In order to capture these photographs of Poole Station, I had to persuade my wife that the best route between Lyme Regis and Farnham lay through Poole (it doesn't), and that the mission to collect these photos was some sort of matter of internet honour (it wasn't). And that it'd take just a few moments (read 'hours'). We had to endure miles of very slow traffic on roads unsuitable for travelling long distances. The whole of that area of the world is peppered with tempting dual carriageways (Expressways) on which the Williamson turbo-charged dream machine (vintage 1986) could easily do 120 miles per hour.
Unfortunately, the speed limits on these roads are typically 30 or 40 miles an hour, and speed cameras are liberally sprinkled, together with mobile speed traps, along these splendid highways. It is a fund-raising operation, as the local police get to keep all the proceeds.
Now, I hear protests that this whole enterprise of mine was based on the false premise that Cayce travelled to Poole by train, when, in fact, she travelled by train to Bournemouth, and was driven to the caravan at Poole. And such protests are soundly based, as I discovered on a second reading of the book. But until someone braves the Bournemouth one-way system and sends me photographs of the correct station, these are the ones that'll remain here.
Meanwhile, perhaps someone could point me at the "rolling green hills" and "ruined castle" situated between Bournemouth and Poole, because I've never seen them. There is no break in the suburban sprawl between Bournemouth and Poole. Cayce's journey sounds more like a trip towards Swanage, taking in Corfe Castle.