In the UK there are around 150 stations that are unmanned and the train will only stop at them if requested, and in this book Dixie Wills has set himself the target of reaching or passing a substantial number them. Starting in Cornwall in the West Country, he sets off on his eccentric journey.

His travels take him through Wales and Midlands before heading up the west coast of England and then into Scotland where he finishes. As he stops and alights at station, you get a potted history of the area or the station. Some of these have fantastic names, for example Lympstone Commando,Dollarrog and Bootle.

Wills writes delightful and quirky travel books, that are written around the "tiny" theme. Every now and again he wanders off on a tangent in his writing, but he always returns to the lines as he move round the country. More of a 3.5 star book, would be worth reading if you have any interest in trains or an interest in lass travelled parts of the countryside. ( )

I am generally reluctant to write a very negative review of a book, conscious that someone has expended a lot of effort writing it while all I have had to do is sit back and read it. In ‘Casanova’s Chinese Restaurant’ the fifth volume of Anthony Powell’s marvellous ‘Dance to the Music of Time’, Maclintick, the lugubrious music critic refers, somewhat dramatically, to the ‘proper respect of the poor interpretive hack for the true creative artist’.

Sadly, that restraint only extends so far, and faced with this book I find little option but to take the gloves off and decry it utterly. The saddest aspect is that it might have so good. Dixe Wills had become aware of the phenomenon of request-only railway stations, of which 150 still exist across the British railway network. Trains will only stop at these stations (or ‘halts’) if a passenger on board has requested it, or if someone on the platform flags the train down, like hailing a bus or taxi. There is a potentially fascinating story behind each of these stations, and Wills set out to explore a lot of them. Being a bit of an anorak, that seemed fairly tempting to me.

Unfortunately, this is a particularly poorly written book. Wills attempts to strike a humorous tone, but this falls woefully flat. His puerile comments seldom ascend above the severely irritating, and generally succumb to a sickening tweeness that robbed the content of any potential to hold my attention.

This very soon joined the list of books that I have deliberately left on my bus or train. I am just relieved that for once I hadn’t written my name on the flyleaf, so there is no risk of a well-intention Samaritan returning it to me. ( )