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.

Different spaces

I got thinking about space today, after another bizarre lift journey where I stood next to a random stranger for two floors up to the office and then left that space without saying a word.

LB has made me think about spaces differently.  He uses space in a way that is out of the ordinary. He uses spaces that other people don’t use. I remember one time when he was a toddler, he disappeared in his bedroom.  I had a few heart-stopping minutes before finding him fast asleep on the second shelf of a Billy bookshelf.

Later, when he started school, he’d come home and climb in the swing bin if it was empty. He’d want the lid on and would stay, tucked up, till tea time.  We sort of got used to it though I sometimes worried that someone would turn up unexpectedly and wonder what the fuck was going on. Continue reading