It’s a funny old thing, nostalgia.  It is a concept, which is inherently positive.  Nostalgia is essentially an invocation of fond memories.  No one gets nostalgic for the trials and tribulations of the past.  Does nostalgia even have an antonym?  Trauma, perhaps?

If I had to choose between the two terms––nostalgia and trauma––to describe my journey on the Keighley and Worth Valley Railway, my overriding feeling would be one of happy nostalgia, which might seem slight perverse, when most of the things I was feeling nostalgic about were ones relating to some measure of discomfort.

There were the old-style single compartment carriages––wonderful if you had one to yourself; agony, if you were obliged to share; the meanly upholstered seats, which managed to practically swallow you whole upon sitting down, bony buttocks feeling every spring; the windows––and doors––which you could open whilst the train was moving; the sparse, netting luggage racks; the slow journey time; and the black smuts and smell of smoke from the big, old steam engine.

Misery or bliss?

Nostalgia: it’s a funny old thing.

© E. C. Glendenny

Some might not think that E. C. Glendenny is old enough to get nostalgic.