The "North Downs Line" was originally a far-flung offshoot of the South Eastern and Chatham railway who provided services in the Kent and East Sussex areas up to London, with a straggly branch to Reading.   There were through services from London Bridge to Reading via Redhill, notable in that they headed out of London in an Easterly direction to end up, eventually, out to the West.

When I was brought up in Kent in the 1960s, the service was an hourly one provided by 3 coach demu units from Tonbridge to Reading with a reversal at Redhill .. the trains being notable in that 2 coaches were the old narrow Hasings line stock and the third coach was an "EPB" driver.  Very Heath Robinson, but a great fun journey on the rare occasions ....

It has other very personal memories for me too.

Back in 1996, I was just divorced and re-single. Parent with son at home, living in Swindon, working full time too to keep up payments to the "ex" with whom daughter continued to live for a while, and who had chosen not to work full time.  Lots of other things going on too an a new romance was - err - last thing on my list.

However, a get together of an Internet news group (old fashioned equivalent to forum, I suppose) of people of similar interests / philospohy to mine  was being held near Tintern in South Wales, and I met up with a handful of the people the prior weekend, and went along the the meetup for some of the week.  Yes, met a lady over from the USA - her first trip out of country since her youth, and coming to the AGM (alt.good.morning) meeting as a way to see part of the UK, alone and yet with friends.

I was at home on - gosh - Monday night and the event was due to finish on Wednesday.  Big "last supper" on Tuesday, but I was giving a course at Silicon Graphics (Theale) that week and unable to make it - I had said my goodbyes already.  Then the phone rang.  "How can I get from Tintern to Gatwick on Wednesday morning in time for my 10:45 flight?" .... ah, now there's an interesting question.  It seemed that the group had been down the pub and discussing their travel plans, and all hell had broken loose when Lisa announced that she would be at the supper, but needed to catch the flight too.  Advise ranging from "you can't do it" through "no way" to "that's not possible" from all sides, I understand.  Ah - what better to do that to call a local.

Lisa went to the ball (and so did I). She came back to Swindon with me afterwards, and I took her into Reading the following morning ... an early North Downs line train.  I can recall which platform, I can recall stealing a kiss as the doors on the Thames Turbo closed.  And that was to be the end of it ...

Ah, yes. Well that wasn't the end of it. Lisa's now my wife.