Goodbye, Flying Nevershireman

I'm looking through my office window at the disused railway, hoping a dreamed mail train might bring a sack of letters, that I might pick one and see if Ella will make anything of it and for once, choose to share what she 'Reads'.

But at this moment I am wrong footed by the semblance of a real train puffing in our direction, the tantalising impossibility of which is mixed with some disappointment.

' Oh Ella how is this possible? You said the track was disused '.' 'Well, you gave me the letter saying it was. Don't you read them?