Those old engines reminded 

me of my grandfather  

in his final year: wheezing, 

tearful eyes, leaking water, 

tobacco-stained moustache, 

steam escaping everywhere.  

Granted, retaining some grand  

old dignity, but a shadow  

of their former selves.  

Heroes perhaps but this  

was the Sixties: the white heat 

of Harold Wilson, the Moptops, 

Julie Chr...

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