LEEDS, England — Down the road from the train station here sits a gaping hole.
I know all the spots on the road to the train where the blacktop is likely to be drifted over with snow.
On the road to the train I pass the outlying fields of large dairy farms, a few of which look very well managed.
Follow the road beneath the train tracks heading south from Nakameguro station, and, after seven minutes, you'll see the sign.
The pleasure of the pigs on the road to the train is this: if I look up at the right time and the pigs are grazing in the right place, they appear to be standing on the skyline.
Dairy cows were always the main business of the farm, milked daily in the big red barn to fill the cans that were hauled down the road to the train station in this shady courthouse town beside the Delaware River.
On summer evenings, Mrs. Adams and Rebecca would sit on the porch of their home in Chatham, N.J., waiting for Mr. Adams, a 28-year-old vice president at Cantor Fitzgerald, to walk up the road from the train station.
The police at first were sympathetic, but after a day or two said: "When both her parents are at work, she crosses two roads and the train tracks to move around with boys of another locality.
Well off the main road, the militia training camps are hidden from view near this bustling river port city, a major shipment point for relief supplies to the famished populations of the Islamist-occupied north.
And, unlike many government actions, such as building a road, the naval training is an ongoing program that can be modified in the future.
Over the road is the training complex of the city's most famous football club.
