Hurrah! I got a call from the local garage owner at 17.50 to say that my car was ready. I didn't even attempt to disguise my utter disbelief, which made him laugh. I've arranged to collect the old girl in the morning (alarm is set - I will happily forego my Friday morning lie-in to get my car back!), so hopefully just one more bus journey for me, and then I can ceremoniously burn the timetable!
Anyway, I have lots to report about this evening's bus lane escapades......
I locked up and left work today at around 4.35pm, after a (hopefully) forgetful day, and strolled down the longer-than-average drive to the bus stop.
I knew I had about 10 minutes to wait for the next bus, due at 4.47pm. Standing at the bus stop, I studiously ignored all the smug car drivers passing me, and thought happy thoughts about Sidney the snail and his new lady-snail Cynthia.
This is the bus stop near the bee-hedge, and a couple of juvenile bees trying to show off dive-bombed me, and I could almost hear their little bee laughter at scaring me.
Then came the most astonishing sight. This guy approached on a motorbike, and he slowed right down near me as he was turning the corner just past the bus stop. Now then, just imagine a man who was in the process of turning into a ginger cat, and that's what he looked like. Ginger facial hair / whiskers as far as the eye could see. I swear he was half-man, half-ginger-tom.
The bus was late. I stood there, mobile in hand to check the time every 4 seconds. It deigned to trundle up 7 minutes late, at 4.54pm. Unless, of course, this bus was the next one, due at 4.59pm, and therefore technically 3 minutes early. I just love the way Stagecoach blend their buses into each other so seamlessly. I also guess they put up their timetables just to give people something to read whilst they are waiting. And waiting. And waiting. They are, after all, just a bunch of meaningless numbers on those displays and bear absolutely no resemblance to actual times. Good ploy!
I got a return ticket to the local town, which I now know without a smidgeon of doubt costs £2.60. And not £3.10 nor £2.10. Oh, yes....I've learnt my lesson there over the last 4 weeks.
I take a seat, and a man in his earlyish 20's gets on at the next stop and sits on one of those sideways seats near the front. About ten minutes into the journey, a youth from near the back of the bus suddenly calls out 'Lee! Lee!' to this sideways guy, who looks up and yells back 'My name's Ryan,' before looking down at his fingernails again, and commencing cleaning them with his bus pass card.
Okkkk, I thought.....obviously some nutter at the back then.
The bus drives past a group of 3 women walking a Rottweiler, and to be frank I did play a little game of 'Spot the Canine' between the four of them. Cruel, I know, but one has to try and amuse oneself when suffering life in the bus lane!
I disembark at my stop, and notice a man wearing a beanie hat (in this heat? Really?) lounging against the wall on the other side of the road, drinking from a can of Pils, and the 3 cans lined up on the wall beside him, presumably empty. Adopting a look of nonchalance, I attempt to cross the busy one-way street. And for a one-way street, it is extremely busy, with cars coming from 3 directions. Four times I figured it was safe to step off the pavement into the road, only to see a car coming and stepping back. In the end, my 5th attempt of almost doing a solo version of the Hokey Cokey (you put your right foot out, your right foot in....) I made it across and actually had a giggle with the Pils guy, (who I'd initially presumed was an axe-murderer, which shows that appearances can be deceptive) waiting for his next victim.
I reach the bus stop for the homeward journey, and have just a 10 minute wait, which passes by smoothly. A lady joins me at the bus stop about a minute before it arrives, and distils her cheap plastic carrier bag containing 8 cans of Carling into a more sturdy, cloth shopping bag. I envy her for being more lucky than me with the timing of the buses and we discuss this briefly before boarding the bus.
I take a seat directly behind a shirtless guy with a tattooed back, which I had thought I could read along the journey as a bit of free entertainment. Presently, this guy rang the bell and walked up to the front of the bus, upon which a raucous cry of 'See ya, sexy!' came from further back on the bus. (Note: the nutters sit near the back of the bus ;)) Mr Tattoo turned round and the woman yelled 'we love your tattoo's. Hope she's got yer dinner ready.' Mr Tattoo looked unimpressed and leapt off the bus carrying his 12-pack of cans of Stella.
I hadn't dared turn around, but I heard a man's voice say 'will you shut up' to said gobby woman.
Undeterred, I managed to avoid looking to the right hence the nauseating sight of the deep pink Austrian blinds and the shouldn't-be-legal-purple paintwork of the house next door.
At my stop, there was a vehicle parked right behind the bus stop. I said thank you to driver, as I always do, but no! He didn't open the doors, but waited for the traffic and then pulled in in front of the parked vehicle which meant that I had to walk a whole bus-length further than usual!
Grrrr!
Thursday 25 July 2013
Wednesday 24 July 2013
Week Four !!!
Well hello again!
This is hopefully one of my last blogs in this remarkably hilarious account of my life in the bus lane whilst I've been waiting for a part for my car for the last 26 days!!!!! I actually had a tweet today asking whether the part was being grown in a lab?
However.....the fabulous news is : I got a call from the garage owner today saying that the part had arrived. So, full of anticipation and untold excitement, I left work at 4.40pm (it would have been 4.30pm had I not received a phone call from security which meant I had to in turn make a phone call to the security engineers) and plodded down the hill to my house. I say 'plodded', as I do tend to plod in my sandals, them being quite loose, and I am aware that I walk very differently in my sandals than I do in my snug-fitting trainers......oh, you would never catch me plodding in trainers.....in those, it's more of a stride. But, today, I had my sandals on and, like I said, I plodded down the hill.
I had to walk past my house to the driveway where my poor neglected and long-suffering car through no fault of its own - or mine for that matter - was sitting there all dejected and unloved and just longing for me to drive it again. Glancing up at my bedroom window, on the front of the house, (obviously, as I don't have a periscope that goes all the way round to the back of the house!) I note with relief that Muppet isn't sitting on the windowsill looking out for me and getting all excited. Because, little did I realise at that time, it would be almost an hour before I returned home.
At the driveway entrance, car keys already in hand, I pointed the key at my poor car and jubilantly pressed the unlock button. My car winked at me, with both indicators......I got in, happily reacquainting my bottom with the driver's seat, and started her up. Bingo! If cars could smile, I'm quite certain that mine was smiling at that moment.
I reversed carefully down the driveway, having removed the wheelie bins out of the way beforehand, and I reversed my little car out onto the main road for the first time in getting on for a month, and hoped to God I could remember how to drive.
And also, that I had no mishaps en route to the garage, especially any that involved my car bursting into flames or exploding.
Reaching the local garage, I parked in the bay marked as 'MOT Parking'......completely disregarding this sign and not in the least bit bothered about the fact that I had blatantly ignored a sign (get me!), locked up my car and swaggered into the office to finally hand over my key.
Bob, the garage owner, took pleasure in showing me the unimpressive but nevertheless long awaited filler pipe that was to cost me £140 plus vat plus labour. (All through no fault of my own, remember). 'It's been powder-coated', he remarked. 'Oh, yes!' I replied, none the wiser. Basically I just want them to fit the bloody thing so that I can regain my long-missed freedom. I didn't care if it was silver-plated, or coated in gold leaf by orphans, I just wanted my car back.
I left the car in the hands of the garage, and Bob said that he would be in touch, so I waved and gave him the thumbs up.
Tesco is a mere hop, skip and jump from the garage, so it would have been amiss of me not to venture inside for goodies. I purchased the daily essentials (quick wink at Kathryn), and headed toward the bus terminus. I thought I would be clever, and instead of taking the usual route, I cut across the car park diagonally, thinking I would get there more directly, having no trolley to leave at the dreaded Red Line Where All Trolleys Will Halt.
It was about then that I glanced up and realised that I couldn't see the bus terminus in the distance. At all. Where had it gone? I stood there pondering, then realised I was heading in too much of a diagonal direction so veered left and found those little clear plastic bus stop canopies that I have come to recognise, albeit unwittingly and certainly unwillingly, like an oasis in the desert.
There are 4 bus shelters at this terminus, and all four were deserted. I arrived at mine, acutely aware that my bags needed adjusting.....i.e. my sturdy work bag was almost empty, one Tesco carrier was light, the other very heavy and the handles had been cutting into my hands. Having got out my bus fare ready, I decided to readjust the shopping. I moved the contents of the light Tesco bag into my sturdy bag, forgetting I was holding my bus fare in my hand, which promptly fell deep down into the sturdy bag. I fished it out, put it safely onto the ground, and tried to double bag the heavy Tesco bag with the now empty Tesco bag. Easier said than done in a sudden breeze. The empty bag was flapping randomly and I finally managed to get the heavy bag shoved into it, in albeit a not that ladylike posture.
At which point, obviously, a guy joined me at the bus stop, whilst I was mid-curse and with my bottom wriggling in the air.
Task completed, I straightened my dishevelled hair and tried to look normal. Which turned out to be a complete waste of time because the first thing this guy did after saying 'It's hot, isn't it? I've just been in the chemists doing this in front of their fan' and proceeded to lift up his t-shirt and demonstrate to me how he had just done this very same thing in front of the fan in the chemists. To which he added, 'The chemist asked me what I was doing, and I said I was cooling off.' Well, of course. I've often lifted up my top in the chemists and cooled myself down in front of the fan. (Not!!!!!!) I know you will put nothing past me now, but really, I have never done that. Although I might have been tempted a few times.
It was over ten minutes before the bus turned up, so I chatted idly with him and then another guy and a lady who thankfully arrived at the bus stop moments later. The chest-flashing guy, I noted, had a front tooth missing, which - after watching him make a roll-up - I mused, would fit in that gap perfectly. Sort of like having a ready-made roll-up holder.
The familiar and now-welcome sight of a blue and orange coach with the number 51 on the front panel arrived, and we bus-stop dwellers embarked. The sadistic driver kept us waiting a good further 5 minutes in the stifling heat of the stationary bus and I had to question the saying that horses sweat, men perspire, and ladies glow, because I was well past glowing or perspiring......I was sweating like a filly at this this point!
Eventually, the bus set off and I revelled in the cooling breeze that came through the open windows as we journeyed through the council estate, and the smell of chip pans and cheap burgers invaded my nostrils. I even came round enough from my semi-conscious state to avert my eyes to the left during the journey, hence missing the nauseating deep pink Austrian blinds and the neighbouring shouldn't-be-legal purple paintwork of the neighbouring house, thank goodness!
I didn't even cast a passing glance at dear Sidney's ex-fence panel, and I'll tell you why......I received a text from him at the weekend saying that he was having the time of his life and has met a lovely lady snail called Cynthia. Good old Sidney!
I did, however, notice that No.75 (the Vampire house) still has all it's front-facing curtains drawn. Some very odd folk around!
My next blog post may very well be my final one (i.e. bus to get my car back, fully functional) but I have thoroughly enjoyed sharing my life in the bus lane with you and long may it not continue ;))
This is hopefully one of my last blogs in this remarkably hilarious account of my life in the bus lane whilst I've been waiting for a part for my car for the last 26 days!!!!! I actually had a tweet today asking whether the part was being grown in a lab?
However.....the fabulous news is : I got a call from the garage owner today saying that the part had arrived. So, full of anticipation and untold excitement, I left work at 4.40pm (it would have been 4.30pm had I not received a phone call from security which meant I had to in turn make a phone call to the security engineers) and plodded down the hill to my house. I say 'plodded', as I do tend to plod in my sandals, them being quite loose, and I am aware that I walk very differently in my sandals than I do in my snug-fitting trainers......oh, you would never catch me plodding in trainers.....in those, it's more of a stride. But, today, I had my sandals on and, like I said, I plodded down the hill.
I had to walk past my house to the driveway where my poor neglected and long-suffering car through no fault of its own - or mine for that matter - was sitting there all dejected and unloved and just longing for me to drive it again. Glancing up at my bedroom window, on the front of the house, (obviously, as I don't have a periscope that goes all the way round to the back of the house!) I note with relief that Muppet isn't sitting on the windowsill looking out for me and getting all excited. Because, little did I realise at that time, it would be almost an hour before I returned home.
At the driveway entrance, car keys already in hand, I pointed the key at my poor car and jubilantly pressed the unlock button. My car winked at me, with both indicators......I got in, happily reacquainting my bottom with the driver's seat, and started her up. Bingo! If cars could smile, I'm quite certain that mine was smiling at that moment.
I reversed carefully down the driveway, having removed the wheelie bins out of the way beforehand, and I reversed my little car out onto the main road for the first time in getting on for a month, and hoped to God I could remember how to drive.
And also, that I had no mishaps en route to the garage, especially any that involved my car bursting into flames or exploding.
Reaching the local garage, I parked in the bay marked as 'MOT Parking'......completely disregarding this sign and not in the least bit bothered about the fact that I had blatantly ignored a sign (get me!), locked up my car and swaggered into the office to finally hand over my key.
Bob, the garage owner, took pleasure in showing me the unimpressive but nevertheless long awaited filler pipe that was to cost me £140 plus vat plus labour. (All through no fault of my own, remember). 'It's been powder-coated', he remarked. 'Oh, yes!' I replied, none the wiser. Basically I just want them to fit the bloody thing so that I can regain my long-missed freedom. I didn't care if it was silver-plated, or coated in gold leaf by orphans, I just wanted my car back.
I left the car in the hands of the garage, and Bob said that he would be in touch, so I waved and gave him the thumbs up.
Tesco is a mere hop, skip and jump from the garage, so it would have been amiss of me not to venture inside for goodies. I purchased the daily essentials (quick wink at Kathryn), and headed toward the bus terminus. I thought I would be clever, and instead of taking the usual route, I cut across the car park diagonally, thinking I would get there more directly, having no trolley to leave at the dreaded Red Line Where All Trolleys Will Halt.
