There's something so romantic about winter and I don't know whether that's just because

I'm a bit for homebody and I love a 5th but I think it's just the holiday period is just

for me it's the most romantic period and I think anyone who's listened to my records

will know that I'm quite a big fan of romance.

Joy in every sip with red carp snout back at Starbucks.

It is the 8th of August 1963.

A huge, featureless freight train is cutting through the dark countryside of Buckinghamshire,

an hour north of London.

It's just about to hit 3 o'clock in the morning and the moon is bright in a pure black sky.

The Royal Mail Train is on the last leg of a 9 hour journey from Edinburgh to London,

having set off at just before 7pm the night before.

Now it winds its way between the dark rolling hills of southeast England.

Inside are of a 70 post office workers sorting mail and counting bills through the night.

25-year-old Dave Whitby sets alongside the senior driver 58-year-old Jack Mills between

them there in charge of 12 carriages.

Whitby is tired but experienced.

He's done this route with his train many times.

And through the train's front window are ahead in the black.

You see something different.

Something unexpected.

There is a red light blowing down the track.

He knows this particular stretch but he's never seen a red light here before, only ever

...