in a little village called Five Ash Down. Ah, memories!
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This is such a lovely post. No doubt your friend would have been pleased. It made me think of when I used to read the Thomas stories to my two boys. I always preferred the old format books, before Britt Allcroft got her hands on them.
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Thank you Julia. I remember the original books from my (now distant) childhood. 🙂
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