A bad case of wrong place... wrong time

RECENT tales of train incidents (Peterborough) reminded me of my own commuting from London’s Waterloo Station at the height of the IRA bomb scares, with everyone on high alert. Our homeward journey was about to start when a fellow passenger spotted a briefcase lying unattended on a window seat. Silence fell as he called out to the crowded compartment: ‘Does this belong to anyone?’ With no reply, he wound down the window and handed the briefcase to a porter on the platform. There was a general buzz of acclaim as the train pulled out of the station, but sudden silence as, right beside us, came the sound of a toilet flushing. I have never seen so many newspapers suddenly picked up as the

unwary commuter emerged to take his seat.

Jack Low, Cranleigh, Surrey.

Follow-up

I ALSO collected a bag of coke from the local gas works when I was about 13 years old (Peterborough). The works was about three miles from where we lived and I was staggering along the road when a car pulled up alongside me and the driver said: ‘Let me give you a lift’. The bag of coke was put in the boot, I got in and told the driver where I lived. He was shocked at the distance, but took me home. I didn’t tell him that my grandparents lived about 100 yards from where he’d picked me up, and it was my intention to go there and borrow their barrow. Of course, nowadays a child of that age wouldn’t dare get into a stranger’s car.

Keith Woodland, Castleford, West Yorks.