That photo is so lifelike. On Sundays in the late fifties my dad used to take me to Pickworth Road at Essendine where we would spend all afternoon sitting inside the fence on the wide flat embankment just above track level, along with many other families picnicing at this prime spot. We would leave for home about six o'clock and go via LB and Swinstead back to Bourne to pick up the road for home. Trundling up to LB in the old Morris Minor, we would stop off at the station gate for half an hour more before grudgingly having to leave, school the next day. Coming from the Fens, those hills around LB seemed like mountains to a Fen boy. Memories,oh what memories