It was about then that I glanced up and realised that I couldn't see the bus terminus in the distance. At all. Where had it gone? I stood there pondering, then realised I was heading in too much of a diagonal direction so veered left and found those little clear plastic bus stop canopies that I have come to recognise, albeit unwittingly and certainly unwillingly, like an oasis in the desert.
There are 4 bus shelters at this terminus, and all four were deserted. I arrived at mine, acutely aware that my bags needed adjusting.....i.e. my sturdy work bag was almost empty, one Tesco carrier was light, the other very heavy and the handles had been cutting into my hands. Having got out my bus fare ready, I decided to readjust the shopping. I moved the contents of the light Tesco bag into my sturdy bag, forgetting I was holding my bus fare in my hand, which promptly fell deep down into the sturdy bag. I fished it out, put it safely onto the ground, and tried to double bag the heavy Tesco bag with the now empty Tesco bag. Easier said than done in a sudden breeze. The empty bag was flapping randomly and I finally managed to get the heavy bag shoved into it, in albeit a not that ladylike posture.
At which point, obviously, a guy joined me at the bus stop, whilst I was mid-curse and with my bottom wriggling in the air.
Task completed, I straightened my dishevelled hair and tried to look normal. Which turned out to be a complete waste of time because the first thing this guy did after saying 'It's hot, isn't it? I've just been in the chemists doing this in front of their fan' and proceeded to lift up his t-shirt and demonstrate to me how he had just done this very same thing in front of the fan in the chemists. To which he added, 'The chemist asked me what I was doing, and I said I was cooling off.' Well, of course. I've often lifted up my top in the chemists and cooled myself down in front of the fan. (Not!!!!!!) I know you will put nothing past me now, but really, I have never done that. Although I might have been tempted a few times.
It was over ten minutes before the bus turned up, so I chatted idly with him and then another guy and a lady who thankfully arrived at the bus stop moments later. The chest-flashing guy, I noted, had a front tooth missing, which - after watching him make a roll-up - I mused, would fit in that gap perfectly. Sort of like having a ready-made roll-up holder.
The familiar and now-welcome sight of a blue and orange coach with the number 51 on the front panel arrived, and we bus-stop dwellers embarked. The sadistic driver kept us waiting a good further 5 minutes in the stifling heat of the stationary bus and I had to question the saying that horses sweat, men perspire, and ladies glow, because I was well past glowing or perspiring......I was sweating like a filly at this this point!
Eventually, the bus set off and I revelled in the cooling breeze that came through the open windows as we journeyed through the council estate, and the smell of chip pans and cheap burgers invaded my nostrils. I even came round enough from my semi-conscious state to avert my eyes to the left during the journey, hence missing the nauseating deep pink Austrian blinds and the neighbouring shouldn't-be-legal purple paintwork of the neighbouring house, thank goodness!
I didn't even cast a passing glance at dear Sidney's ex-fence panel, and I'll tell you why......I received a text from him at the weekend saying that he was having the time of his life and has met a lovely lady snail called Cynthia. Good old Sidney!
I did, however, notice that No.75 (the Vampire house) still has all it's front-facing curtains drawn. Some very odd folk around!
My next blog post may very well be my final one (i.e. bus to get my car back, fully functional) but I have thoroughly enjoyed sharing my life in the bus lane with you and long may it not continue ;))
Thursday 18 July 2013
Day 4 - Penultimate week
I do believe that today I set a world record, as in 30 minutes door to door!
Usually a later finish for me on a Thursday, as the housekeeper now has Fridays off too, therefore I have to wash all the mugs up before I leave. Being quite an alien experience for me, this washing up lark, it takes me a while to get the hang of it.
Feeling quite blasé and therefore not even checking the bus times, I stroll down the longer-than-average driveway at around 16.50. To my joy, upon scrutinising the not-punched-in-because-it-is-a-posh-street timetable, I see that a bus is due within minutes, without me having to dodge the traffic or leap in front of it doing star-jumps.
A few minutes later up it trundles, my favourite blue and orange vision ever, and I pay £2.60 (harsh lesson learnt) and request a return ticket to the local town, which I find does indeed, for today, cost £2.60.
I get off, and stand there trying to recall why I went into town today, then realised it was because I couldn't be bothered to walk to the local Post Office/seller of everyday essentials. (And yes, Kathryn, you are absolutely correct in your assumption!)
There was a lady randomly sitting outside one of the shops opposite my bus stop, who was regarding me somewhat curiously as I was standing there wondering whether I had been wanting to turn left or right upon getting off the bus. I decided I wanted to go to my right, and gave the lady a little wave and called, 'I'm not sure where I'm wanting to go!' to which she smiled and waved back, and I relaxed in the knowledge that she wouldn't lose any sleep over it.
I purchased the necessary supplies at the shop around the corner, and headed for the bus stop, feeling guilty as usual for pressing the button on the pedestrian crossing and stopping the traffic. I reached the bus stop, and upon inspecting the definitely-punched-in timetable I saw with much excitement that a bus was due! No sooner had I put my shopping bags down and there it was, looming around the corner towards me like a blue and orange mirage. I thrust out my hand defiantly, and gathered up my shopping. Upon embarking, and realising the driver was a friendly chap, I questioned him whilst he tore my return ticket 'Do you have to stick your hand out these days, or is it just me that does this?'
'If you don't stick your hand out then we probably won't stop', he replied.
A passenger standing up next to the driver said 'You can stick owt you want out, love'
The driver responded 'Stick your leg out, or anything'.
I left it at that and took a seat, feeling this wasn't a conversation I felt inclined to pursue further.
No passengers particularly stood out today, except maybe the lanky-haired goth looking guy dressed in black and the only reason he stood out was because I was thinking how hot he must be wearing all black.
The bus emptied at each stop, and nobody deemed to get on. Hence, the bus was almost empty, when a voice shouted extremely loudly from the rear of the bus to the guy standing talking to the driver, making me almost jump out of my skin. Talk about Gob Almighty. I'm sure I'm still deafened from the sudden onslaught. She was shouting at someone on the same (empty-ish) bus, not somebody in the next County FFS. My goodness!
At least this sudden temporary deafness and shock distracted me from the deep pink Austrian blinds house and the neighbouring shouldn't-be-legal purple paintwork of the neighbouring house en route. I did, however, spot a house with 2 flags up....one, the Union Flag, the other, a Skull and Crossbones. This needs to be investigated further, and quite possibly with a camera crew and full police presence and an armed-response team on standby.
I got off the bus, at the same time jubilant that door-to-door was a mere 30 minutes today, and also ready to collapse under the intense heat. Only one week to go, I think, pushing myself to carry those bags and not faint until I get inside my house.
Yes, come Monday afternoon, I can call the local garage who have promised to chase my long awaited part that day. I will, naturally, keep you posted on developments.
For the followers who have consistently asked about Sidney, I have good news. I received a text message from him today, saying how happy he was in the Retirement Home and was a big hit with the ladies there, and had forged a friendship with Cynthia the Snail.
Seems like Sidney is having a snail of a time! (puts fingers in ears to drown out the groans and boos)
Well, you did ask!
Usually a later finish for me on a Thursday, as the housekeeper now has Fridays off too, therefore I have to wash all the mugs up before I leave. Being quite an alien experience for me, this washing up lark, it takes me a while to get the hang of it.
Feeling quite blasé and therefore not even checking the bus times, I stroll down the longer-than-average driveway at around 16.50. To my joy, upon scrutinising the not-punched-in-because-it-is-a-posh-street timetable, I see that a bus is due within minutes, without me having to dodge the traffic or leap in front of it doing star-jumps.
A few minutes later up it trundles, my favourite blue and orange vision ever, and I pay £2.60 (harsh lesson learnt) and request a return ticket to the local town, which I find does indeed, for today, cost £2.60.
I get off, and stand there trying to recall why I went into town today, then realised it was because I couldn't be bothered to walk to the local Post Office/seller of everyday essentials. (And yes, Kathryn, you are absolutely correct in your assumption!)
There was a lady randomly sitting outside one of the shops opposite my bus stop, who was regarding me somewhat curiously as I was standing there wondering whether I had been wanting to turn left or right upon getting off the bus. I decided I wanted to go to my right, and gave the lady a little wave and called, 'I'm not sure where I'm wanting to go!' to which she smiled and waved back, and I relaxed in the knowledge that she wouldn't lose any sleep over it.
I purchased the necessary supplies at the shop around the corner, and headed for the bus stop, feeling guilty as usual for pressing the button on the pedestrian crossing and stopping the traffic. I reached the bus stop, and upon inspecting the definitely-punched-in timetable I saw with much excitement that a bus was due! No sooner had I put my shopping bags down and there it was, looming around the corner towards me like a blue and orange mirage. I thrust out my hand defiantly, and gathered up my shopping. Upon embarking, and realising the driver was a friendly chap, I questioned him whilst he tore my return ticket 'Do you have to stick your hand out these days, or is it just me that does this?'
'If you don't stick your hand out then we probably won't stop', he replied.
A passenger standing up next to the driver said 'You can stick owt you want out, love'
The driver responded 'Stick your leg out, or anything'.
I left it at that and took a seat, feeling this wasn't a conversation I felt inclined to pursue further.
No passengers particularly stood out today, except maybe the lanky-haired goth looking guy dressed in black and the only reason he stood out was because I was thinking how hot he must be wearing all black.
The bus emptied at each stop, and nobody deemed to get on. Hence, the bus was almost empty, when a voice shouted extremely loudly from the rear of the bus to the guy standing talking to the driver, making me almost jump out of my skin. Talk about Gob Almighty. I'm sure I'm still deafened from the sudden onslaught. She was shouting at someone on the same (empty-ish) bus, not somebody in the next County FFS. My goodness!
At least this sudden temporary deafness and shock distracted me from the deep pink Austrian blinds house and the neighbouring shouldn't-be-legal purple paintwork of the neighbouring house en route. I did, however, spot a house with 2 flags up....one, the Union Flag, the other, a Skull and Crossbones. This needs to be investigated further, and quite possibly with a camera crew and full police presence and an armed-response team on standby.
I got off the bus, at the same time jubilant that door-to-door was a mere 30 minutes today, and also ready to collapse under the intense heat. Only one week to go, I think, pushing myself to carry those bags and not faint until I get inside my house.
Yes, come Monday afternoon, I can call the local garage who have promised to chase my long awaited part that day. I will, naturally, keep you posted on developments.
For the followers who have consistently asked about Sidney, I have good news. I received a text message from him today, saying how happy he was in the Retirement Home and was a big hit with the ladies there, and had forged a friendship with Cynthia the Snail.
Seems like Sidney is having a snail of a time! (puts fingers in ears to drown out the groans and boos)
Well, you did ask!
Wednesday 17 July 2013
Day 3 of whatever week this is ;)
Good day at work, lots and lots of people on site today, meaning lots of tea and coffee making for me, as we wouldn't want any of the workforce to start slacking due to dehydration now!
Locked up and left at around 16.40 today, and walked to the local Post Office, having been buggered by 3 jacket potatoes this afternoon. My boss will often buy a packet of four, have one, then give me the other three. Hence, I was lugging these along with me to the Post Office.
En route, I heard a bus coming up alongside me, and instinctively stepped further away from the kerb in case the driver recognised me and *accidentally mounted the kerb, having lost control of the vehicle - a tragic accident* and mowed me down.
I reached the Post Office, with no upper-support worries whatsoever as I had more support than the other day, indeed things seemed quite under control, which was good, as I prefer to choose to do Zumba, not the other way around.
I was quite excited to see my friend Christine's car parked outside the Post Office/shop, as for a moment I thought she might be finishing at 5pm and if I was really, really nice to her, I could get a lift home. My heart sank as I saw Christine working away in the Post Office....i.e. she didn't finish there until 5.30pm, hence no hope of a lift. Undeterred, I we exchanged a cheery wave, as good friends do, lift or no lift.
After purchasing some essential everyday items *cough*, I trudged through the exhausting heat to the bus stop. Following my now usual routine, I placed my bags on the ground and checked my mobile for the time, and then checked the punched-in timetable for the next bus due.
I couldn't believe my luck! Finally......Lady Luck was smiling at me.....the next bus was due......right this minute!!!!!!!!!
Doubting this, and feeling quite giddy at the very thought, I didn't hold my breath. But within 30 seconds here it came, that familiar blue and orange vision, trundling over the hill towards me. And, I am not at all embarrassed to say this, when I saw the bus I squealed out loud 'It's coming!'
This evening has been the best experience ever, having left work at 16.40 and getting home at 17.10......just half an hour door to door!!!!!!! Gold Stars all round ;)
No traumas, no odd-looking passengers staring at me and chewing nasty buzzing insects, no star from Harry Potter....bliss.
Am very impressed!
And, I do believe I deserve a Good Bus Day for once! ;)
Locked up and left at around 16.40 today, and walked to the local Post Office, having been buggered by 3 jacket potatoes this afternoon. My boss will often buy a packet of four, have one, then give me the other three. Hence, I was lugging these along with me to the Post Office.
En route, I heard a bus coming up alongside me, and instinctively stepped further away from the kerb in case the driver recognised me and *accidentally mounted the kerb, having lost control of the vehicle - a tragic accident* and mowed me down.
I reached the Post Office, with no upper-support worries whatsoever as I had more support than the other day, indeed things seemed quite under control, which was good, as I prefer to choose to do Zumba, not the other way around.
