Rolling home

I could tell a boring story about the early bus and how it either didn't turn up or came way too early and how I stood at the bus stop fantasising about how when we end up with two cars I'll be able to drive to the station (or all the way if the mood takes me) but then how that would almost kill off any prospect of cycling once it gets light enough. But I won't.

But the bus not turning up did mean that there was no walking around town done in the morning and very little was done at lunchtime. So I had to grab something on the way to the station without being late and missing the train. This is it. From the top of a post box.

Four posts in a row in colour: what's that about?