The British are foolish-fond of their railroads, as they are of any public inconvenience that has been around for more than 100 years. Sprouting from the main lines, branch tracks lace the map like a web spun by a Stakhanovite spider. One-and two-car trains jog across the countryside as leisurely and erratically as the village gossip on her daily rounds. Except on the crack trains, cars are dirty, creaky, ramshackle and old, though also comfortable in a musty, antimacassar way. Cartoonist Rowland Emett has epitomized both Britain's love and loathing in Punch's "FarTwittering...
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