I was quite excited to see my friend Christine's car parked outside the Post Office/shop, as for a moment I thought she might be finishing at 5pm and if I was really, really nice to her, I could get a lift home. My heart sank as I saw Christine working away in the Post Office....i.e. she didn't finish there until 5.30pm, hence no hope of a lift. Undeterred, I we exchanged a cheery wave, as good friends do, lift or no lift.
After purchasing some essential everyday items *cough*, I trudged through the exhausting heat to the bus stop. Following my now usual routine, I placed my bags on the ground and checked my mobile for the time, and then checked the punched-in timetable for the next bus due.
I couldn't believe my luck! Finally......Lady Luck was smiling at me.....the next bus was due......right this minute!!!!!!!!!
Doubting this, and feeling quite giddy at the very thought, I didn't hold my breath. But within 30 seconds here it came, that familiar blue and orange vision, trundling over the hill towards me. And, I am not at all embarrassed to say this, when I saw the bus I squealed out loud 'It's coming!'
This evening has been the best experience ever, having left work at 16.40 and getting home at 17.10......just half an hour door to door!!!!!!! Gold Stars all round ;)
No traumas, no odd-looking passengers staring at me and chewing nasty buzzing insects, no star from Harry Potter....bliss.
Am very impressed!
And, I do believe I deserve a Good Bus Day for once! ;)
Tuesday 16 July 2013
Week 3 - Day 2
Different route for me today, as needed to go into the local town.
You may, or may not recall, that the return bus fare into said local town is usually £2.10, apart from that time the robbing git of a bus driver charged me £3.10. After said episode, I now stick to my guns and proffer £2.10 into the driver's receptacle, so to speak. (Don't tempt me!)
I locked up, alarmed, and left work at 4.30pm today, and walked down the longer-than-average driveway, arriving at the bus stop and seeing on the non-punched timetable (posh street) that the next bus was due any minute, and for once, it hadn't zoomed past in a blaze of blue and orange glory just as I reached the ornate cast iron gates.
As it happened, I crossed the road without incident to said bus stop, and indeed also without seeing the bus approaching and throwing myself in front of it. The bus arrived at 16.38 (a few minutes late)....a posh new one, which I hadn't had the pleasure of until now, so I was expecting great things....and I boarded and placed my £2.10 into the driver's receptacle and asked for a return to town.
'£2.60', the driver said.
'£2.10 usually', I retorted. (I omitted to say unless you're the robbing git that charged me £3.10, which I knew he wasn't, as he was thin and grey and wiry and not burly like the robbing git)
'£2.60', he said again.
Here we go. You've just never got a machete on you when you need one, have you?
'It's usually £2.10 as they put from Holmegate?' I offered with a smile.
'This isn't Holmegate', he replied, obstinately.
I shrugged and fumbled around in my cavernous bag for my purse, and slapped another 50p in the driver's receptacle.
'You've been getting away with that, then', he remarked smugly.
Snatching my ticket, I shot back 'well we won't say anything about that then shall we?' and took a seat.
Inspecting my ticket, I noted that indeed, it did say 'Royal Oak' instead of the usual 'Holmegate'. I felt like marching up to the driver and pointing out that this wasn't the bloody Royal Oak either, as that was 3/4 mile back the other way!
Of course, I resisted, as I have been brought up to be polite and not annoy people.
I got off the bus, planning to use the cut-through to the main Post Office, only to find that the iron gates were locked at the end of the little walk-through shortcut. Hey-ho!
Soooo, I had to walk the long way round to the main post office, including walking past some merry revellers sitting outside a local pub on the corner, and conduct my business at the Post Office, and then walk up the street and to the store *coughs* en route to the bus stop to return home.
I arrived at the bus stop having missed the bus by 4 minutes. The bus went at 16.54, and I got there at 16.58. I peered at the fist-punched-in timetable to find that the next bus was at 17.16. Oh, well forgive me for the constant deja vu - but I had 18 minutes to wait until the next bus. Even though in that time, 2 buses went past the other way. Explain that one, if you can, as these buses do the same route on a loop.
Hot, bothered, and tired, those 18 minutes seemed interminable, and as each smug driver passed I was willing them to give me a lift.
Said bus arrived, mercifully bang on time (I was checking on my iphone) and I boarded and offered my ticket to the 20yr old young male driver. Normally, the driver just tears your ticket a little way then hands it back.....this one, however, folded it as if to perform some sort of Origami, and my ticket was returned with a little unidentified shaped hole in the middle of it. I guessed he was new and had 'been on a course on how to manipulate a return ticket in 100 ways.
The bus was quite full, although I noted that Gandalf wasn't on it (I won't miss that autograph opportunity again!). There was, however, a man wearing what looked to all intents and purposes a ladies vest top, and a large lady in pink sitting at the front, sideways on, i.e. a 45 degree slope, who looked like a bulldog who had swallowed a wasp. I saw her looking at me, and offered a smile. She didn't return the smile, but kept staring at me. My thoughts were, either smile back or stop effing well staring at me, woman! She got off a few stops later, obviously to offload her natural miserableness onto her beloved, if she has one. It's my guess she was off to get the chip pan on PDQ.
Am tempted to give Stagecoach a call tomorrow to ascertain exactly what the return fare into the local town should be. £2.10? £2.60? £3.10? All from the same stop, at roughly the same time.
It's becoming a bit like Deal or no Deal....i.e. what's in the box...what price is it today for a return ticket?!
You may, or may not recall, that the return bus fare into said local town is usually £2.10, apart from that time the robbing git of a bus driver charged me £3.10. After said episode, I now stick to my guns and proffer £2.10 into the driver's receptacle, so to speak. (Don't tempt me!)
I locked up, alarmed, and left work at 4.30pm today, and walked down the longer-than-average driveway, arriving at the bus stop and seeing on the non-punched timetable (posh street) that the next bus was due any minute, and for once, it hadn't zoomed past in a blaze of blue and orange glory just as I reached the ornate cast iron gates.
As it happened, I crossed the road without incident to said bus stop, and indeed also without seeing the bus approaching and throwing myself in front of it. The bus arrived at 16.38 (a few minutes late)....a posh new one, which I hadn't had the pleasure of until now, so I was expecting great things....and I boarded and placed my £2.10 into the driver's receptacle and asked for a return to town.
'£2.60', the driver said.
'£2.10 usually', I retorted. (I omitted to say unless you're the robbing git that charged me £3.10, which I knew he wasn't, as he was thin and grey and wiry and not burly like the robbing git)
'£2.60', he said again.
Here we go. You've just never got a machete on you when you need one, have you?
'It's usually £2.10 as they put from Holmegate?' I offered with a smile.
'This isn't Holmegate', he replied, obstinately.
I shrugged and fumbled around in my cavernous bag for my purse, and slapped another 50p in the driver's receptacle.
'You've been getting away with that, then', he remarked smugly.
Snatching my ticket, I shot back 'well we won't say anything about that then shall we?' and took a seat.
Inspecting my ticket, I noted that indeed, it did say 'Royal Oak' instead of the usual 'Holmegate'. I felt like marching up to the driver and pointing out that this wasn't the bloody Royal Oak either, as that was 3/4 mile back the other way!
Of course, I resisted, as I have been brought up to be polite and not annoy people.
I got off the bus, planning to use the cut-through to the main Post Office, only to find that the iron gates were locked at the end of the little walk-through shortcut. Hey-ho!
Soooo, I had to walk the long way round to the main post office, including walking past some merry revellers sitting outside a local pub on the corner, and conduct my business at the Post Office, and then walk up the street and to the store *coughs* en route to the bus stop to return home.
I arrived at the bus stop having missed the bus by 4 minutes. The bus went at 16.54, and I got there at 16.58. I peered at the fist-punched-in timetable to find that the next bus was at 17.16. Oh, well forgive me for the constant deja vu - but I had 18 minutes to wait until the next bus. Even though in that time, 2 buses went past the other way. Explain that one, if you can, as these buses do the same route on a loop.
Hot, bothered, and tired, those 18 minutes seemed interminable, and as each smug driver passed I was willing them to give me a lift.
Said bus arrived, mercifully bang on time (I was checking on my iphone) and I boarded and offered my ticket to the 20yr old young male driver. Normally, the driver just tears your ticket a little way then hands it back.....this one, however, folded it as if to perform some sort of Origami, and my ticket was returned with a little unidentified shaped hole in the middle of it. I guessed he was new and had 'been on a course on how to manipulate a return ticket in 100 ways.
The bus was quite full, although I noted that Gandalf wasn't on it (I won't miss that autograph opportunity again!). There was, however, a man wearing what looked to all intents and purposes a ladies vest top, and a large lady in pink sitting at the front, sideways on, i.e. a 45 degree slope, who looked like a bulldog who had swallowed a wasp. I saw her looking at me, and offered a smile. She didn't return the smile, but kept staring at me. My thoughts were, either smile back or stop effing well staring at me, woman! She got off a few stops later, obviously to offload her natural miserableness onto her beloved, if she has one. It's my guess she was off to get the chip pan on PDQ.
Am tempted to give Stagecoach a call tomorrow to ascertain exactly what the return fare into the local town should be. £2.10? £2.60? £3.10? All from the same stop, at roughly the same time.
It's becoming a bit like Deal or no Deal....i.e. what's in the box...what price is it today for a return ticket?!
Monday 15 July 2013
Week 3 - Day 1
One of my usual routes today, as in local Post Office to post work mail and purchase stamps.
Locked up and left work at a few minutes before 4.30pm (that being the earliest time I feel I can leave, morally), relieved to see blinds down in boss's kitchen window (she lives opposite the offices) and therefore believing that if I closed the office door quietly and tiptoed down the longer-than-average drive she would be none the wiser.
Therefore, I closed the office door quietly and was just about to lock it when I spotted my boss watering the lawn to my left. Eeeek! I waved a cheery goodbye, said see you in the morning, and legged it guiltily down the longer-than-average drive, hoping she wasn't wearing a watch.
I walked steadily (unhindered by parcels) towards the local Post Office, feeling very aware that my upper support today was rather flimsy and feeling very self-conscious that certain parts of my anatomy were wobbling around quite unnecessarily. Hopefully, if any resulting collisions came to court, I wouldn't be held liable. I can see it now - Court v Mother Nature. What an interesting case that would be!
En route to the local Post Office, I passed a car parked up and heard a lady say 'Hiya!', and walked on, thinking said lady had parked up to make a call on her mobile. Something registered, however, in my mind, and I took a few steps back to realise that the lady in the parked car was my friend Christine, and that she had indeed being saying 'Hiya' to me. We chatted for a few minutes - she was waiting for her husband who had been gardening in the nearby house, and then he appeared and Christine offered me a lift the rest of the way to the local Post Office, which after a momentary objection, I gratefully accepted! Thanks, Christine! ;)
I did what I needed to do (i.e. purchase stamps for work) and purchased a few items (yes, they sell wine!) and headed for the bus stop. On the way, I saw a young couple with a buggy containing 2 very young children (if I had to guess, I would say one baby and one slightly older baby, nearing toddler) sitting on the wall waiting for the bus going the opposite way to me. The bus stops were almost opposite each other. I saw them there last Monday too. The young male of the couple greeted me heartily as I approached, asking how I was etc. I don't know this person, I swear. First time I ever saw him was last Monday and we didn't have any exchange then.
Being brought up to be polite, I replied that I was fine thanks etc. There was lots of room on the pavement next to the buggy, but he said 'Oh, sorry, are you wanting to go around' and making as if to move the buggy out of the way. I was torn between saying 'there's plenty of room for a little one like me' (haha!) and 'No, I thought I would just stand here behind your buggy all night'.
Arriving at the bus stop, I could hear this young man talking.....and really, I'm sure it isn't necessary to sprinkle your sentences with quite so many swear words, or the word 'man'. Thank goodness Sidney the Snail didn't have to be subjected to such language. Maybe that is why he moved on? Snails can be so sensitive. Don't get me wrong, I have myself uttered the occasional swear word, but only in context and definitely not as an adjective to punctuate each sentence!
The bus arrives, bang on time, and I embark. Nobody of any note on the bus, and not much at all to report on that score. (The main villains are on the journey back from the local town.)
Hence.....wait for it.....drum roll please.....I arrived home just 35 minutes after leaving work....amazing!
Maybe things are looking up?
Though still in two minds re local garage owner saying part for my car out of stock as common problem, and Nissan telling me problem just with my car.....hmmmm.....maybe I will investigate this further....;) x
Locked up and left work at a few minutes before 4.30pm (that being the earliest time I feel I can leave, morally), relieved to see blinds down in boss's kitchen window (she lives opposite the offices) and therefore believing that if I closed the office door quietly and tiptoed down the longer-than-average drive she would be none the wiser.
Therefore, I closed the office door quietly and was just about to lock it when I spotted my boss watering the lawn to my left. Eeeek! I waved a cheery goodbye, said see you in the morning, and legged it guiltily down the longer-than-average drive, hoping she wasn't wearing a watch.
I walked steadily (unhindered by parcels) towards the local Post Office, feeling very aware that my upper support today was rather flimsy and feeling very self-conscious that certain parts of my anatomy were wobbling around quite unnecessarily. Hopefully, if any resulting collisions came to court, I wouldn't be held liable. I can see it now - Court v Mother Nature. What an interesting case that would be!
