Lorry
@lorry@infosec.exchange  ·  activity timestamp last week

I am starting to realise that all this time, trainspotting was just a code-hobby for Autistic people to form clandestine self-help / revolutionary groups, with flasks of tea, sammiches and sturdy raincoats.

#UK#Autism#Trains#Trainspotting#Tea#Thermos#MindTheGap#Sandwich#Therapy#Revolution

In the foreground at right you see a young man in a dark green hooded jacket, leaning slightly forward as he writes into a small notebook. A pair of binoculars hangs around his neck and a camera strap dangles from his wrist. He’s standing on a narrow yellow line marked “Mind the Gap” beside the platform edge. To his left sits a two‑car diesel train painted in off‑white with a crimson stripe, its front end showing the number “5849” and a headboard reading “via Kingston 24.” Steam or diesel exhaust drifts faintly from its roof‑mounted exhaust port. The train’s doors are open, but no other passengers are visible. Further back on the platform, a middle‑aged woman in a dark overcoat and sensible shoes is pouring tea (or coffee) from a bright blue thermos into a matching mug. Behind her, the station’s red‑painted lamp‑posts, signboards and a low brick waiting shelter stretch into the distance. Beyond the fence at right you can glimpse suburban terraces. Overcast sky and damp‑looking tarmac suggest typical British drizzle. Everything about their posture and gear—the earnest note‑taking, the camera, the flask—marks them out as dedicated trainspotters savouring a rare sighting.
In the foreground at right you see a young man in a dark green hooded jacket, leaning slightly forward as he writes into a small notebook. A pair of binoculars hangs around his neck and a camera strap dangles from his wrist. He’s standing on a narrow yellow line marked “Mind the Gap” beside the platform edge. To his left sits a two‑car diesel train painted in off‑white with a crimson stripe, its front end showing the number “5849” and a headboard reading “via Kingston 24.” Steam or diesel exhaust drifts faintly from its roof‑mounted exhaust port. The train’s doors are open, but no other passengers are visible. Further back on the platform, a middle‑aged woman in a dark overcoat and sensible shoes is pouring tea (or coffee) from a bright blue thermos into a matching mug. Behind her, the station’s red‑painted lamp‑posts, signboards and a low brick waiting shelter stretch into the distance. Beyond the fence at right you can glimpse suburban terraces. Overcast sky and damp‑looking tarmac suggest typical British drizzle. Everything about their posture and gear—the earnest note‑taking, the camera, the flask—marks them out as dedicated trainspotters savouring a rare sighting.
In the foreground at right you see a young man in a dark green hooded jacket, leaning slightly forward as he writes into a small notebook. A pair of binoculars hangs around his neck and a camera strap dangles from his wrist. He’s standing on a narrow yellow line marked “Mind the Gap” beside the platform edge. To his left sits a two‑car diesel train painted in off‑white with a crimson stripe, its front end showing the number “5849” and a headboard reading “via Kingston 24.” Steam or diesel exhaust drifts faintly from its roof‑mounted exhaust port. The train’s doors are open, but no other passengers are visible. Further back on the platform, a middle‑aged woman in a dark overcoat and sensible shoes is pouring tea (or coffee) from a bright blue thermos into a matching mug. Behind her, the station’s red‑painted lamp‑posts, signboards and a low brick waiting shelter stretch into the distance. Beyond the fence at right you can glimpse suburban terraces. Overcast sky and damp‑looking tarmac suggest typical British drizzle. Everything about their posture and gear—the earnest note‑taking, the camera, the flask—marks them out as dedicated trainspotters savouring a rare sighting.