The Ladyfriend took the family car this morning so it was down to public transport for me to get to work. I have not had to use this means of transport for a very long time and I am amazed at just how public it has become.
I was rather late for the timetabled time so I scooted out of the door with very little glamour. I was hoping to waltz down the street with a similar gate to that of Cagney & Lacey in the titles of their hit crime show - no such luck, I looked more like a desperate Nerys Hughes. On reaching the bus stop a rather portly girl was there (wearing slimming black) with rathere severe hair. I thought people weren't supposed to talk on these occasions but she mumbled on about the bus not turning up.
Fifteen minutes had gone by and I was thinking that it was a bit of a rum do when a severely depressed looking housewife came along. She didn't look a stranger to using the bus on a regular basis but I didn't fancy asking her if she knew what time it was due. Her hair was rather long and straw like and her face was worn with too much exposure to ciggies, the stress of a teenage tearaway and Coronation Street.
She had the cough of a coal miner. She stood behind me, doped up to the eyeballs with trannies,breathing with the last remnants of her lung.
The bus arrived, thankfully, I could feel her eyes burning into the back of my head and the air of B&H leaching into my clothes. The big girl got on first and the bus driver waved her on, ooh I thought, perhaps we are getting a free ride because of the bus being late. He carried on waving as I got onboard, I walked joyfully to my itchy seat when he shouted "oi!" Oh I was so humiliated, he hadn't meant me to get on for free at all. The fat bird had a bus pass.
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