At one time I travelled regularly between Penzance and London by train. Mostly my journeys were uneventful. Id sit at a table, reading, listening to music, and sipping tea. At certain times of the year the train would be overfull, and more than once I was joined at my table by a mother and young children. Even the sternest of them appeared unable to reign in the high spirits of her brood. Small children have always terrified me. There came a day when I was persecuted by two small children who between them scrawled on my newspaper, knocked my tea over and kicked me repeatedly. Their mother said nothing; I endured my torment in silence. Several nightmares later the solution dawned on me. On every subsequent trip I placed in front of me on the table a copy of The Sport newspaper, and a can of cider. Ive had many travelling companions since: some interesting, many silent, the odd boor, but never again have I had the pleasure of a young family at my table.
Posted on: Sun, 24 Nov 2013 19:57:26 +0000
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