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........