OH, what awful grunting and groaning is taking place in the Letters Pages. Understandable, but rather wearying.

I was lucky to escape it the other day when, after a lunchtime organ recital in the Usher Hall, and not yet having opened my Herald, I was on the Tweedbank train leaving Edinburgh. I think that there were six carriages so no complaints there. The really lovely thing that happened was when a young boy, probably about six or seven, sat opposite with his grandfather. Liking a wee chat, I started to talk and before long learned that granddad had taken his grandson to the museum and they had had an excellent time. It was a weekly event when they would spend time together, going to places of interest. What made it really interesting was that the boy had a book with a street plan of the city and was pointing out the position of the castle and other landmarks. He was rather put out as the map didn't show the position of his own house.

What was pleasant for me was that there was no mobile phone, iPad or other "device" present. It was just the enquiring mind of the wee laddie and the answers of his grandfather; and what could be seen through the windows of the train. It was a real treat.

Brexit and other bothersome things? For a while it was banished, out of mind, and I felt very happy.

Thelma Edwards, Kelso.

Top of the pods

MAY I add A Life on the Ocean Wave to Ian W Thomson’s Whales’ Top of the Pops sing-a-longs, (Letters, September 6), with perhaps a reading of Twenty Thousand Leagues under the Sea (Jules Verne, 1828-1905) for a long journey, and equally a reference to A Tale of the Sea by William Topaz McGonagall (1825-1902 ), tragedian and celebrated as Britain’s worst-ever poet?

R Russell Smith, Kilbirnie.