En route to the local Post Office, I passed a car parked up and heard a lady say 'Hiya!', and walked on, thinking said lady had parked up to make a call on her mobile. Something registered, however, in my mind, and I took a few steps back to realise that the lady in the parked car was my friend Christine, and that she had indeed being saying 'Hiya' to me. We chatted for a few minutes - she was waiting for her husband who had been gardening in the nearby house, and then he appeared and Christine offered me a lift the rest of the way to the local Post Office, which after a momentary objection, I gratefully accepted! Thanks, Christine! ;)
I did what I needed to do (i.e. purchase stamps for work) and purchased a few items (yes, they sell wine!) and headed for the bus stop. On the way, I saw a young couple with a buggy containing 2 very young children (if I had to guess, I would say one baby and one slightly older baby, nearing toddler) sitting on the wall waiting for the bus going the opposite way to me. The bus stops were almost opposite each other. I saw them there last Monday too. The young male of the couple greeted me heartily as I approached, asking how I was etc. I don't know this person, I swear. First time I ever saw him was last Monday and we didn't have any exchange then.
Being brought up to be polite, I replied that I was fine thanks etc. There was lots of room on the pavement next to the buggy, but he said 'Oh, sorry, are you wanting to go around' and making as if to move the buggy out of the way. I was torn between saying 'there's plenty of room for a little one like me' (haha!) and 'No, I thought I would just stand here behind your buggy all night'.
Arriving at the bus stop, I could hear this young man talking.....and really, I'm sure it isn't necessary to sprinkle your sentences with quite so many swear words, or the word 'man'. Thank goodness Sidney the Snail didn't have to be subjected to such language. Maybe that is why he moved on? Snails can be so sensitive. Don't get me wrong, I have myself uttered the occasional swear word, but only in context and definitely not as an adjective to punctuate each sentence!
The bus arrives, bang on time, and I embark. Nobody of any note on the bus, and not much at all to report on that score. (The main villains are on the journey back from the local town.)
Hence.....wait for it.....drum roll please.....I arrived home just 35 minutes after leaving work....amazing!
Maybe things are looking up?
Though still in two minds re local garage owner saying part for my car out of stock as common problem, and Nissan telling me problem just with my car.....hmmmm.....maybe I will investigate this further....;) x
Sunday 14 July 2013
Saturday Surprise!
This weekend, I decided to challenge myself to a little adventure...a weekend outing on the bus into my local town.
My main dilemma was what to wear, as this was a proper outing, not just a ride home after work. And one should never wear work gear on a weekend, it just wouldn't seem right. When I catch the bus in the week, I haven't a single care what I look like, as I am in my work clothes. But this was different!
Wardrobe decided, I headed to the bus stop with my shopping list in my little bag. I was going to Tesco! Yes...after 2 whole weeks....you see, I was getting SWS - Supermarket Withdrawal Syndrome, because I usually frequent Tesco at least 2 or 3 times a week. I had an online delivery on Friday, but it's just not the same as being there and feeling the firmness or otherwise of the produce etc.!
I stood at the bus stop, visualising myself running my fingers over those courgettes and testing the firmness of the pears.
The now familiar bus rounded the corner and I stuck my hand out assertively. I'm not actually sure anybody else except myself does this nowadays....I guess it's just a habit of mine. Bus driver probably wets himself laughing when I do it.
The other passengers were a much cheerier bunch than those during the weekday rush hour (that's a laugh!) and an elderly gentleman whom I knew from when I worked in the local shop a few years ago came and sat next to me, and we chatted happily throughout the journey, as excited as the other passengers to be getting out and about.
We disembarked at the same stop, and said farewell and went in different directions....him through the little cut-through to the card shop, and myself towards Tesco. Which has moved further away since the last time I visited, I'm sure. Oh, yes, well that would possibly have been in my car.....which makes the lengthy journey not-so-lengthy...imagine that!
I headed for the blue Tesco sign which blazed like a beacon on the horizon. The far horizon, I might add. It was a good 15 minute walk up to their sliding doors!
Feeling quite liberated by now, I decided that I may well throw caution to the wind and treat myself to a taxi back home.
I can't even begin to tell you how good that trolley felt as I pushed it into the store which I had missed so much.
I browsed to my heart's content, touching up the veg and joyfully trailing my fingers along the length of the cucumbers.....such bliss to be able to grab and squeeze things! You just don't get that from online shopping! I half expected some of the staff to welcome me back and ask if I'd been away, but I think they were all busy.
Well, I needn't have been so concerned about my wardrobe choices, as there were all manner of outfits on display by other shoppers. I decided these people obviously had their car with them, as I, too, believe it or not, have not cared what I look like when all I need to do is hop in and out of the car. But you are more obvious when you take the bus.....people notice you.
I wandered up and down the aisles, mingled and browsed and smiled at other shoppers, and had a thoroughly good time. I put my purchases through the checkout, and left the store.....examining my goods and deciding that because I only had 2 carrier bags (full, I admit), that I could indeed carry them the half mile or so to the bus stop and save myself a) being scoffed at by the taxi driver and b) about £4.00.
When I say I only had 2 carrier bags of goodies, I realise that I had packed for the car boot, not for the trek to the bus stop. I should have distributed said items between 4 carrier bags, as my 2 carrier bags were straining and the plastic was visibly stretching with the weight and I feared they may well snap. I could only blame myself though, as I was guilty of doing the packing. I said a silent prayer that the wine bottle wouldn't break if the handles snapped.
I utilised the shopping trolley as far as I could.....well, as far as I felt morally inclined to do so in case the trolley boy was watching...and deposited the trolley at the limits of the car park, leaving it there with a dozen others, no doubt from a dozen other bus-goers. A little way on, I noticed a solitary abandoned trolley at the Red Line, across which 'No trolley shall ever venture'. So that was true, then!
In the far distance I could see the bus terminus, and pushed myself on with my 2 carrier bags stretching and growing longer by the minute, almost scraping the ground by the time I reached - in the blistering heat of possibly the hottest day since time began - the bus stop.
I sensibly placed my bags down in the shade of the adjacent bins, being careful to check beforehand that the ground was clean and without human or dog spillage.
My luck was in! Only a couple of minutes later the bus turned up, and the bus queue and myself boarded.
Not so bad, after all, I mused, feeling relieved. Then the bus engine was switched off and yes, you've guessed it, the driver went outside to make a call on his mobile. The heat in the bus was quite stifling whilst it wasn't moving, and I was soon hot and bothered, overheating and running with sweat. I extracted my shopping list from my little bag and fanned myself, regretting not buying twice as much as I had and therefore feeling justified in grabbing a taxi home.
The driver finished his call (I heard him saying 'I'm supposed to be driving' and resisted the urge to yell 'Yes, you effing well are' as I've been brought up to be polite and not upset others) and we set off, to be serenaded all the way by some gobby woman at the back on her mobile who was effing and blinding like there's no tomorrow. I could sense the lady sitting nearby me flinch at each swear word. A posh-looking lady. Obviously not too posh to use her free bus pass though, eh?!!
My main dilemma was what to wear, as this was a proper outing, not just a ride home after work. And one should never wear work gear on a weekend, it just wouldn't seem right. When I catch the bus in the week, I haven't a single care what I look like, as I am in my work clothes. But this was different!
Wardrobe decided, I headed to the bus stop with my shopping list in my little bag. I was going to Tesco! Yes...after 2 whole weeks....you see, I was getting SWS - Supermarket Withdrawal Syndrome, because I usually frequent Tesco at least 2 or 3 times a week. I had an online delivery on Friday, but it's just not the same as being there and feeling the firmness or otherwise of the produce etc.!
I stood at the bus stop, visualising myself running my fingers over those courgettes and testing the firmness of the pears.
The now familiar bus rounded the corner and I stuck my hand out assertively. I'm not actually sure anybody else except myself does this nowadays....I guess it's just a habit of mine. Bus driver probably wets himself laughing when I do it.
The other passengers were a much cheerier bunch than those during the weekday rush hour (that's a laugh!) and an elderly gentleman whom I knew from when I worked in the local shop a few years ago came and sat next to me, and we chatted happily throughout the journey, as excited as the other passengers to be getting out and about.
We disembarked at the same stop, and said farewell and went in different directions....him through the little cut-through to the card shop, and myself towards Tesco. Which has moved further away since the last time I visited, I'm sure. Oh, yes, well that would possibly have been in my car.....which makes the lengthy journey not-so-lengthy...imagine that!
I headed for the blue Tesco sign which blazed like a beacon on the horizon. The far horizon, I might add. It was a good 15 minute walk up to their sliding doors!
Feeling quite liberated by now, I decided that I may well throw caution to the wind and treat myself to a taxi back home.
I can't even begin to tell you how good that trolley felt as I pushed it into the store which I had missed so much.
I browsed to my heart's content, touching up the veg and joyfully trailing my fingers along the length of the cucumbers.....such bliss to be able to grab and squeeze things! You just don't get that from online shopping! I half expected some of the staff to welcome me back and ask if I'd been away, but I think they were all busy.
Well, I needn't have been so concerned about my wardrobe choices, as there were all manner of outfits on display by other shoppers. I decided these people obviously had their car with them, as I, too, believe it or not, have not cared what I look like when all I need to do is hop in and out of the car. But you are more obvious when you take the bus.....people notice you.
I wandered up and down the aisles, mingled and browsed and smiled at other shoppers, and had a thoroughly good time. I put my purchases through the checkout, and left the store.....examining my goods and deciding that because I only had 2 carrier bags (full, I admit), that I could indeed carry them the half mile or so to the bus stop and save myself a) being scoffed at by the taxi driver and b) about £4.00.
When I say I only had 2 carrier bags of goodies, I realise that I had packed for the car boot, not for the trek to the bus stop. I should have distributed said items between 4 carrier bags, as my 2 carrier bags were straining and the plastic was visibly stretching with the weight and I feared they may well snap. I could only blame myself though, as I was guilty of doing the packing. I said a silent prayer that the wine bottle wouldn't break if the handles snapped.
I utilised the shopping trolley as far as I could.....well, as far as I felt morally inclined to do so in case the trolley boy was watching...and deposited the trolley at the limits of the car park, leaving it there with a dozen others, no doubt from a dozen other bus-goers. A little way on, I noticed a solitary abandoned trolley at the Red Line, across which 'No trolley shall ever venture'. So that was true, then!
In the far distance I could see the bus terminus, and pushed myself on with my 2 carrier bags stretching and growing longer by the minute, almost scraping the ground by the time I reached - in the blistering heat of possibly the hottest day since time began - the bus stop.
I sensibly placed my bags down in the shade of the adjacent bins, being careful to check beforehand that the ground was clean and without human or dog spillage.
My luck was in! Only a couple of minutes later the bus turned up, and the bus queue and myself boarded.
Not so bad, after all, I mused, feeling relieved. Then the bus engine was switched off and yes, you've guessed it, the driver went outside to make a call on his mobile. The heat in the bus was quite stifling whilst it wasn't moving, and I was soon hot and bothered, overheating and running with sweat. I extracted my shopping list from my little bag and fanned myself, regretting not buying twice as much as I had and therefore feeling justified in grabbing a taxi home.
The driver finished his call (I heard him saying 'I'm supposed to be driving' and resisted the urge to yell 'Yes, you effing well are' as I've been brought up to be polite and not upset others) and we set off, to be serenaded all the way by some gobby woman at the back on her mobile who was effing and blinding like there's no tomorrow. I could sense the lady sitting nearby me flinch at each swear word. A posh-looking lady. Obviously not too posh to use her free bus pass though, eh?!!
Thursday 11 July 2013
Week 2....still? !
I would dearly love to reply to all of your amazing comments, but unable to find out whether this is possible....but just to say how much I appreciate them all ;)
Here is today's blog post......enjoy!
Late finishing work today, as slightly dishy VIP Professor visiting for a meeting this afternoon with my boss. My twitter friends will know how miffed I was on his last visit when my boss got a kiss and I didn't, (even though I had prepared the most fabulous lunch for him!) Well, it seems that my life in the bus lane is making me bolder (if not balder, through pulling my hair out in exasperation!)....and when he arrived this afternoon, instead of staying behind my impressive reception desk I made sure that I was 'free-range' and so when he greeted me I was loitering with intent and not hidden behind the reception desk barrier and I walked up to him to shake his hand....and he kissed me on both cheeks!! Haha! Finally I have been recognised as a top-class PA and not just somebody hiding behind 4ft of the finest wood!
So....I digress....but basically I had to hang around 'in case of need' (a document, a file, a cup of tea) - like an unspoken agreement between my boss and myself....although she made a point of thanking me twice for staying behind which was very nice. (As if I dared do any different haha!) I know after 7 years what is expected of me!
I locked up and alarmed at 17.25 and wended my weary way down the longer-than-average driveway, and....I know you believe me because not a word of this blog is untrue...I reach the ornate cast iron gates just as the bus I want to catch zooms past. For a moment my heart leaps, as the bus hasn't stopped at my usual bus stop, but has stopped around the corner......could the driver know me, and that I need to get this bus, and stopped just for me? Well of course not. We're not in dreamland here. He'd stopped to drop off a passenger who had more than likely pressed the 'stop' button too late for the driver's mind to engage. (This happened to me a few years back when I was using the bus and I rang the bell but the driver didn't deign to stop for another half a mile and I got off, in the snow, tired and hungry and with my shopping and promptly burst into tears.) So it does happen that occasionally the driver isn't paying attention.
I trudged....yes, trudged, as was tired after 2 busy days at work although hadn't been buggered by any member of the postal service today....to the local Post Office (yes, the one that sells wine) to post something for my boss. Oh, and quite possibly purchase a bottle of something white, chilled and grapey whilst I was there. I feel it is rude not to. I do like to support my local retailer!
