>Train of thought
>The trip to Worcester was good. We had a positive meeting, the craic was great and the food tasty. Best of all, the train journey was productive: The Cotswold Line, it seems, is better for writing than the Chiltern Line. I thought I’d be tired and whingeingly miserable and I ended up lightly inspired – I love it when the thing comes out of left field. Of course, I was meant to be working on the radio play and ended up sketching out changes for the stage play – but, hey!
I finished off reading The Gift, which probably helped. It’s heavy going (for me), but full of insights. I was also thinking of The Tempest – probably because we trained through a lowering storm at Charlbury. And those Spencer resurrection paintings are haunting me. Enough said.
There are a group of Russians on the train – early 20s to 40s. Very cheerful, very chatty. They get off into the maelstrom at Charlbury to be greeted by friends – all umbrellas and kisses and smiles. And all around this mid-morning darkness and wet. The train hangs around at the station – their greetings, their happiness are there for all to see. On the return journey that night we pick them up again after whatever it was – we see the farewells. They’re quieter now, but still smiling.