Funny coincidence
Yesterday, Viv and I were on our way out when the postman called out from the other side of the street. 'I've got a parcel for you', he announced. He fetched the parcel and I put it safely in our hall before we continued on our way, for it was a parcel I'd been waiting for. + + + Around fifty-five years ago Viv, then at primary school, had to travel from her home in Welwyn Garden City to London, for appointments at Moorfields Eye Hospital. Her mother took her on the train, buying her a pack of Toffets at the station from a vending machine on the platform while they waited for the diesel hauled train. She used to enjoy these journeys, for the train was formed of British Railways Mark 1 suburban carriages, with comfortable, if dusty, six-a side sprung, comfortable seats in warm, unconnected compartments. Inside one of these, passengers would talk to each other, and there would be no gust of cold air at stations unless someone within that compartment was getting out, or...