Sarah was behind the counter in the shop today, and I haven't seen her for a while and so we got chatting. I ended up regaling my story about why I was without my car, and when I left the shop she said 'I hope the bus comes soon' to which I replied 'Thanks, but hopefully not before I reach the bus stop!'
I reached said bus stop a few minutes later, and noticed for the first time that the vertical blinds in the house next to number 75 had all of their vertically-blinded windows erm....blinded (i.e. blinds all closed). How very odd. The only reason I can now think of is that the bus stops right outside their houses and they are fed up of passengers looking in. I'm thinking nets are possibly a better privacy-enabling alternative to perpetual darkness?
Anyway.....as I trudged past, I did notice that the bird-bath in the front garden of number 75 looked a tad strange...i.e. red.....so either they have painted the bird-bath pre-water or the bird-bath is filled with blood! It has to be one or the other, surely?!! Maybe.....that's why Sidney the Snail has suddenly disappeared without trace? Makes you think, eh? Strange goings on.....
I had missed a bus by 4 minutes by the way, so had just the 17 minutes to wait as I mulled this over. Oh! A new local resident appeared...an elderly lady a few doors down, putting out her wheelie bin for collection tomorrow. White haired, slippers on, and one of those 'school cook' type tabard (a double apron with tabs on the shoulders that you slip on....I hope I have the right word), which made me want to ask whether she had the chip pan on, as she seemed the sort of woman who would rustle up sausage, egg and chips at the drop of a hat without even blinking. Or, as we Derbyshire folk say, 'Is chip pan on?' because we often seem to omit the word 'the', (which I think is probably overused anyway, and not that exciting on the Scrabble board either come to think of it).
Only one thing of note whilst waiting for said bus.......a rather nice looking driver of a bus going the other way looked at me and smiled.
18.02 and the bus turned up bang on time. Apologies, but I was too tired to even check out the other passengers this evening, just wanting to get home.
Footnote:
Tomorrow I will be calling the local garage to see if they have a delivery date for the part for my car, and chivvy them along a bit, also I need to ensure that the very second they receive this part they are primed and ready to whip it onto my car. I don't want them to contact me and say the part has arrived and they can fit me in a week on Wednesday. Ohhhhhh, nooooooo!
Here is today's blog post......enjoy!
Late finishing work today, as slightly dishy VIP Professor visiting for a meeting this afternoon with my boss. My twitter friends will know how miffed I was on his last visit when my boss got a kiss and I didn't, (even though I had prepared the most fabulous lunch for him!) Well, it seems that my life in the bus lane is making me bolder (if not balder, through pulling my hair out in exasperation!)....and when he arrived this afternoon, instead of staying behind my impressive reception desk I made sure that I was 'free-range' and so when he greeted me I was loitering with intent and not hidden behind the reception desk barrier and I walked up to him to shake his hand....and he kissed me on both cheeks!! Haha! Finally I have been recognised as a top-class PA and not just somebody hiding behind 4ft of the finest wood!
So....I digress....but basically I had to hang around 'in case of need' (a document, a file, a cup of tea) - like an unspoken agreement between my boss and myself....although she made a point of thanking me twice for staying behind which was very nice. (As if I dared do any different haha!) I know after 7 years what is expected of me!
I locked up and alarmed at 17.25 and wended my weary way down the longer-than-average driveway, and....I know you believe me because not a word of this blog is untrue...I reach the ornate cast iron gates just as the bus I want to catch zooms past. For a moment my heart leaps, as the bus hasn't stopped at my usual bus stop, but has stopped around the corner......could the driver know me, and that I need to get this bus, and stopped just for me? Well of course not. We're not in dreamland here. He'd stopped to drop off a passenger who had more than likely pressed the 'stop' button too late for the driver's mind to engage. (This happened to me a few years back when I was using the bus and I rang the bell but the driver didn't deign to stop for another half a mile and I got off, in the snow, tired and hungry and with my shopping and promptly burst into tears.) So it does happen that occasionally the driver isn't paying attention.
I trudged....yes, trudged, as was tired after 2 busy days at work although hadn't been buggered by any member of the postal service today....to the local Post Office (yes, the one that sells wine) to post something for my boss. Oh, and quite possibly purchase a bottle of something white, chilled and grapey whilst I was there. I feel it is rude not to. I do like to support my local retailer!
Sarah was behind the counter in the shop today, and I haven't seen her for a while and so we got chatting. I ended up regaling my story about why I was without my car, and when I left the shop she said 'I hope the bus comes soon' to which I replied 'Thanks, but hopefully not before I reach the bus stop!'
I reached said bus stop a few minutes later, and noticed for the first time that the vertical blinds in the house next to number 75 had all of their vertically-blinded windows erm....blinded (i.e. blinds all closed). How very odd. The only reason I can now think of is that the bus stops right outside their houses and they are fed up of passengers looking in. I'm thinking nets are possibly a better privacy-enabling alternative to perpetual darkness?
Anyway.....as I trudged past, I did notice that the bird-bath in the front garden of number 75 looked a tad strange...i.e. red.....so either they have painted the bird-bath pre-water or the bird-bath is filled with blood! It has to be one or the other, surely?!! Maybe.....that's why Sidney the Snail has suddenly disappeared without trace? Makes you think, eh? Strange goings on.....
I had missed a bus by 4 minutes by the way, so had just the 17 minutes to wait as I mulled this over. Oh! A new local resident appeared...an elderly lady a few doors down, putting out her wheelie bin for collection tomorrow. White haired, slippers on, and one of those 'school cook' type tabard (a double apron with tabs on the shoulders that you slip on....I hope I have the right word), which made me want to ask whether she had the chip pan on, as she seemed the sort of woman who would rustle up sausage, egg and chips at the drop of a hat without even blinking. Or, as we Derbyshire folk say, 'Is chip pan on?' because we often seem to omit the word 'the', (which I think is probably overused anyway, and not that exciting on the Scrabble board either come to think of it).
Only one thing of note whilst waiting for said bus.......a rather nice looking driver of a bus going the other way looked at me and smiled.
18.02 and the bus turned up bang on time. Apologies, but I was too tired to even check out the other passengers this evening, just wanting to get home.
Footnote:
Tomorrow I will be calling the local garage to see if they have a delivery date for the part for my car, and chivvy them along a bit, also I need to ensure that the very second they receive this part they are primed and ready to whip it onto my car. I don't want them to contact me and say the part has arrived and they can fit me in a week on Wednesday. Ohhhhhh, nooooooo!
Wednesday 10 July 2013
Week 2 - Day 3 - Bus Roulette
Had an extremely busy day at work, as boss clearing out her in-tray and offloading all manner of things onto me from months back to file or deal with. It took me a whole 4 hours to play one game of Chuzzle....that's how busy I was! Outrageous.
Left work today at 4.50pm.....I wanted to finish the 2nd game of Chuzzle - plus it looks good for me that I stayed later, apparently working hard.
I employed different tactics today, hence the Bus Roulette reference, as I decided to not check the timetable or worry about when the buses were due.....very bravely I just 'went for it'. Get me!!
Different schedule for me too this evening, as I didn't go into the local town - instead I walked to the local Post Office (the one that sells wine) - completely unhindered and hence unbuggered by big parcels. My work bag I carried was so light, I almost hovered over the pavement. I hovered slightly higher over the blue thing I spotted which I hope was a burst balloon and not something else. (Do they make them in blue?)
Upon my journey to the Post Office I was woofed at by a boxer dog, who's owners were in the garden with it and I'm sure I heard them tell the dog not to woof at strange ladies, and was passed by a big slow tractor with a stream of cars held up behind it and I must admit I had a slight snigger to myself at the poor car drivers that were being held up. Mean, yes. Acceptable given my circumstances, yes.
I carry out my business at the Post Office, and head for the bus stop - carefully checking every inch of the vertilap fence panels for any sign of Sidney the Snail....sad news I'm afraid....he has definitely gone for good. (Hopefully not gone for food, as somebody has suggested 'Sauted Sidney')
Checking the bus times, I note that it is a mere and barely noticeable these days 11 minutes until the next bus is due. (There's a clue in the word 'due')
House No.75 still has all it's front facing curtains drawn.....although I noticed tonight a few bags of what looks like sand leant up against the side of the house? I'm hoping it *is* sand and not the ashes of several deceased relatives.
A nice surprise for me, as four doors to the right, what looks like Grandma (my apologies to the lady in question if I'm mistaken) and a toddler-sized child in her arms came to their front gate to look for the bus. I know this, because I could hear the lady say to the little person 'Where's the bus? Is it coming?' To which I resisted the urge to shout across the road 'It had bloody well better be - it's 6 minutes late already!' I mean, it wasn't her fault. And, as you know, I've been brought up to be polite and not upset anybody.
A whole six minutes late, and the bus arrives. Not a word of apology from the driver. Amazing! I board and slap £1.30 into the receptacle with a defiant look that said 'That's all you're getting'. My 2nd week taking the bus, and already my personality is changing to that of a regular bus-user.
I take a seat behind a 20-something girl, who's fine, natural blonde hair is scooped up and secured with a hairgrip. I believe in the days of Yore they called them 'Kirbygrips'. You know, the standard brown ones that are wiggly on one side and have always reminded me of ants for some strange reason, possibly due to the bobbly antennae on the ends. Anyway, there her head was, just inches from my face, and I wondered idly what she would do if I pulled that one hairgrip out. Then, I noticed her ears, which were on show due to her fine blonde locks being held up by a hairgrip. Now, I was seriously tempted to flick her right ear, which had a stud in facing the wrong way round. It was so tempting. I felt my fingers flex. Just a quick flick on the back of that earlobe......!
Of course, I resisted, having been brought up to be polite and not flick earlobes on the bus. But boy, was I tempted!
Email to Nissan update : Only my car has this fault, part coming from Japan, and car out of warranty so no gesture of goodwill forthcoming any time soon.
The blog continues then......
Left work today at 4.50pm.....I wanted to finish the 2nd game of Chuzzle - plus it looks good for me that I stayed later, apparently working hard.
I employed different tactics today, hence the Bus Roulette reference, as I decided to not check the timetable or worry about when the buses were due.....very bravely I just 'went for it'. Get me!!
Different schedule for me too this evening, as I didn't go into the local town - instead I walked to the local Post Office (the one that sells wine) - completely unhindered and hence unbuggered by big parcels. My work bag I carried was so light, I almost hovered over the pavement. I hovered slightly higher over the blue thing I spotted which I hope was a burst balloon and not something else. (Do they make them in blue?)
Upon my journey to the Post Office I was woofed at by a boxer dog, who's owners were in the garden with it and I'm sure I heard them tell the dog not to woof at strange ladies, and was passed by a big slow tractor with a stream of cars held up behind it and I must admit I had a slight snigger to myself at the poor car drivers that were being held up. Mean, yes. Acceptable given my circumstances, yes.
I carry out my business at the Post Office, and head for the bus stop - carefully checking every inch of the vertilap fence panels for any sign of Sidney the Snail....sad news I'm afraid....he has definitely gone for good. (Hopefully not gone for food, as somebody has suggested 'Sauted Sidney')
Checking the bus times, I note that it is a mere and barely noticeable these days 11 minutes until the next bus is due. (There's a clue in the word 'due')
House No.75 still has all it's front facing curtains drawn.....although I noticed tonight a few bags of what looks like sand leant up against the side of the house? I'm hoping it *is* sand and not the ashes of several deceased relatives.
A nice surprise for me, as four doors to the right, what looks like Grandma (my apologies to the lady in question if I'm mistaken) and a toddler-sized child in her arms came to their front gate to look for the bus. I know this, because I could hear the lady say to the little person 'Where's the bus? Is it coming?' To which I resisted the urge to shout across the road 'It had bloody well better be - it's 6 minutes late already!' I mean, it wasn't her fault. And, as you know, I've been brought up to be polite and not upset anybody.
A whole six minutes late, and the bus arrives. Not a word of apology from the driver. Amazing! I board and slap £1.30 into the receptacle with a defiant look that said 'That's all you're getting'. My 2nd week taking the bus, and already my personality is changing to that of a regular bus-user.
I take a seat behind a 20-something girl, who's fine, natural blonde hair is scooped up and secured with a hairgrip. I believe in the days of Yore they called them 'Kirbygrips'. You know, the standard brown ones that are wiggly on one side and have always reminded me of ants for some strange reason, possibly due to the bobbly antennae on the ends. Anyway, there her head was, just inches from my face, and I wondered idly what she would do if I pulled that one hairgrip out. Then, I noticed her ears, which were on show due to her fine blonde locks being held up by a hairgrip. Now, I was seriously tempted to flick her right ear, which had a stud in facing the wrong way round. It was so tempting. I felt my fingers flex. Just a quick flick on the back of that earlobe......!
Of course, I resisted, having been brought up to be polite and not flick earlobes on the bus. But boy, was I tempted!
Email to Nissan update : Only my car has this fault, part coming from Japan, and car out of warranty so no gesture of goodwill forthcoming any time soon.
The blog continues then......
Tuesday 9 July 2013
Week 2 - Day 2
Leave work tonight at 16.26, having studiously studied the timetable and realise that there will be a bus at 16.34, hence no huffing and puffing down the not-your-usual-length driveway after work, I figured I'd left myself plenty of time to reach the bus stop across the busy road, with minimal lolloping and grapevining and flapping arms on my part.
I say huffing and puffing, because at around 11am this morning I was well and truly buggered by the parcel delivery lady, who had delivered my Joe Browns order to me at work instead of my home.
