I’m travelling down to the West Country with my mate Tommy. Shortly after the train pulled out the station we chanced upon an old book stuffed between the cushions.
Seeing as the book was falling apart and now of not much use to neither man or mouse, we decided to use the endpapers for scribbling, as we whiled away our journey.
I made a few Turneresque sketches of the steam passing by the window whilst Tommy drew up engineering plans for an idea he has to turn stream water into gin. All was going well until Tommy suggested we play a game to see how many words we could make out of the book’s title. Sadly the game didn’t last very long as Tommy’s last word sent him into a fit of giggles before he could finish putting pen to paper. His extreme hilarity coupled with the jolt of a sudden points change resulted in Tommy slipping off the velvet cushions, grabbing the tablecloth on the way down and taking the entire contents of the table with him.
The conductor ran to see what all the commotion was about and on finding Tommy blindly stumbling about like Tommy Cooper’s ghost, told us that if “we didn’t stop pissing about” he’d have us chucked off the train!
The rest of the journey was pretty quiet apart from the odd recollective snort from Tommy.
Morris would love to know what you think of his letters and postcards. He loves chatting writing and tapping away on a keyboard, so please feel free to hit the comments box.
Morris will get back to you mouse style.
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