All Very Strange

There was once a level crossing here. The farmer would have used it to reach his fields on the higher slopes of the moor. The steam train, often with only a single carriage would have chugged past on its slow climb to Princetown.
Now the course of the old railway track is overgrown here, the meadow remains un-grazed and various metal troughs and feeders lie abandoned. A man in a hat stood motionless in the middle of a neighbouring field,  the grass up to his knees. I kept looking back to see if he had moved. I don't think he noticed me and it was not obvious that he was doing anything. All very strange.