So many characters rub shoulders as they hurtle along the bumpy scenic route on the way from Maroubra into the City on M10 bus
Young and old from all walks of life.
Occasionally, there is one who stands out from the rest !
The bus pulled into the stop at Central and vomited the bulk of its passengers out onto the pavement to be lost in the orderly muddle of pedestrians.
Suddenly quiet, there seemed a lull in the shuffle of new passengers boarding and a short, chubby little Asian lady clambered the steps and pulled a basket on wheels loaded with shopping bags, behind her up the steps.
Her round pink face beamed beneath a broad pink cowboy hat which matched her pink duster coat and went nicely with the baggy cream trousers she stepped on as she walked.
She paused in the walkway and looked around; eyeing the occupants of the 'three aside' sideways facing seats that conveniently folded up for pushchairs, wheelchairs and the like.
Two people sat on either side, a folded seat between them. Eventually, she turned to a young Asian student sitting on one side and promptly began battering him around the head and shoulders and screaming at him in some unintelligible dialect!
He shot up from his seat as if stung and chanting 'sorry, sorry', like a mantra; squeezed himself between the two girls sitting on the other side.
The lady in pink, nodded contentedly to herself and carefully strapped her shopping trolley to the seat now vacated, with the safety belt intended for wheelchairs.
She then turned beaming to another passenger further back and calling to her, went to join her. Her basket on wheels now had two seats to itself and the young student was by now, very engrossed in a text book and sporting very pink ears!!
During this whole charade the bus had been rendered silent. Totally awed by the proceedings!!
A lot of us were grinning widely and exchanging amused glances
The lady in pink and her friend then proceeded to carry out a loud conversation that none of us could understand, punctuated by great bursts of laughter and exclamations!
After about 10 minutes, during which time we had all settled down to our own various distractions; the Asian student extracted a bottle of clear soda from his bag. Balancing his book under his chin, he proceeded to twist open the cap, whereupon the fizzy contents decided to spurt forth like a mini geyser, adding to his misery and wetting him and his fellow passengers either side of him!!
They were both very good about it, both young girls; they saw the funny side and patted neatly at their sticky and damp, spotted legs and exchanged a tissue quite cheerfully as he offered profuse apologies and the two raucous ladies (both in pink I later discovered), let loose with even louder laughter and wickedly sang 'Happy Birthday' to the boy's impromptu celebratory scene at the top of their voices!
The boy student changed his mind about the soda, re-tightened the cap without further mishap and returned to the safety of his uneventful text book.
To give him his due, he didn't blush; nor die of embarrassment and, in fact, seemed quite unperturbed about the whole scene; even managing to alight from the bus at Kensington without seeming the least self conscious.....
I watched him saunter away to be swallowed by the throng of students from the UNSW - and suspected brain damage from his recent battering!
Thursday, October 18, 2012
Thursday, October 4, 2012
To Baldly Go.....
I have wanted to grow my hair again since two years ago, when the hairdresser told me it was too long for my age and heartlessly snipped it all off!
I'd always had long hair (apart from a brief and ridiculous buzz cut when I joined the Military Police in my rather confused youth)
But in the last few years, I'd had it trimmed almost weekly, by degrees, as I worried that my long golden tresses would be construed as 'mutton dressed as lamb' and so, this more drastic cut two years ago, was to be the final chop - something short and funky but stylish.....
I emerged resembling a rather butch lesbian, with an inch of hair and a shaved neck!
Close to tears, I adopted a 'don't F*** with me' face in keeping with the style, while I strode out of the shopping mall and dashed home to lock myself away for the next few months, until it grew to an acceptable length.
However, being a resilient type of person, I resolved to change persona before I found myself chatted up by the leather and chain brigade and slipped into the chemist to buy my first ever blonde hair dye.
And so, my half dark/ half blonde style was born and has been nurtured ever since. (Though I seem to remember that the first effort was more 'yellow' than blonde!)
Every time it grows a few inches, I vow to re-grow it and then I take the scissors to snip off an invading lock and end up with it short again!
Having just resolved myself to my latest shorn look, I was more than a little pleased to board the bus one morning and note that the aging lady driver was almost bald!
Her hair was shaved close to the skull apart from a short, blue mohican on the top and a rather interesting tattoo of a butterfly in chains adorned the side of her head!
