There’s a warping quality to the way the bogies attack the buckled tracks near Goole. The heat and the rhythm of it always sits heavy with me. Then a void opens up to the right. The incidence of the sun and the estuary surface give the effect of gold leaf resting on undulating silt, barely water. In my mind the sky above is what they call an ‘Oklahoma Sky’, not that I’ve ever been. The colour is gentle and pale, stifling and yet you know a cool breeze lies somewhere in it. If you were to cross the track and reach the foreshore you’d find, if you had an eye for them, Devils’ toenails. Otherwise you can walk for a long time along the track to the sea.