Whenever I think of trainspotting it’s of Danny Boyle’s 1996 film and that iconic scene of heroin addled shoplifter, Mark Renton, (Ewan McGregor) legging it down Edinburgh’s Princes Street to the pumped up soundtrack of Iggy Pop’s Lust for Life, a store security guard hot on his heels.

Before seeing the film I’d have thought of the men and boys you’d often see on the end of station platforms recording the numbers of the trains they’d spotted. You still see the odd one, always in an anorak, but many turned their backs on the hobby following the end of steam.

Perhaps their mood was similar to that of the Bob Dylan fans who’d shouted “Judas!” when he first performed with an electric guitar, although it’s a bit different. At the Judas call Dylan had turned to his band and told them to “play it fucking loud” and they launched into a blistering version of “Like a Rolling Stone.” I can’t imagine British Rail being capable of anything like that given that they couldn’t even run a train service.

The reason for the train theme is that I briefly became a spotter today. It touched 34° earlier, is set to go higher in the days ahead and this afternoon I stumbled upon a nearby supermarket that’s got amazing air con, or klimatismós as the Greeks call it. I did a really slow, meandering shop there it was so cool and took a different route home that snaked along the shade of tall buildings where I came across the Municipal Railway Park of Kalamata, located in the area of the old Kalamata Port railway station, now a cafe, in a park with lots of shade.

It’s an amazing collection of old steam engines, wooden subway carriages, railcars and freight wagons. The area’s also a nice recreation park with a fountain at one end, an outdoor gym and playgrounds for the kids. I was the only trainspotter there but, pleasant as it was, I don’t think it’ll turn into a hobby. I took a few pictures. Apart from knowing that they were all trains, I can’t say precisely what they were because all the lectern style stands beside each exhibit were plastered in graffiti, although I don’t suppose anyone reading this will want to know.