Mid morning I got ready for the big 200m walk to the Kings Cross station.

Kings Cross station.

The interior is pretty stunning
At a ticket kiosk I picked up my prepaid ticket. This was all so efficient I had half an hour to kill. I opted for a first class ticket since it was discounted and provided extra legroom for the four-ish hour journey. It was then a matter of waiting for the platform number to be announced so that we could go and board.

Kings Cross platforms
We got underway. The seat in first class was so worthwhile. As well as loads of space and a window seat, unbeknownst to me the price also included food and drinks, plus wireless.

The table meant I could spread out gadgets, juggling laptop activities (i.e. blog prep) with monitoring the landscape, cameras at the ready. Not that we were dawdling so you only had a split second to make photography decisions.

Crops with bright yellow flowers started to appear. They were such a stunning colour that I became a bit obsessed with them.



There was the occasional interruption to nature

I’ve established that these crops are oilseed rape, also known as rapeseed. The reason there’s so much of it is probably because this is commonly used as the vegetable oil in the food industry.
By the time we got to Manchester the blue skies had disappeared.

We crossed the viaduct over the river into Newcastle-upon-Tyne. I wondered what the river was called and then the penny dropped. Eejit.
Tiredness was again setting in. Taking photos and notes helped achieve a certain level of alertness.

Not being intimately familiar with the route, I was surprised when we popped out at the coast. Called Berwick-upon-Tweed, turns out this is England's northernmost town

Also in Berwick-upon-Tweed, stone ruins beside the river
I didn’t know where the England-Scotland border was though I since see that it was only a couple of miles north of B-upon-T. The border crossing could have been about the time the overcast weather seemed to take on another level of gloom. It really did feel quite grim.
And then we arrived into Edinburgh. Glimpses of buildings from the train suggested this was going to be unlike any other city I’d been to. I left the warm cocoon of the train and set foot on Scottish soil. Or concrete as the case was. Pretty sure I either pulled a face or swore (or both): it was freezing! Had to stop and fish out scarf and jacket.

In Edinburgh, walking along the platform to the station. A big upgrade is underway
Wrestling bags up flights of steps to the station not only jumped the queue of people waiting for the lift, it also helped warm me up. I trundled out onto the street and endeavoured to navigate myself to the hotel.
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