I remember it like yesterday—or is my memory playing the fool?
I went there by train. All the way, I sat beside a stranger who said nothing
Until we got off: “I’ve got my car here. I’m going in the direction of Poole
If that’s any help to you.” I was, I confess, a little stand-offish with the fellow.
His conversation might have been a blessing on my long, sad journey,
But now his offer, though sincerely meant, was an impertinence.
I thanked him and said no. He gave me his card. His name was Raymond Gurney.
The funny thing is, the other day I was going through some things
And I found that card in an old mackintosh that I wasn’t wearing at the time,
So God alone knows how it got there. Imagine a thing like that
Turning up again after thirty years. I felt a curious sense of shame.
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