As a child, I believed in magic. Can I get that sense of wonder back?
There is something about that childlike imagining when there is no knowing that I miss
One of the train lines that ran through my neighbourhood when I was growing up was known as the Goblin line. The nickname endured, presumably because of the joke it inspired – “The Goblin line: if it runs on time it must be magic!” – though the derivation is much more boring (it’s a contraction: the Gospel Oak to Barking line, therefore GOBlin).
In the juniors’ playground it was the subject of much mythologising. There was the tale of “the Goblin”, a shadowy figure patrolling the lines at night, preying on children who had stayed out too late. Others said the line was blessed by ancient cockney goblins and everyone who rode it would receive good luck.
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Source: Guardian Transport
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