Liège Railway Station, August 1954

We pulled in at 2 a.m., on a sleeper-train bound for Munich.

Liège Cathedral stood defiant, untouched by war, and amber-lit by floodlight.

A solitary old man, in mackintosh, trilby and tie, stood braced against wind and rain. Ex-military perhaps.

"Good morning, young man. Do you, by chance, have an English language newspaper?"

"I'm sorry, sir, I do not," I replied.

As we steamed away, he remained standing at attention and staring straight ahead. He was waiting for the next train, I supposed.

That was sixty-eight years ago.

In my dreams, he is standing there still.