Heavy of build, she wore a black leather waistcoat under her neon bus jacket, and her ears were weighted with several piercings.
I noticed the tail of another tattoo escaping from her sleeve and the word 'HOPE' on her knuckles.
As i fed my ticket to the ever hungry machine I smiled and told her 'Great hair'......
She grinned - and I swung into the front seat with a smile.
During the bus journey, she often looked my way in the mirror and one time sent me a crooked smile. I hoped she didn't want to chat, as some of them do; I guess some drivers get bored on the route all day, but I never know what to talk about!
In due course we reached my destination and I prepared to alight; standing by the driver's cabin and smiling a polite thank you. She returned the smile - and then winked lasciviously at me!
Taken aback, I hopped off the bus with no backward glance and hurried on, resolutely vowing to try harder in the future, to grow my hair and look less butch!!
I'd always had long hair (apart from a brief and ridiculous buzz cut when I joined the Military Police in my rather confused youth)
But in the last few years, I'd had it trimmed almost weekly, by degrees, as I worried that my long golden tresses would be construed as 'mutton dressed as lamb' and so, this more drastic cut two years ago, was to be the final chop - something short and funky but stylish.....
I emerged resembling a rather butch lesbian, with an inch of hair and a shaved neck!
Close to tears, I adopted a 'don't F*** with me' face in keeping with the style, while I strode out of the shopping mall and dashed home to lock myself away for the next few months, until it grew to an acceptable length.
However, being a resilient type of person, I resolved to change persona before I found myself chatted up by the leather and chain brigade and slipped into the chemist to buy my first ever blonde hair dye.
And so, my half dark/ half blonde style was born and has been nurtured ever since. (Though I seem to remember that the first effort was more 'yellow' than blonde!)
Every time it grows a few inches, I vow to re-grow it and then I take the scissors to snip off an invading lock and end up with it short again!
Having just resolved myself to my latest shorn look, I was more than a little pleased to board the bus one morning and note that the aging lady driver was almost bald!
Her hair was shaved close to the skull apart from a short, blue mohican on the top and a rather interesting tattoo of a butterfly in chains adorned the side of her head!
Heavy of build, she wore a black leather waistcoat under her neon bus jacket, and her ears were weighted with several piercings.
I noticed the tail of another tattoo escaping from her sleeve and the word 'HOPE' on her knuckles.
As i fed my ticket to the ever hungry machine I smiled and told her 'Great hair'......
She grinned - and I swung into the front seat with a smile.
During the bus journey, she often looked my way in the mirror and one time sent me a crooked smile. I hoped she didn't want to chat, as some of them do; I guess some drivers get bored on the route all day, but I never know what to talk about!
In due course we reached my destination and I prepared to alight; standing by the driver's cabin and smiling a polite thank you. She returned the smile - and then winked lasciviously at me!
Taken aback, I hopped off the bus with no backward glance and hurried on, resolutely vowing to try harder in the future, to grow my hair and look less butch!!
Thursday, August 30, 2012
A Touch of Spring
Spring is definitely in the air!
A certain woman boards the bus from time to time. She is probably in her 50's, of Greek or Chilean appearance with dark hair cut into a bob and framing even, chubby features. Her figure is short, and dumpy and she always wears dark colours.
Her glasses are thickly rimmed in black and she peers accusingly at me with large dark eyes, if I happen to be sitting on the front seat.
This morning, she beat me to it; bustling to board the bus before me and guarding the front seat with her handbag while she eagerly fed her ticket to the machine.
Her effusive greeting of the driver made it all only too clear as to why she was so determined in her haste to secure her position.
The driver was her personal destination!
I've seen him often on our route.
Possibly Indonesian, he always has a ready smile and is most gentlemanly in his treatment of everyone. Almost bowing in his readiness to greet us as we board, inquiring as to our health and waving passionately as we leave; wishing us 'a good day'!
I returned the smile of welcome from the driver and sat a little behind the woman and to one side so that I could see her. I was curious as to her motives on this particular ride and they soon became obvious!
She hitched herself up into the coveted front seat and sat down heavily, bustling to tuck her coat beneath her and propping her handbag on her lap.
She then hitched her skirt up a little, displaying chubby knees and gazed rapturously at the driver in his mirror.
