Young love
Reading Blaise Tapp's column abouttrainstakesmebackto the 1980s.
My fiancée and me lived a fair distance apart and often travelled on the train (Train travel gives me a buzz despite the cost and delays, The News, April 30).
Some of the carriages were divided into compartments with seating for 10 or so adults. Usually, a diverse and colourful selection of types sat facing one another, but each in his or her own personal space seemingly oblivious to their fellow passengers (that traditional aloofness that only we Brits are so expert in).
Snug in the far corner is Mr Muttongrump the city executive, with his furled brolly and Daily Telegraph. In sharp contrast to the above, are a quartet of youths both male and female, wearing tie-dye shirts and patched denim bellbottoms.
They drag earnestly on hand-rolled herbal cigarettes and salute one another with peace signs. These are hippies who have 'turned on, tuned in, and dropped out' or so they like to believe.
Just opposite, two flamboyant males in their mid-twenties sport elegant velvet suits and leather berets. They chat animatedly to each other and make exuberant gesticulations with pale, wellmanicured hands. They are most likely jazz musicians.
These folk are all rather insignificant to my fiancé and me as we only have eyes for each other.
Anthony Fenlon Bursledon Road
Waterlooville