Underneath Canterbury there is a subterranean railway station
The station has three platforms
Each at angles to the others
The station was constructed over one hundred and fifty years ago
And was designed to serve Maidstone and a few coastal towns
The station has been threatened with closure on many occasions
But has always been reprieved
As the people of Canterbury love their subterranean station
I am sitting with my beloved Caron
Awaiting our train
Which has been reported late
My wife is wearing a red coat and black jeans
And unlike me is sitting on our old suitcase
Which has travel labels from all over the world
Attached to its grey fabric
About half an hour ago
I purchased two badges from the station porter
For forty pence each
The badges are colourful representations
Of the small steam locomotives
That still serve this station
An announcement informs me
That our train is due to arrive on platform six
I peer into the dark tunnel towards Maidstone
And note the distant lights of the train
My wife ignores my adventure
And with an accompanying orchestra
Sings sweetly about how plain the railway station seems
Against the architectural splendours of the city
In the last carriage of the train
I find the original plans of the station
Hidden beneath my seat
I hand them to the station porter
Who expresses gratitude
And notes that the plans often go missing
But always return to their home station