A memory

The year was 2001. The train was going from Bristol Temple Meads to London Waterloo via Salisbury (don't ask). I had taken an early train because it was cheaper (I was a student) and because I hoped to sleep en route.

The gods had decided this wouldn't be the case. A middle-aged, bossy-looking woman came and sat across the aisle from me. "I'm off to Moorfields Eye Hospital," she announced.

I was polite. "Oh."

"I'm going to walk it. It's a long way from Waterloo, but I'm going to walk it."

Now, not living in London at the time, it's only more recently that I can appreciate exactly how long that walk is. It is a Very Long Walk. She continued.

"My daughter used to live in London but she lives in Australia now." I was beginning to see why.

The lady took out a thermos flask and poured herself a hot drink. "I only drink soya milk. Do you?"

"No," said I. "I have my tea with just a splash of semi-skimmed milk."

"You don't drink very strong tea, do you?" she asked.

"Yes, yes I do."

She paused, looked at me meaningfully and said, "Strong tea, slow death."

Good.