In early January I traveled to Aylesbury by train, visiting my sister for her birthday. As the train stopped in Amersham a conversation began behind me.
Grandmother: 'My dad used to live in Amersham'
Little boy: 'Your dad was really old'
Grandmother: 'He wasn't really, he was 65. He was a heavy smoker, he had lung cancer'
Little boy: 'And now he's dead'
The lady went on to tell of her sister and friend who also died at 65. The boy had been told off for picking his nose and I felt him prod the back of my left arm through the gap between my seat and the window. Inside I winced hoping he wasn't wiping a bogy on my jacket.
