The harbor line moves slowly, even languidly, its tracks tread overhead as it leaves its brash and competitive W. Rly cousin on the ground behind, these crowds not as pushy nor is the clatter of the tracks as insistent . The stations have quaint names-
Cotton green, King’s Circle. Past Dockyard you marvel at the breeze and the
miles of yet-green. And on the ride back it takes 45 minutes to traverse Peddar Rd and you thank
the stars for small mercies.
All for two sweaters. One heavy duty, street-bought, a bargain, and yes, I’ve sent it to the dry cleaners. The other store-bought, all wool reversible and so expensive that my eyebrows are still raised. And binocs, am still figuring out which is the eyepiece.