Dalwhinnie Voices

It was aways round about Dalwhinnie that the train guard of the old-fashioned sleeper in the 1960s/70s would knock on your door with a tray of strong morning tea. You'd rub your bleary eyes and sit on the little sink lid in the corner, haul down the window (pre air-con) and breathe out the last lungful of London Euston air and breathe in the Highlands and think: 'I'm home'...

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