The Train Journey.

I was reminded yesterday for some strange reason of the times I travelled on the train alone to stay with my grandmother for the summer. 

I was very young, 5/6, when I first made this journey. My mother would take me to the train and put me and my suitcase into a carriage and then she would ask the guard to keep an eye on me.

It was a real adventure. 

After getting off the train I had to make my way across to the bus station where I got a bus to where my Gran lived. She would always be standing at the doorway awaiting my arrival. 

We would go to the post box and post the card my mother had given me saying i had arrived safely.

Yes that system is full of flaws and would never happen now but I did this ever summer until I was about thirteen.

There is a story about just such a journey, not mine but it so could have been. I did have similar experiences.

A young boy was traveling on a long train trip. 

Sitting across from him was an older man, very neatly and precisely dressed. Across his knees he carried a briefcase upon which he nervously drummed his fingers. Since he looked to be rather an angry sort of man, the boy didn't want to start a conversation.


Presently the man opened the briefcase and took out two paper napkins, a pocketknife and an apple. 

Carefully he peeled and cored the apple. He placed all the peelings on one of the two napkins and folded it into a neat parcel. Then he moved his briefcase to one side, stood up, and walked to the end of the coach. By craning his neck, the boy was able to watch him move out onto the little passageway at the end of the car and throw the parcel of peel onto the tracks.


When the man returned he dusted his hands, sat down and lifted the briefcase back up across his knees. He picked up the peeled and cored apple, carefully cut it into thin slices, placed the slices onto the second napkin and made a similar neat parcel. 

To the boy's amazement he then repeated his routine. He moved to the end of the coach and threw the parcel on the line. When he returned, he picked up his briefcase, took out two more napkins and an orange which he began to peel and did exactly the same again with the orange.

Next he did the same thing with a peach.


 At last the young boy could contain himself no longer and simply had to ask the man what he was doing.


"I'm making a fruit salad," said the man.


"Then why do you keep throwing it away?" the boy asked.


"I should think that was obvious," snapped the man. "I'm throwing it away because I don't like fruit salad!"

How often do we spend precious time of fruitless exercises and achieve little or nothing?

Thankfully I have now completed the above painting began while giving a demonstration. I could have finished it so much sooner but I kept putting it off and putting it off. 

Fortunately I sold another painting and need this one to fill the gap from where it was sold and could waste time no more. I will deliver it today. 

Have a good day and do not waste precious time on fruit salads if you do not like them.