He smiled back at her, noting only, I think, that it was safe to move off and that she wouldn't topple into the aisle.
There then followed a sort of 'one sided courtship', whereby she continued to gaze in adoration and he politely acknowledged her attentions as people shuffled sleepily, on and off the bus.
She fidgeted in her seat a little and fluttered her magnified lashes at him behind her heavy rimmed glasses and he instantly took an increased interest in the busy road ahead.
This display continued for the length of her journey into the city. She occasionally stretched out a leg and uttered a little cough, then fluttered the lashes again and drew the leg back to join its mirror image and all the time ensuring there was a little extra flesh on show than was absolutely necessary.
By now, our driver had ceased to smile and was studiously staring at the traffic ahead and trying hard not to catch her eye in the mirror!
By the time we reached Elizabeth street and her destination, he was positively shrinking in his seat!
She slid as gracefully as possible from the raised seat, paused beside him as she made to get off and pressed something into his hand. He bobbed his head and uttered his usual 'have a nice day' with a smile fixed to his round face.
I'm certain the doors closed behind her a little too smartly!
As we pulled away, I saw him glance at the small piece of paper in his hand. A single line that looked like a telephone number stared hopefully back at him. A look of horror flitted, unchecked, across his face!
He sighed heavily and shook his head slowly as the bus staggered back into the chaos of city traffic and once more became part of the constant ebb and flow of commuters.
Somewhere in the city, there is a small, dark haired woman whose step is lighter and more hopeful!
Somewhere in the city is a certain bus driver who had a narrow escape!!
A certain woman boards the bus from time to time. She is probably in her 50's, of Greek or Chilean appearance with dark hair cut into a bob and framing even, chubby features. Her figure is short, and dumpy and she always wears dark colours.
Her glasses are thickly rimmed in black and she peers accusingly at me with large dark eyes, if I happen to be sitting on the front seat.
This morning, she beat me to it; bustling to board the bus before me and guarding the front seat with her handbag while she eagerly fed her ticket to the machine.
Her effusive greeting of the driver made it all only too clear as to why she was so determined in her haste to secure her position.
The driver was her personal destination!
I've seen him often on our route.
Possibly Indonesian, he always has a ready smile and is most gentlemanly in his treatment of everyone. Almost bowing in his readiness to greet us as we board, inquiring as to our health and waving passionately as we leave; wishing us 'a good day'!
I returned the smile of welcome from the driver and sat a little behind the woman and to one side so that I could see her. I was curious as to her motives on this particular ride and they soon became obvious!
She hitched herself up into the coveted front seat and sat down heavily, bustling to tuck her coat beneath her and propping her handbag on her lap.
She then hitched her skirt up a little, displaying chubby knees and gazed rapturously at the driver in his mirror.
He smiled back at her, noting only, I think, that it was safe to move off and that she wouldn't topple into the aisle.
There then followed a sort of 'one sided courtship', whereby she continued to gaze in adoration and he politely acknowledged her attentions as people shuffled sleepily, on and off the bus.
She fidgeted in her seat a little and fluttered her magnified lashes at him behind her heavy rimmed glasses and he instantly took an increased interest in the busy road ahead.
This display continued for the length of her journey into the city. She occasionally stretched out a leg and uttered a little cough, then fluttered the lashes again and drew the leg back to join its mirror image and all the time ensuring there was a little extra flesh on show than was absolutely necessary.
By now, our driver had ceased to smile and was studiously staring at the traffic ahead and trying hard not to catch her eye in the mirror!
By the time we reached Elizabeth street and her destination, he was positively shrinking in his seat!
She slid as gracefully as possible from the raised seat, paused beside him as she made to get off and pressed something into his hand. He bobbed his head and uttered his usual 'have a nice day' with a smile fixed to his round face.
I'm certain the doors closed behind her a little too smartly!
As we pulled away, I saw him glance at the small piece of paper in his hand. A single line that looked like a telephone number stared hopefully back at him. A look of horror flitted, unchecked, across his face!
He sighed heavily and shook his head slowly as the bus staggered back into the chaos of city traffic and once more became part of the constant ebb and flow of commuters.
Somewhere in the city, there is a small, dark haired woman whose step is lighter and more hopeful!
Somewhere in the city is a certain bus driver who had a narrow escape!!
