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?!!
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