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Winston spent weekdays maintaining railways and weekends discovering what a bass line could hold together.
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A band photograph stands beside Winston’s hospital book. The singer occupies most of the picture; Winston’s bass appears as a narrow strip at the edge. He remembers a rehearsal where everybody played louder to hear themselves. The drummer finally stopped. In the sudden gap, Winston played four quiet notes. One by one the others returned, listening this time. It was the best they sounded all evening. He says the photograph is accurate enough: you do not always need the middle of the picture to hold a place in the music.
Winston recalls waiting beneath a platform roof after a railway shift. Rain struck a loose gutter in an uneven pattern. He tapped it against his lunch tin, trying to find where the beat began. A colleague joined in on the bench without looking up from his newspaper. Their small performance ended when the train arrived. No audience applauded; neither man expected one. In his hospital room, rain touches the window more softly. Winston tries the old rhythm on the closed book, then lets it change.
The old band never recorded its railway tune. Winston writes a few words about it on the back of the photograph: rain, lunch tin, late train. He considers calling it “Platform Three”, then admits he cannot remember the platform number. “Under the Gutter” is less dignified and more accurate. He writes that instead. At the next family gathering, somebody may recognise the rhythm. If not, he can tell the story, and somebody else can decide where the beat begins.