Flying V

My train overtook a low flying V of geese on the way to St Helens. I saw them from the rear first, behind and to their left. As I overtook, I saw them in profile, and then looked to my front again as we accelerated past. I smiled, thinking of the Bluetones and Marblehead Johnson until the train pulled into the next station. The geese caught up, flew past, and arced over a barn in the middle distance.

A man paid, and got onto the bus at RNCM. “My bag!” he said, panicked, to the bus driver, “will you wait?” He dashed off the bus, and into the pub. Ten seconds. Twenty seconds. Thirty seconds. He ran back on. “Thank you!” I looked at my neighbour. We were both grinning.