Hollinwell Halt

You’d expect it to be dark at 4.30am in early February, and it is, but the waxing Snow Moon peers through an ethereal quiver of cloud high above, casting some pure white glow on the dashboard as I turn the key and start another golfing pilgrimage.

The wheels wind through the rolling shadows of the Chilterns, before drifting back to the M1, and in no time…