In all my many years I have never visited Waterloo Station

Even though I know it intimately and with a considerable warmth

I was the young boy who stood under the four faced clock

In the John Schlesinger film when I was nine and a half

I was the country lad with his beautiful blond wife searching

For the continental trains delayed but not quite cancelled

I am the porter who worked at the station just after the war

And visited Cyprus and Khartoum when meeting friends

The number of platforms are hidden under veils of obscurity

Or so I am told by desolate maths students keen for a solution

There is a photograph of a Cape Coast Castle Class locomotive

Which hangs in the splendid buffet nearest to the Victory Arch

I often sit under it reading Three Men in a Boat whilst waiting

For the Windsor train and my home comforts therein