Kent

I was once sat on a train from Kendal to London. It was a weekend and I'd paid the extra ten pounds to travel first class and taken a two-person window table, one seat opposite another, and I'd thought that I'd have that space to myself for the whole journey. 

However, just before we left Oxenholme, a man came and took the seat opposite me. I said hello and returned to my book, wondering if it would be too rude to go and find an empty table so I could stretch my legs.

As I tried to read, I found my attention drawn to my new companion. Looking at him out of the corner of my eye, I guessed he was in his seventies. He was wearing several layers of shirts and jackets, a scarf and he had a flat cap with him, too. If he hadn't been soot-free he might have looked like a stereotyped chimney sweep, like the ones in 'Mary Poppins'. His thinning hair was cut in a short back and sides and neatly parted. And he was lean, too, like men can be in those old photos of factory workers.

It didn't take long for him to strike up conversation and I suddenly realised just how much he reminded me of my granddad. There was something in his shy smile and expressions, as well as some of the little vocal tics and noises. 

Not that my granddad was from Kendal, which this chap was, and he talked to me about the town and his life there. Despite starting the conversation, he seemed a little shy at first and I must admit I started off with a bit of that peculiar anxiety that affects me when strangers talk to me in public space, but we soon relaxed and I enjoyed the journey. 

I can't remember much of what he said but I do remember him talking a bit about the river - the Kent, from which the town derives its name - and two of the rivers that feed it, the Mint and the Sprint. He seemed quietly amused by their names. 

I felt a little sad when we came to part ways. I had little doubt that I'd never seen him again, yet this humble, friendly man had taken me into his life for a couple of hours. It was like a small gift and I think of him from time to time, valuing that memory, most often when I see the river. Here it is today as I crossed the bridge on my way to meet up with @IntoTheHills.