Wednesday, August 8, 2012
Bruce's Close Encounter
Two hours after to getting to work and I'm still smiling to myself.
It all started around 7am when I was walking from the car park to the bus stop on my way to work this morning.
Who should be walking in front of me, back to his bus, but "Bruce Willis'!
He really is a huge guy; well over six feet tall, big boned and well muscled, he walks with the swagger of a tough man and is very 'Australian' in his shorts and ever present Akubra hat!
He folded himself into the cabin of the bus and almost immediately started the motor and pulled forward to the stop to allow the passengers on.
I was afforded a curt, 'Good Morning' in recognition of being a regular commuter, as I swiped my ticket and I took my usual place on the single front seat.
The journey into the city was pretty uneventful. People got off. People got on. We stopped at lights and no cyclists held us up and risked their possible annihalation.
Nothing happened to provoke him!
So far.
As the bus entered the outskirts of the city, a middle aged man, thin of build with white hair in a short, quirky style, dressed in tight fitting, black skinny jeans and a short black jacket over a black polo neck, eased forward to the front of the bus until he was positioned in the 'no standing area' and, leaning into the cabin, he started talking to Bruce in a low voice.
Bruce was answering him quietly and being surprisingly polite and I could see Bruce glancing briefly in my direction a time or two and I wondered why. I couldn't hear what was being said but I simply imagined the passenger was asking directions or bus times.
As we entered the city, the bus pulled in to a stop and the man got off with a polite 'goodbye', and waved back at Bruce as we pulled away.
He kept looking back at Bruce as we waited at traffic lights and eventually we drove away from the area.
I then presumed they knew each other.
Not so....
At the next set of lights, Bruce turned fully in his seat to look at me and to my surprise began to speak to me. 'I'm glad you sat there' he said with the hint of a smile. I was stunned!
He went on to explain: "That man who got off, he's very nice and all that but he always tries to chat me up!" he rolled his eyes and I realised I had stopped breathing!
"I'm glad you didn't get off before, or he would have sat there and kept trying!"
Well, can you imagine? I remembered to breathe and a grin split my face from ear to ear and I burst out laughing !
This huge bus driver with the temperment of a bull, had been propositioned by a gay man! I was so surprised that anyone would be that brave or crazy as to even think of propositioning him and still get away in one piece, and so amused. I couldn't keep the smile off my face and at the next lights, he turned to me again and said,
"I work out - ( I'd noticed that) ' -And I look after myself and I'm only 40 and the only ones who take interest are men!"
He grinned then and drove on. I felt like saying ' Well, if i were 20 years younger' ... just to cheer him up!
But he went on to tell me that his wife would get a laugh from it, so I felt better for him.
I was all the time actually quite taken aback that he was talking to me!
When it came to my stop I paused before getting off and asked with a smile: "Is it safe to leave you alone now?"
He grinned and leaned forward and replied " Yes, I hope so. Thanks for saving me!" And he actually laughed!!
As he pulled away, I saw someone inside the bus waving; not at me but at him and obviously calling out something.....
When he'd stopped to let me off, Bruce hadn't opened the back doors - and he had driven off without letting another passenger off!
He still kept going to the next stop with his 'prisoner'...............!
It all started around 7am when I was walking from the car park to the bus stop on my way to work this morning.
Who should be walking in front of me, back to his bus, but "Bruce Willis'!
He really is a huge guy; well over six feet tall, big boned and well muscled, he walks with the swagger of a tough man and is very 'Australian' in his shorts and ever present Akubra hat!
He folded himself into the cabin of the bus and almost immediately started the motor and pulled forward to the stop to allow the passengers on.
I was afforded a curt, 'Good Morning' in recognition of being a regular commuter, as I swiped my ticket and I took my usual place on the single front seat.
The journey into the city was pretty uneventful. People got off. People got on. We stopped at lights and no cyclists held us up and risked their possible annihalation.
Nothing happened to provoke him!
So far.
As the bus entered the outskirts of the city, a middle aged man, thin of build with white hair in a short, quirky style, dressed in tight fitting, black skinny jeans and a short black jacket over a black polo neck, eased forward to the front of the bus until he was positioned in the 'no standing area' and, leaning into the cabin, he started talking to Bruce in a low voice.
