The 07:32 from Pen Mill

Sitting on the 07.32 from Pen Mill going to a meeting in Bristol I marvel at the things people still do to earn a living and count myself lucky to work at home. I never endure the daily commute amongst people intent only on getting to work (and back again). On the infrequent occasions, I happen to find myself amongst them, it’s now treat not trial. I’m aware this line has benefits those stuck on the tube in London will never know. It is truly beautiful, and I watch my fellow travellers, wondering how many gaze like sheep or cows through the carriage window, rather than read or listen their way through the journey, shut off from the world around them on their phone or some other device. I look at the brilliant blue sky and imagine God painted it just for my pleasure. The day holds the promise of warmth on skin and bone, and even in the city spirits will raise at the sight of a lovely day. The sun is bright, and the few clouds remind me of the rain at the weekend, washing everything fresh again. The banks are still spring green, bright, and verdant with vigour and growth. The trees in their lacey dresses are primped and preened in their seasonal best. But in a few short weeks it will all fade, replaced with the dusty grey-green of late summer. Each stop along the route adds new members to the company forming in the carriage and we all sway and bump in unison to the rattle of the wheels over tracks. Over on the opposite table seat is a woman putting on her face and IR...
Source: The Hysterectomy Association - Category: OBGYN Authors: Tags: Fiction friday fiction short story Source Type: news