'Oh, thanks, yes, that's really kind of you, thank you' I gushed through gritted teeth as I took the 'could have been a lot lighter' parcel from her. You see, I also have this 'nudge nudge wink wink' arrangement with the parcel delivery lady as well as the postman, whom you may recall buggered me last week with 3 big fat ones.
This 'NNWW' arrangement usually suits me well, as it saves them not finding me at home and all that redelivery card through the letterbox nonsense....so I daren't say anything in case these tenuous (and quite possibly not available to anybody else) arrangements are jeopardised.
As you know, I was brought up not to mess people around or inconvenience them.
The bus arrived, 3 minutes late, and from previous experience I had exactly £2.10 in my little hand. I requested a return to the local town, and placed my £2.10 very clearly in the receptacle for the driver to see. He pressed a few buttons. £2.60? He ventured. I stood my ground, and nodded towards the £2.10 as if to say 'that's my final offer matey, and not a penny more.' The driver pressed a few more buttons and arrived at £2.10 himself, and I proudly took my ticket.
Yesssss! Passenger 1, Driver 0. That's NIL to you, robbing bus company ;)
I checked Sidney the Snail's Vertilap for signs of a return, but it was barren. I also checked No.75 (which I omitted to do on the return journey yesterday, please forgive me) and.......all their front-facing curtains are still closed! What do you make of that? Either relatives are dropping like flies, or they are truly a Vampire Family. Next time I'm passing, remind me to chuck a garlic bulb in their front garden, see how they react to that.
This evening's tasks were to post the work mail that didn't get posted last night, plus pay my Council Tax, which I enjoy leaving until the last possible minute so that I can hold onto the cash until the very last second. Then a quick walk up the street, and I dipped into the chemist as my boss wanted me to get her something.....they didn't have it, but whilst I was standing at the counter as the assistant checked, the lady standing right next to me purchased the largest bottle of nit shampoo they had. Now then, I am usually quite subtle, but apparently not so subtle today as I took the hugest step away from her......and.....yes, you guessed it.....she clocked me doing so.
'It's not for me', she proclaimed.
Yes, well, that's what everyone says in the chemist when they're buying something embarrassing, (or so I've been told.)
I wasn't taking any chances, smiled apologetically at the woman and legged it as fast as I could out of the chemists. Before the nits got me. I've got enough problems without bloody nits.
En route to the bus stop is a local store, which does indeed happen to sell wine. It would have been very rude of me to pass by and not call in and purchase some. I did, however, resist buying garlic bread or chips to go with tonight's lasagne.
Arriving at the bus stop, I checked the time on my mobile - 17.01. I checked the next bus time on the punched-in timetable at the bus stop - 17.16. Just the 15 minute wait then. I'd missed a bus by 6 mins.
A man came to the bus stop shortly after me, smartly dressed and with a black rucksack he kept taking on and off his shoulder which I was intrigued to know what was contained within. He had one of those moustaches which you instantly think look false. Anyway, he stood a decent distance from me and didn't try and speak or anything so I leant against the bus shelter and tried to ignore the amount of cars with 3 spare seats in them that zoomed past nonchalantly. Especially ignoring the open-top cars, and definitely not hoping the bald men got sunburn on their solar panels.
The bus, when it arrived, a whole 2 minutes late, was quite full. Well, this didn't surprise me, as there are seemingly more buses into the local small town than out. As in half the number back out. I resisted the urge to sing 'Hotel California' to myself, and changing the words to 'you can go into town any time you like, but you can never leave....' as I would hate to ruin one of my favourite songs.
Busy bus, nobody of any great note to relay to you, maybe except for one guy dressed sportily, who had huge sunglasses on top of his head, trying to hide his expanding solar panel forehead, which didn't have me fooled for a minute.
Now last week, in my excitement, I omitted to mention the house the bus passed with the deep pink Austrian blinds in the front windows, that made me gag slightly. Don't get me wrong - in the 80's I thought they were the bees knees....indeed I had them myself....but in 2013? I spotted them this evening on my journey, but not before I spotted the house just before it, who's deluded and quite obviously colour blind owners have painted their fence and their front door the most incredibly obnoxious and bile-inducing shade of purple you could never imagine. I gagged, right there on the bus, I really did. I thought for a moment the Joe Browns parcel was going to have company in that carrier bag. Nobody should have to unwittingly see that view. Give me the bandy-legged lady in shorts from last week who couldn't stop a pig in a poke any day. That shade of purple should be illegal. 'Makes mental note to look the other way when passing these particular 2 houses'.
Finally, in other news, I have this evening emailed Nissan UK to say how very inconvenient it is for me to have to wait for a part to make my car safe to drive for a whole month. I'm hoping at the very least they will reimburse the therapist fees.
I say huffing and puffing, because at around 11am this morning I was well and truly buggered by the parcel delivery lady, who had delivered my Joe Browns order to me at work instead of my home.
'Oh, thanks, yes, that's really kind of you, thank you' I gushed through gritted teeth as I took the 'could have been a lot lighter' parcel from her. You see, I also have this 'nudge nudge wink wink' arrangement with the parcel delivery lady as well as the postman, whom you may recall buggered me last week with 3 big fat ones.
This 'NNWW' arrangement usually suits me well, as it saves them not finding me at home and all that redelivery card through the letterbox nonsense....so I daren't say anything in case these tenuous (and quite possibly not available to anybody else) arrangements are jeopardised.
As you know, I was brought up not to mess people around or inconvenience them.
The bus arrived, 3 minutes late, and from previous experience I had exactly £2.10 in my little hand. I requested a return to the local town, and placed my £2.10 very clearly in the receptacle for the driver to see. He pressed a few buttons. £2.60? He ventured. I stood my ground, and nodded towards the £2.10 as if to say 'that's my final offer matey, and not a penny more.' The driver pressed a few more buttons and arrived at £2.10 himself, and I proudly took my ticket.
Yesssss! Passenger 1, Driver 0. That's NIL to you, robbing bus company ;)
I checked Sidney the Snail's Vertilap for signs of a return, but it was barren. I also checked No.75 (which I omitted to do on the return journey yesterday, please forgive me) and.......all their front-facing curtains are still closed! What do you make of that? Either relatives are dropping like flies, or they are truly a Vampire Family. Next time I'm passing, remind me to chuck a garlic bulb in their front garden, see how they react to that.
This evening's tasks were to post the work mail that didn't get posted last night, plus pay my Council Tax, which I enjoy leaving until the last possible minute so that I can hold onto the cash until the very last second. Then a quick walk up the street, and I dipped into the chemist as my boss wanted me to get her something.....they didn't have it, but whilst I was standing at the counter as the assistant checked, the lady standing right next to me purchased the largest bottle of nit shampoo they had. Now then, I am usually quite subtle, but apparently not so subtle today as I took the hugest step away from her......and.....yes, you guessed it.....she clocked me doing so.
'It's not for me', she proclaimed.
Yes, well, that's what everyone says in the chemist when they're buying something embarrassing, (or so I've been told.)
I wasn't taking any chances, smiled apologetically at the woman and legged it as fast as I could out of the chemists. Before the nits got me. I've got enough problems without bloody nits.
En route to the bus stop is a local store, which does indeed happen to sell wine. It would have been very rude of me to pass by and not call in and purchase some. I did, however, resist buying garlic bread or chips to go with tonight's lasagne.
Arriving at the bus stop, I checked the time on my mobile - 17.01. I checked the next bus time on the punched-in timetable at the bus stop - 17.16. Just the 15 minute wait then. I'd missed a bus by 6 mins.
A man came to the bus stop shortly after me, smartly dressed and with a black rucksack he kept taking on and off his shoulder which I was intrigued to know what was contained within. He had one of those moustaches which you instantly think look false. Anyway, he stood a decent distance from me and didn't try and speak or anything so I leant against the bus shelter and tried to ignore the amount of cars with 3 spare seats in them that zoomed past nonchalantly. Especially ignoring the open-top cars, and definitely not hoping the bald men got sunburn on their solar panels.
The bus, when it arrived, a whole 2 minutes late, was quite full. Well, this didn't surprise me, as there are seemingly more buses into the local small town than out. As in half the number back out. I resisted the urge to sing 'Hotel California' to myself, and changing the words to 'you can go into town any time you like, but you can never leave....' as I would hate to ruin one of my favourite songs.
Busy bus, nobody of any great note to relay to you, maybe except for one guy dressed sportily, who had huge sunglasses on top of his head, trying to hide his expanding solar panel forehead, which didn't have me fooled for a minute.
Now last week, in my excitement, I omitted to mention the house the bus passed with the deep pink Austrian blinds in the front windows, that made me gag slightly. Don't get me wrong - in the 80's I thought they were the bees knees....indeed I had them myself....but in 2013? I spotted them this evening on my journey, but not before I spotted the house just before it, who's deluded and quite obviously colour blind owners have painted their fence and their front door the most incredibly obnoxious and bile-inducing shade of purple you could never imagine. I gagged, right there on the bus, I really did. I thought for a moment the Joe Browns parcel was going to have company in that carrier bag. Nobody should have to unwittingly see that view. Give me the bandy-legged lady in shorts from last week who couldn't stop a pig in a poke any day. That shade of purple should be illegal. 'Makes mental note to look the other way when passing these particular 2 houses'.
Finally, in other news, I have this evening emailed Nissan UK to say how very inconvenient it is for me to have to wait for a part to make my car safe to drive for a whole month. I'm hoping at the very least they will reimburse the therapist fees.
Monday 8 July 2013
Week 2
Workday for me today, hence Life in the Bus Lane continues........
Left work at 16.20 and got a sense of deja-vu as was waiting to cross the road at the end of the driveway when my favourite blue and orange passenger vehicle came trundling over the brow of the hill.
I wasn't going to be deja-vu'd this Monday, however, and daringly legged it across the road with my hand out all the way across, quite prepared to throw myself in front of the damned thing if necessary. I may have done a sort of sideways skipping movement, like in aerobics (I would have preferred to do 'the grapevine' for presentation points but didn't think I had time for all that fancy footwork). So it was a sideways lollop, with my hand defiantly stretched outwards, right from the other side of the road.
I embarked, and requested a return ticket to the local town, and jiggled the assortment of silver I had in my hand, having not been completely certain of the cost last time.
£3.10, said the burly bus driver. I could feel the eyes of the other passengers boring into me as if to will me to hurry up as I was holding up their journey. But I didn't have enough in my little hand of silver, although I had thought that I had covered every possible computation...i.e. 50p's, 20p's and 10p's.
'Is that right?' Mr Burly asked as I rummaged for my purse to extract more silver.
'No, it's effing well not', I resisted the urge to retort, knowing damn well it wasn't that much previously, and all too aware of the other passengers' glares burning into my very being. Plus, I have, as you are aware, been brought up not to cause arguments or upset others.
I paid, apologising to Mr Burly for not having the correct extortionately overpriced fare to hand, and took a seat, staring straight ahead and not making eye contact with any other passengers. I did glance to the left to see whether Sidney the Snail had returned from his sojourn to the Vertilap fence as we zoomed past - but no sign, so obviously the Retirement Home for Snails is where he now resides. I cursed myself for not checking the Vampire House next door at No.75 though, and vowed to have a look at the curtain situation on the return journey.
Bumping along on the journey, I calculated in my mind that a single costs £1.30, therefore a return should cost no less than £2.60. I'd been robbed. In broad daylight. Hey-ho.....let's just buy this pint of milk for the white sauce for the lasagne and get home. Yes, I know - the most expensive pint of milk in the world.
I arrived at the bus stop and squinted at the timetable between the cracked plastic where an irate passenger had seemingly punched the timetable. I felt a sense of empathy for this poor misguided traveller. Or non-traveller, as it would appear, according to the punched timetable.
A twenty minute wait ensued before the next bus. Now this road was busier than Sidney's street, therefore there was a veritable plethora of vehicles coming past me, standing forlorn but not quite yet broken, at the bus stop. Most of them looked. The gits. And, I discovered this evening, that it's the passengers that look at you more smugly than the drivers. Well of course they would, this makes perfect sense, as they are obviously thinking 'I have a lift, and you don't, ha ha ha ha ha'.
Eventually, here it came...and guess who was driving it? Mr Burly. He didn't even make a tear in my return ticket, obviously realising he had massively overcharged me earlier.
Rustling in my cavernous bag for my house keys, I almost missed Gandalf disembarking a couple of stops later, or I would have asked for his autograph. How did I not see him when I got on the bus? And to think he lives locally!
Looking to my right, I noticed a well-dressed elderly gentleman with a rather ornate walking stick. I resisted the urge to comment that I bet he had a fair few notches on it. Possibly sensing this, he got off at the very next stop.
Work to home - having detoured to purchase one pint of milk for my white sauce - took a mere 41 minutes.
Once home, I rifled through my second-to-none filing system (read 'none') for last week's return ticket and I HAVE BEEN OVERCHARGED BY ONE ENGLISH POUND!!!!
Outrageous! The return cost me £2.10 a week ago.
So beware - learn from my mistakes and 'always' know the correct fare for your journey.
Time to put that £3.78 pint of milk to good use..........:)
Left work at 16.20 and got a sense of deja-vu as was waiting to cross the road at the end of the driveway when my favourite blue and orange passenger vehicle came trundling over the brow of the hill.