Bruce was answering him quietly and being surprisingly polite and I could see Bruce glancing briefly in my direction a time or two and I wondered why. I couldn't hear what was being said but I simply imagined the passenger was asking directions or bus times.
As we entered the city, the bus pulled in to a stop and the man got off with a polite 'goodbye', and waved back at Bruce as we pulled away.
He kept looking back at Bruce as we waited at traffic lights and eventually we drove away from the area.
I then presumed they knew each other.
Not so....
At the next set of lights, Bruce turned fully in his seat to look at me and to my surprise began to speak to me. 'I'm glad you sat there' he said with the hint of a smile. I was stunned!
He went on to explain: "That man who got off, he's very nice and all that but he always tries to chat me up!" he rolled his eyes and I realised I had stopped breathing!
"I'm glad you didn't get off before, or he would have sat there and kept trying!"
Well, can you imagine? I remembered to breathe and a grin split my face from ear to ear and I burst out laughing !
This huge bus driver with the temperment of a bull, had been propositioned by a gay man! I was so surprised that anyone would be that brave or crazy as to even think of propositioning him and still get away in one piece, and so amused. I couldn't keep the smile off my face and at the next lights, he turned to me again and said,
"I work out - ( I'd noticed that) ' -And I look after myself and I'm only 40 and the only ones who take interest are men!"
He grinned then and drove on. I felt like saying ' Well, if i were 20 years younger' ... just to cheer him up!
But he went on to tell me that his wife would get a laugh from it, so I felt better for him.
I was all the time actually quite taken aback that he was talking to me!
When it came to my stop I paused before getting off and asked with a smile: "Is it safe to leave you alone now?"
He grinned and leaned forward and replied " Yes, I hope so. Thanks for saving me!" And he actually laughed!!
As he pulled away, I saw someone inside the bus waving; not at me but at him and obviously calling out something.....
When he'd stopped to let me off, Bruce hadn't opened the back doors - and he had driven off without letting another passenger off!
He still kept going to the next stop with his 'prisoner'...............!
Thursday, July 26, 2012
'Mumbles'
I have a new subject of amusement on my journey to work!
And I have decided to call him 'Mumbles'!
He is elderly, grey haired with a face like a character straight from Dickens - and he mumbles!
Constantly. Endlessly and seemingly without reason.
He sits in his cabin, hunched over the wheel, glances about furtively and mumbles.
Yesterday, sitting in my usual front seat, I thought at first that he was complaining about something to me; the traffic, the weather; something! Drivers often 'chat' to the front seat.
I guess they get a bit bored of their own company sometimes. But no, he just mumbles!
When passengers got on the bus he mumbled about "taking too much time" "Using the wrong ticket swipe" and didnt wait for anyone to sit down. Not even the elderly. They all went staggering up the aisle as he jerked away from the stop, still mumbling.
I tried to hear just what he was mumbling about. But it seemed to be quite random and usually directed at nothing in particular.
That is, until we got to Central. There he excelled himself. Taking the volume up a notch to actually complain to the passengers:
"All shoving on at once" "No tickets ready" "There are other buses you know'' "Why are you all getting on this one?" "What about that one behind us?" "Bloody daft!"
He kept up a steady stream of 'mumbling' as the passengers kept up a steady stream of boarding until the bus was so full, they were standing shoulder to shoulder by the front doors.
He looked at them standing there for a minute as they shuffled about self consciously and then shaking his head as he pulled the bus out from the stop, he began to mumble again:
"All packed in" "Must like it" "Should chuck 'em off "
The passengers nearby gave him sidelong glances and hung on tightly.
We passed a couple of stops without stopping and finally lurched to a halt at my request stop
The last words I heard from him as I squeezed past to get off were: "Hope I break down, that'll screw the buggers"!!
And I have decided to call him 'Mumbles'!
He is elderly, grey haired with a face like a character straight from Dickens - and he mumbles!
Constantly. Endlessly and seemingly without reason.
He sits in his cabin, hunched over the wheel, glances about furtively and mumbles.
Yesterday, sitting in my usual front seat, I thought at first that he was complaining about something to me; the traffic, the weather; something! Drivers often 'chat' to the front seat.
I guess they get a bit bored of their own company sometimes. But no, he just mumbles!
