Get off the bus, missus (2)

I’ve been ‘commuting’* for about six months now since our department moved into town next to the station. Twenty minute bus ride to the High Street and a 10 minute walk or a 30 minute bus ride all the way there.

Who’d have thought such a short, local journey could be eventful? First there was “Get off the bus, missus”.  And here is the sequel. As usual, freshly hatched but, to keep things lively, a different bus company.

So I caught the bus to the station this morning. Sat upstairs, all cosy at the back. Busying myself on my ipad.

“HELLO! HELLO! Everyone on the bus! Hello, this the driver!”

Silence.

HELLO! This is the driver speaking to everyone on the bus!”

Silence. Way too awkward to shout back “Hello”. Shudder.

“I’m running very late so those of you who plan to go to the station, it would be great if you could get off on the High Street and catch the next bus.”

Eh? What?

Two minutes later the bus juddered to a halt at the bottom of the High Street.

“HELLO. ARE YOU LISTENING TO ME? THIS IS THE DRIVER. GET OFF THE BUS. EVERYONE. OFF THE BUS NOW.”

Cripes. We all shuffled towards the staircase.

“GET.OFF.THE. BUS!”

“No. I won’t”, I said, jokingly to the people queuing up next to me.

Silence.

* Not sure if it counts as a commute when it’s about a 5 mile journey, but it’s a bus ride instead of walking.

A dose of hot face

Phewwy. I had a right old dose of hot face at work the other day. It was so bad I nearly went home SICK. Yep, sick from hot face.  Crazy really. What happened was, I woke up, peeked out the window, saw the grey and rain and jumped from Summer to Winter in my mind.  This meant I put on a thick woolly jumper and a scraggy old thermal top. Continue reading