I wasn't going to be deja-vu'd this Monday, however, and daringly legged it across the road with my hand out all the way across, quite prepared to throw myself in front of the damned thing if necessary. I may have done a sort of sideways skipping movement, like in aerobics (I would have preferred to do 'the grapevine' for presentation points but didn't think I had time for all that fancy footwork). So it was a sideways lollop, with my hand defiantly stretched outwards, right from the other side of the road.
I embarked, and requested a return ticket to the local town, and jiggled the assortment of silver I had in my hand, having not been completely certain of the cost last time.
£3.10, said the burly bus driver. I could feel the eyes of the other passengers boring into me as if to will me to hurry up as I was holding up their journey. But I didn't have enough in my little hand of silver, although I had thought that I had covered every possible computation...i.e. 50p's, 20p's and 10p's.
'Is that right?' Mr Burly asked as I rummaged for my purse to extract more silver.
'No, it's effing well not', I resisted the urge to retort, knowing damn well it wasn't that much previously, and all too aware of the other passengers' glares burning into my very being. Plus, I have, as you are aware, been brought up not to cause arguments or upset others.
I paid, apologising to Mr Burly for not having the correct extortionately overpriced fare to hand, and took a seat, staring straight ahead and not making eye contact with any other passengers. I did glance to the left to see whether Sidney the Snail had returned from his sojourn to the Vertilap fence as we zoomed past - but no sign, so obviously the Retirement Home for Snails is where he now resides. I cursed myself for not checking the Vampire House next door at No.75 though, and vowed to have a look at the curtain situation on the return journey.
Bumping along on the journey, I calculated in my mind that a single costs £1.30, therefore a return should cost no less than £2.60. I'd been robbed. In broad daylight. Hey-ho.....let's just buy this pint of milk for the white sauce for the lasagne and get home. Yes, I know - the most expensive pint of milk in the world.
I arrived at the bus stop and squinted at the timetable between the cracked plastic where an irate passenger had seemingly punched the timetable. I felt a sense of empathy for this poor misguided traveller. Or non-traveller, as it would appear, according to the punched timetable.
A twenty minute wait ensued before the next bus. Now this road was busier than Sidney's street, therefore there was a veritable plethora of vehicles coming past me, standing forlorn but not quite yet broken, at the bus stop. Most of them looked. The gits. And, I discovered this evening, that it's the passengers that look at you more smugly than the drivers. Well of course they would, this makes perfect sense, as they are obviously thinking 'I have a lift, and you don't, ha ha ha ha ha'.
Eventually, here it came...and guess who was driving it? Mr Burly. He didn't even make a tear in my return ticket, obviously realising he had massively overcharged me earlier.
Rustling in my cavernous bag for my house keys, I almost missed Gandalf disembarking a couple of stops later, or I would have asked for his autograph. How did I not see him when I got on the bus? And to think he lives locally!
Looking to my right, I noticed a well-dressed elderly gentleman with a rather ornate walking stick. I resisted the urge to comment that I bet he had a fair few notches on it. Possibly sensing this, he got off at the very next stop.
Work to home - having detoured to purchase one pint of milk for my white sauce - took a mere 41 minutes.
Once home, I rifled through my second-to-none filing system (read 'none') for last week's return ticket and I HAVE BEEN OVERCHARGED BY ONE ENGLISH POUND!!!!
Outrageous! The return cost me £2.10 a week ago.
So beware - learn from my mistakes and 'always' know the correct fare for your journey.
Time to put that £3.78 pint of milk to good use..........:)
Thursday 4 July 2013
Day 3
So here we are, Day 3 in the bus lane ;)
Got a lift from Des this morning up to work, and the day went very well.
I locked up, alarmed, and left work at 4.30pm - 10 minutes later than yesterday - and trekked to the Post Office to post work mail. I was huffing and puffing a little, thanks to the postman at work totally buggering me this afternoon.
By that, I mean he brought our mail, and then returned minutes later with 3 big fat parcels addressed to me at home, which under normal circumstances (i.e. me having a car) wouldn't have been a problem......and I do like this arrangement we have *usually*......so I smiled and said thank you and took the 3 big fat parcels off him, not daring to jeopardise our recent arrangement which is still being nurtured by saying 'Actually, could you take them to my house as I don't have my car and will have to carry these 3 big fat parcels home'.
One of the downsides of being brought up to be polite and not upset others.
So, today I left work at 4.30pm, with my eye on the 16.59 bus home, and huffed and puffed carrying these parcels to the Post Office to do the work mail. Oh, and did I mention they sell wine? ;) Double oh, and they also sell sausages?
Ignoring the spasms in my lower back, I walked the 5 minutes to the bus stop. Now then.....blog followers.....I believe that my harsh email to the Snail Entertainment Bureau yesterday has led to the removal of Sidney the Snail from the Vertlap fence opposite the bus stop, and his subsequent placement in the local Retirement Home for Snails. I have to admit I missed him and the way he could stay perfectly still for a full 18 minutes. Now that's a skill.
I, however, was hopping from foot to foot with my aching back, and sorely tempted to have a swig of wine as it was a screw-top.....oh.....did I mention I bought one out of politeness from the Post Office?!
Update: the neighbouring house, No.75 (I think, but can't be certain) still has all curtains drawn. I was just crossing myself (although I'm not of that particular religion) when a young man emerged from the front door of said house.
I was quite relieved, I can tell you, that said young male was not wearing a stripy sweater and carrying a sack over his shoulder with the word 'Swag' emblazoned upon it. I have far too much excitement in my life as it is. I watched him intently as he put some rubbish in the wheelie bin down the drive and then nonchalantly walked back into the house. So, my conclusions now are - either somebody *has* died (crosses self again although haven't a clue why) or they are a family of vampires and fear the sunlight. Apart from the young male of course, obviously he was a visitor and not a member of the Vampire Family. I know this or the sun would have scorched his soul and he would have combusted right there on the drive on his way to the wheelie bin and turned into a pile of black dust.
Their neighbours pulled up in their car.....I was quite excited for a moment that they were going to offer me a lift home having seen me standing forlornly at the bus stop with my bags and 3 big fat parcels....but no, they appeared to live there, and a man, woman, and child disembarked from said vehicle. Now, I'm not being catty, as that's not my style....but the woman was wearing shorts and I swear her knees hadn't made contact with each other in quite a while. Bow-legged? She wouldn't have been able to stop a runaway pig.
Obviously I resisted the urge to call across at her and ask 'Hey - bandy one! Has somebody died?' as, I think I mentioned this earlier, I have been brought up to be polite and not upset others.
The bus arrives - incredibly bang on 16.59 - I stick my hand out defiantly as though I mean business if he doesn't deem to stop. He indicates to pull in at the bus stop, so I gather my several bags, including the one with the 3 big fat parcels. (Thanks again, Mr Postman).
The bus is actually quite full, which it isn't usually, as it is usually quite empty. I pay and select a seat, only to realise I am on the Bus of Lost Souls. By this, I mean that if you were to imagine a bus full of lost souls with one empty seat.....that was the bus I got on. And couldn't wait to get off again. Never have I seen such a plethora of life's wastrels (new word? English dictionary people - look that one up whilst you're looking up 'figetingly' from yesterday) and strays. It was like the Bus of the Forgotten.
I avoided eye-contact and stared into the middle distance, pretending I was invisible to my surroundings.
After my stop, I hope the remaining occupants of the bus found their way to where they needed to be.
I have triple-locked all of my doors and windows, for no particular reason.
And I will probably have nightmares tonight about the bus that carries the lost souls......eeeeeek!!!!!
Got a lift from Des this morning up to work, and the day went very well.
I locked up, alarmed, and left work at 4.30pm - 10 minutes later than yesterday - and trekked to the Post Office to post work mail. I was huffing and puffing a little, thanks to the postman at work totally buggering me this afternoon.
By that, I mean he brought our mail, and then returned minutes later with 3 big fat parcels addressed to me at home, which under normal circumstances (i.e. me having a car) wouldn't have been a problem......and I do like this arrangement we have *usually*......so I smiled and said thank you and took the 3 big fat parcels off him, not daring to jeopardise our recent arrangement which is still being nurtured by saying 'Actually, could you take them to my house as I don't have my car and will have to carry these 3 big fat parcels home'.
One of the downsides of being brought up to be polite and not upset others.
So, today I left work at 4.30pm, with my eye on the 16.59 bus home, and huffed and puffed carrying these parcels to the Post Office to do the work mail. Oh, and did I mention they sell wine? ;) Double oh, and they also sell sausages?
Ignoring the spasms in my lower back, I walked the 5 minutes to the bus stop. Now then.....blog followers.....I believe that my harsh email to the Snail Entertainment Bureau yesterday has led to the removal of Sidney the Snail from the Vertlap fence opposite the bus stop, and his subsequent placement in the local Retirement Home for Snails. I have to admit I missed him and the way he could stay perfectly still for a full 18 minutes. Now that's a skill.
I, however, was hopping from foot to foot with my aching back, and sorely tempted to have a swig of wine as it was a screw-top.....oh.....did I mention I bought one out of politeness from the Post Office?!
Update: the neighbouring house, No.75 (I think, but can't be certain) still has all curtains drawn. I was just crossing myself (although I'm not of that particular religion) when a young man emerged from the front door of said house.
I was quite relieved, I can tell you, that said young male was not wearing a stripy sweater and carrying a sack over his shoulder with the word 'Swag' emblazoned upon it. I have far too much excitement in my life as it is. I watched him intently as he put some rubbish in the wheelie bin down the drive and then nonchalantly walked back into the house. So, my conclusions now are - either somebody *has* died (crosses self again although haven't a clue why) or they are a family of vampires and fear the sunlight. Apart from the young male of course, obviously he was a visitor and not a member of the Vampire Family. I know this or the sun would have scorched his soul and he would have combusted right there on the drive on his way to the wheelie bin and turned into a pile of black dust.
Their neighbours pulled up in their car.....I was quite excited for a moment that they were going to offer me a lift home having seen me standing forlornly at the bus stop with my bags and 3 big fat parcels....but no, they appeared to live there, and a man, woman, and child disembarked from said vehicle. Now, I'm not being catty, as that's not my style....but the woman was wearing shorts and I swear her knees hadn't made contact with each other in quite a while. Bow-legged? She wouldn't have been able to stop a runaway pig.
Obviously I resisted the urge to call across at her and ask 'Hey - bandy one! Has somebody died?' as, I think I mentioned this earlier, I have been brought up to be polite and not upset others.
The bus arrives - incredibly bang on 16.59 - I stick my hand out defiantly as though I mean business if he doesn't deem to stop. He indicates to pull in at the bus stop, so I gather my several bags, including the one with the 3 big fat parcels. (Thanks again, Mr Postman).
The bus is actually quite full, which it isn't usually, as it is usually quite empty. I pay and select a seat, only to realise I am on the Bus of Lost Souls. By this, I mean that if you were to imagine a bus full of lost souls with one empty seat.....that was the bus I got on. And couldn't wait to get off again. Never have I seen such a plethora of life's wastrels (new word? English dictionary people - look that one up whilst you're looking up 'figetingly' from yesterday) and strays. It was like the Bus of the Forgotten.
I avoided eye-contact and stared into the middle distance, pretending I was invisible to my surroundings.
After my stop, I hope the remaining occupants of the bus found their way to where they needed to be.
I have triple-locked all of my doors and windows, for no particular reason.
And I will probably have nightmares tonight about the bus that carries the lost souls......eeeeeek!!!!!
Wednesday 3 July 2013
Day 2
Wednesday 3rd July 2013
Different tactics today. Starting with Des's absence from work this morning so I downed a gallon of Diet Coke to give me energy for the uphill walk to work (I don't do uphill very well, which I blame upon certain body proportions - if not all of my body proportions) when Simon, the gardener from work, knocked on my door to remove the broken and dilapidated fence panels in preparation for new ones. Naturally, I cadged a lift up the hill from him. I'm not as daft as I look! He wasn't even heading that way but obliged, bless him.
In all, my journey time today from work to home was a mere 50 minutes. Almost worth a celebratory glass of wine, don't you think? ;) Erm....Cheers!
Because I needed to visit the local Post Office to post work mail, I left work at 4.20pm and walked to the Post Office (less than a mile away) and sorted the mail out. Uncannily, the Post Office is housed inside a general store, which sells wine, so I purchased a token bottle whilst I was there, thinking it would be so rude not to.
I walked to the nearest bus stop.....about 5 minutes away.....checked the time and the timetable, and noted with a degree of disappointment that I'd missed a bus by 5 minutes and the next one was due in 18 minutes. I sighed, and accepted that this would be 18 minutes of my life I would never get back.
Luckily for me, and my interminable wait, I spotted a large snail on the fence of the house across the road, which I decided I could watch, for 18 minutes, and see what it did. I called him Sidney the Snail, and willed him to do something remarkable, like move a millimetre.
The fence in question, for anybody interested in fences, was a 6ft x 3ft Vertilap. Not your common-or-garden Waverley edge (I may well have just invented that name but it sounds right! Although it also sounds like a suburb of Manchester?) And Sidney the Snail had claimed it as his own.
Whilst I was awaiting some kind of signs of life from Sidney, my eyes drifted to the neighbouring house. I believe it may have been No.75, due to the number 75 on the front door, and the 75 on the brickwork. I observed that all of the curtains were closed in all five road-facing windows, which in my book either means that somebody has died, or they are on holiday. If it was due to the former, then my deepest sympathies. If it was due to the latter, then the burglars must love them as it's such a big giveaway and I implore these people to refrain!!!! It's almost like they have put a huge sign on their front door saying 'We Are On Holiday This Week - Help Yourself To Anything Worth Nicking'
Update : Sidney the Snail still hasn't moved, and a young girl I'd say around 12/13 yrs old has joined me at the bus stop, wearing a nice pink hoody which matches the pink on her trainers. I watch as she fidgetingly (new word - make a note please, English dictionary people) shuffles her feet and tidies up bits of tree debris along the kerb and have to bite my tongue to stop myself from saying 'stop that, you'll scuff the toes of your trainers' as my mum would have done and quite probably her own mum too.
