On the outskirts of our village there was a stucco covered bungalow. A conversation with my doctor many years ago elicited the information that this was actually a railway carriage inside, and Mr Livermore, the father of one of our cricket acquaintances, lived there. He died a few years ago and the site was abandoned, but at the end of 2020 I noticed that a metal fence had been erected around it, and the stucco removed, revealing not one but two railway carriages, one behind the other.
I had to work from photographs, as the site was inaccessible. This painting is of one of the carriages; it is possibel to glimpse the fridge through the door, and the original Smoking sign on one of the carriage windows.