I’m on the train, heading to Hertford to meet a friend for lunch.   It’s an unfamiliar route so I’ve not paid much attention to my fellow travellers. 

Unlike the teenage lad sitting next to me.
“Excuse me – did you used to work at Thrush Woods?” he asks.

“I did indeed … did I used to teach you? Sorry – I’ve got a terrible memory for names.”

It turned out that I did teach… let’s call him Aaron, and apparently also his sister Ruby. He’s now doing something with bricks; she works in Botox. Though she may just be filling in.

We figure out that it must have been about twelve years since I left Thrush Woods, and we talk a bit about some of the other staff he remembers from the school. (That’s you, Mr B!) Then the train slows down and Aaron jumps up.

“My stop,” he says, shrugging on his coat.

“Well, very nice to see you, Aaron,” I say. “Do pass on my best wishes to your sister from me.”

“I will, “ he grins and slings his bag over his shoulder. “I thought it must be you,” he calls back to me, heading for the door. ‘I remembered your shoes. Bye.”

He remembered my shoes? What the….