We watch a couple wander past walking 5 Labradors between them and smile and say 'Ahh' at each other. We have bonded now, me and this girl-child, purely through the trauma of waiting for a bus. (They weren't really Labradors, they were Shitzu's but I can't spell that!)
18 minutes is a long time when you are stood waiting for something. I began to imagine that if I were on a plane, I could be over a third of the way to France in 18 minutes. I imagined how else I could happily spend 18 minutes but that imagery is censored for your own good. (You really don't need those images).
I'll tell you something though - Sidney the Snail did bugger all in 18 minutes! What an incredibly lazy snail. I'm tempted to report him to the Snail Entertainment Bureau for not being entertaining enough. I'm now doubting whether he actually deserved his esteemed position on the Vertilap.
Good news!!! The bus arrives bang on time, and I have the ticket to prove it, and when I disembarked at my stop the young girl said 'bye' to me and I know that I have bonded with the youth of today, and am hip and savvy and all of that!
And I sincerely hope that Sidney enjoys his retirement, bless his little shell.
Different tactics today. Starting with Des's absence from work this morning so I downed a gallon of Diet Coke to give me energy for the uphill walk to work (I don't do uphill very well, which I blame upon certain body proportions - if not all of my body proportions) when Simon, the gardener from work, knocked on my door to remove the broken and dilapidated fence panels in preparation for new ones. Naturally, I cadged a lift up the hill from him. I'm not as daft as I look! He wasn't even heading that way but obliged, bless him.
In all, my journey time today from work to home was a mere 50 minutes. Almost worth a celebratory glass of wine, don't you think? ;) Erm....Cheers!
Because I needed to visit the local Post Office to post work mail, I left work at 4.20pm and walked to the Post Office (less than a mile away) and sorted the mail out. Uncannily, the Post Office is housed inside a general store, which sells wine, so I purchased a token bottle whilst I was there, thinking it would be so rude not to.
I walked to the nearest bus stop.....about 5 minutes away.....checked the time and the timetable, and noted with a degree of disappointment that I'd missed a bus by 5 minutes and the next one was due in 18 minutes. I sighed, and accepted that this would be 18 minutes of my life I would never get back.
Luckily for me, and my interminable wait, I spotted a large snail on the fence of the house across the road, which I decided I could watch, for 18 minutes, and see what it did. I called him Sidney the Snail, and willed him to do something remarkable, like move a millimetre.
The fence in question, for anybody interested in fences, was a 6ft x 3ft Vertilap. Not your common-or-garden Waverley edge (I may well have just invented that name but it sounds right! Although it also sounds like a suburb of Manchester?) And Sidney the Snail had claimed it as his own.
Whilst I was awaiting some kind of signs of life from Sidney, my eyes drifted to the neighbouring house. I believe it may have been No.75, due to the number 75 on the front door, and the 75 on the brickwork. I observed that all of the curtains were closed in all five road-facing windows, which in my book either means that somebody has died, or they are on holiday. If it was due to the former, then my deepest sympathies. If it was due to the latter, then the burglars must love them as it's such a big giveaway and I implore these people to refrain!!!! It's almost like they have put a huge sign on their front door saying 'We Are On Holiday This Week - Help Yourself To Anything Worth Nicking'
Update : Sidney the Snail still hasn't moved, and a young girl I'd say around 12/13 yrs old has joined me at the bus stop, wearing a nice pink hoody which matches the pink on her trainers. I watch as she fidgetingly (new word - make a note please, English dictionary people) shuffles her feet and tidies up bits of tree debris along the kerb and have to bite my tongue to stop myself from saying 'stop that, you'll scuff the toes of your trainers' as my mum would have done and quite probably her own mum too.
We watch a couple wander past walking 5 Labradors between them and smile and say 'Ahh' at each other. We have bonded now, me and this girl-child, purely through the trauma of waiting for a bus. (They weren't really Labradors, they were Shitzu's but I can't spell that!)
18 minutes is a long time when you are stood waiting for something. I began to imagine that if I were on a plane, I could be over a third of the way to France in 18 minutes. I imagined how else I could happily spend 18 minutes but that imagery is censored for your own good. (You really don't need those images).
I'll tell you something though - Sidney the Snail did bugger all in 18 minutes! What an incredibly lazy snail. I'm tempted to report him to the Snail Entertainment Bureau for not being entertaining enough. I'm now doubting whether he actually deserved his esteemed position on the Vertilap.
Good news!!! The bus arrives bang on time, and I have the ticket to prove it, and when I disembarked at my stop the young girl said 'bye' to me and I know that I have bonded with the youth of today, and am hip and savvy and all of that!
And I sincerely hope that Sidney enjoys his retirement, bless his little shell.
Tuesday 2 July 2013
Welcome to the bus lane!
July 2nd. Day 1 of Life in the Bus Lane.
It all started this evening, as I am fortunate enough to get a lift to work in the mornings (thanks, Des, you're a star, even though you come right past my house anyway).
I leave work at 4.30pm, lock up and alarm, and just as I reach the bottom of the (not your average) driveway and through the ornate cast iron gates the bus appears.
Not just 'any' bus.
'My' bus. That is - the bus I was hoping to plonk my backside on one of the seats contained therein. ( I don't actually own a bus, you understand, that would just be plain ridiculousness.)
To add insult to injury, I need to actually wait for the bus to pass before I can cross the road to the bus-stop. I could, of course, have thrown myself in it's path. I didn't - but I may yet, it's early days.
So, I peer at the timetable and see that the next bus is due (the one I'd just missed was the 16.34) at 16.47. Ok, I muse, only 13 minutes to wait, that will soon pass. Ho, hum.
Then it starts to rain. Big, fat, cold sploshes of rain. Not the sort of refreshing sprinkle you would normally associate with a shower in July, but evilly icy drops. I take a deep breath and try not to let it bother me. It's only water after all. I'll dry.
I try to ignore the smug car-drivers who zoom past me (whom I'm convinced are secretly laughing at me, standing there with no umbrella, waiting for the bus). I try to ignore the fact that I do actually possess several umbrella's, one of which is in my car - you know, the car that is parked on my driveway less than a mile away which I have deemed too dangerous to drive.
I have a thumping headache and am keeping a wary eye on the bees buzzing menacingly in the hedge next to me, although I stand my ground, not willing to move away from the sacred bus stop.
I vow never again to say to myself when passing a bus stop with waiting passengers 'Blimey, they look miserable', because now I realise why, and can empathise wholeheartedly.
The 16.47 decides not to arrive at 16.47. Or 16.48, 16.49, 16.50, 16.51, 16.52, 16.53 or 16.54.
After muttering 'Come on, bus-face' countless times - out loud - I'm past caring if the smug car-drivers can see my lips moving - it trundles up like it has all the time in the world and I stick my hand out defiantly.
I board, resisting the urge to ask whether the driver is 8 minutes late, or 4 minutes early (next bus due at 16.59) and purchase a return ticket, as it is a definite that I do want to return, and as soon as possible please.
Two stops later, a couple and two young girls - (I'd say both under 5yrs old) board and the first thing the mother does is screech 'Sit down!" at them so loudly that it makes me shudder. Ignoring their mother, (quite understandably in my opinion) the girls go and sit on the back seat with, presumably, their father (not my business), whereupon for the rest of the ten minute journey they proceed to squeal constantly as if possessed. I massage my temples and remain calm.
Having completed my tasks, i.e. pay a deposit for the unbelievably-out-of-stock part for my car at the garage and nip to Tesco for my boss's prescription and a few essentials (wine) for myself, plus a brolly as it is throwing it down and I am drenched and like a drowned rat, I head for the bus terminus only to realise that carrying 3 heavy bags does not enable one to also use an umbrella, which remains in one of the 3 bags mocking me as I get soaked once more.
A couple of young teenage girls quite amuse me at the bus terminus, playing around and constantly giggling and I'm tempted to ask them what they are on, and can I please have some.
Our bus eventually turned up, and we embarked. My relief at the thought of going home was short-lived however when the driver got off the bus to have a cigarette and play on her mobile.
I smiled to myself, although an onlooker would probably think I was on sedation. Which I may well be by the end of this month. Whilst the driver was enjoying her cigarette, a man who had got on the bus with his partner decided he possibly had an audience in me (I have one of those faces - everybody talks to me). He held up a heavy-looking shopping bag through which I could see cans of Chappie and informed me there was 54lb of dog food in that there bag. I don't like to be rude to complete and utter strangers when I'm feeling damp and tired and totally fed up, so I dutifully raised my eyebrows and said 'Really? Oh, goodness!'
The driver deigned to grace us once more with her presence (quite slim, pretty face - quite surprisingly large bottom) and we set off, and for the whole journey this guy kept looking at me and smiling. Of course, I stared out of the window and ignored him. He'd had enough of my time and energy, thank you.
I disembarked and walked to my house, to be totally amazed that that little adventure had taken an hour and a half. I arrived home at 6.05pm.
Amazing how fast time flies when you're having fun........
It all started this evening, as I am fortunate enough to get a lift to work in the mornings (thanks, Des, you're a star, even though you come right past my house anyway).
I leave work at 4.30pm, lock up and alarm, and just as I reach the bottom of the (not your average) driveway and through the ornate cast iron gates the bus appears.
Not just 'any' bus.
'My' bus. That is - the bus I was hoping to plonk my backside on one of the seats contained therein. ( I don't actually own a bus, you understand, that would just be plain ridiculousness.)
To add insult to injury, I need to actually wait for the bus to pass before I can cross the road to the bus-stop. I could, of course, have thrown myself in it's path. I didn't - but I may yet, it's early days.
So, I peer at the timetable and see that the next bus is due (the one I'd just missed was the 16.34) at 16.47. Ok, I muse, only 13 minutes to wait, that will soon pass. Ho, hum.
Then it starts to rain. Big, fat, cold sploshes of rain. Not the sort of refreshing sprinkle you would normally associate with a shower in July, but evilly icy drops. I take a deep breath and try not to let it bother me. It's only water after all. I'll dry.
I try to ignore the smug car-drivers who zoom past me (whom I'm convinced are secretly laughing at me, standing there with no umbrella, waiting for the bus). I try to ignore the fact that I do actually possess several umbrella's, one of which is in my car - you know, the car that is parked on my driveway less than a mile away which I have deemed too dangerous to drive.
I have a thumping headache and am keeping a wary eye on the bees buzzing menacingly in the hedge next to me, although I stand my ground, not willing to move away from the sacred bus stop.
I vow never again to say to myself when passing a bus stop with waiting passengers 'Blimey, they look miserable', because now I realise why, and can empathise wholeheartedly.
The 16.47 decides not to arrive at 16.47. Or 16.48, 16.49, 16.50, 16.51, 16.52, 16.53 or 16.54.
After muttering 'Come on, bus-face' countless times - out loud - I'm past caring if the smug car-drivers can see my lips moving - it trundles up like it has all the time in the world and I stick my hand out defiantly.
I board, resisting the urge to ask whether the driver is 8 minutes late, or 4 minutes early (next bus due at 16.59) and purchase a return ticket, as it is a definite that I do want to return, and as soon as possible please.
Two stops later, a couple and two young girls - (I'd say both under 5yrs old) board and the first thing the mother does is screech 'Sit down!" at them so loudly that it makes me shudder. Ignoring their mother, (quite understandably in my opinion) the girls go and sit on the back seat with, presumably, their father (not my business), whereupon for the rest of the ten minute journey they proceed to squeal constantly as if possessed. I massage my temples and remain calm.
Having completed my tasks, i.e. pay a deposit for the unbelievably-out-of-stock part for my car at the garage and nip to Tesco for my boss's prescription and a few essentials (wine) for myself, plus a brolly as it is throwing it down and I am drenched and like a drowned rat, I head for the bus terminus only to realise that carrying 3 heavy bags does not enable one to also use an umbrella, which remains in one of the 3 bags mocking me as I get soaked once more.
A couple of young teenage girls quite amuse me at the bus terminus, playing around and constantly giggling and I'm tempted to ask them what they are on, and can I please have some.
Our bus eventually turned up, and we embarked. My relief at the thought of going home was short-lived however when the driver got off the bus to have a cigarette and play on her mobile.
I smiled to myself, although an onlooker would probably think I was on sedation. Which I may well be by the end of this month. Whilst the driver was enjoying her cigarette, a man who had got on the bus with his partner decided he possibly had an audience in me (I have one of those faces - everybody talks to me). He held up a heavy-looking shopping bag through which I could see cans of Chappie and informed me there was 54lb of dog food in that there bag. I don't like to be rude to complete and utter strangers when I'm feeling damp and tired and totally fed up, so I dutifully raised my eyebrows and said 'Really? Oh, goodness!'
The driver deigned to grace us once more with her presence (quite slim, pretty face - quite surprisingly large bottom) and we set off, and for the whole journey this guy kept looking at me and smiling. Of course, I stared out of the window and ignored him. He'd had enough of my time and energy, thank you.
I disembarked and walked to my house, to be totally amazed that that little adventure had taken an hour and a half. I arrived home at 6.05pm.
Amazing how fast time flies when you're having fun........
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