When passengers got on the bus he mumbled about "taking too much time" "Using the wrong ticket swipe" and didnt wait for anyone to sit down. Not even the elderly. They all went staggering up the aisle as he jerked away from the stop, still mumbling.
I tried to hear just what he was mumbling about. But it seemed to be quite random and usually directed at nothing in particular.
That is, until we got to Central. There he excelled himself. Taking the volume up a notch to actually complain to the passengers:
"All shoving on at once" "No tickets ready" "There are other buses you know'' "Why are you all getting on this one?" "What about that one behind us?" "Bloody daft!"
He kept up a steady stream of 'mumbling' as the passengers kept up a steady stream of boarding until the bus was so full, they were standing shoulder to shoulder by the front doors.
He looked at them standing there for a minute as they shuffled about self consciously and then shaking his head as he pulled the bus out from the stop, he began to mumble again:
"All packed in" "Must like it" "Should chuck 'em off "
The passengers nearby gave him sidelong glances and hung on tightly.
We passed a couple of stops without stopping and finally lurched to a halt at my request stop
The last words I heard from him as I squeezed past to get off were: "Hope I break down, that'll screw the buggers"!!
Tuesday, July 10, 2012
Bruce Willis Again
I experienced a surprising and pleasant exchange with Bruce Willis this morning.
Not THE Bruce Willis of course, but the scowling, difficult and downright rude, bus driving Bruce Willis look alike of my earlier Blogs.
I had hobbled somewhat slowly to catch the bus; I was having trouble with a knee, exacerbated by the cold weather, when, pausing to climb on, I looked up into the steely blue eyes of 'the driver known only to me as Bruce Willis' and my heart sank!
I was a little taken aback by the fact he had waited for me and I smiled at him pleasantly and said "Thank you and good morning" and to my surprise, instead of the usual grunt, there was a hint of a smile and a "good morning" in return!
As I fed my ticket into the machine by his cabin, I asked "How are you?"
He nodded pleasantly and replied "Good thanks" and then actually waited for me to sit before pulling away and thus, sparing me the embarrassment of tottering down the aisle!
I was so impressed with his courtesy, I could only imagine he had been hauled over the coals for his earlier behavior. Though I could be wrong. Maybe it was just a good day?
He also showed incredible self control when an elderly man puffed up to a stop near the city and hauling himself on, proceeded to sit without a word of thanks and without proffering a ticket.
"Ticket please Sir', Bruce called out. "Yeah, when I get me breath back!" the old man yelled back tetchily.
He eventually clambered to his feet and fed the machine his ticket, all the time glaring at the driver.
The rest of the journey was unremarkable; with the possible exception of a cyclist who is probably still alive because Bruce was having a good day and didn't drive over him as he puffed along in front of us, painfully slowly and in the bus lane!
When we arrived at my stop I thanked him and wished him a 'safe day'. Another smile came my way.
As I slowly walked away from the bus stop, a woman came panting toward me, waving wildly at the the driver to wait.
I turned to watch.
As she reached the front of the bus, he calmly closed the doors and, smiling to himself, he drove away without her!
I guess his good humour had run out!!
Not THE Bruce Willis of course, but the scowling, difficult and downright rude, bus driving Bruce Willis look alike of my earlier Blogs.
I had hobbled somewhat slowly to catch the bus; I was having trouble with a knee, exacerbated by the cold weather, when, pausing to climb on, I looked up into the steely blue eyes of 'the driver known only to me as Bruce Willis' and my heart sank!
I was a little taken aback by the fact he had waited for me and I smiled at him pleasantly and said "Thank you and good morning" and to my surprise, instead of the usual grunt, there was a hint of a smile and a "good morning" in return!
As I fed my ticket into the machine by his cabin, I asked "How are you?"
He nodded pleasantly and replied "Good thanks" and then actually waited for me to sit before pulling away and thus, sparing me the embarrassment of tottering down the aisle!
I was so impressed with his courtesy, I could only imagine he had been hauled over the coals for his earlier behavior. Though I could be wrong. Maybe it was just a good day?
He also showed incredible self control when an elderly man puffed up to a stop near the city and hauling himself on, proceeded to sit without a word of thanks and without proffering a ticket.
"Ticket please Sir', Bruce called out. "Yeah, when I get me breath back!" the old man yelled back tetchily.
He eventually clambered to his feet and fed the machine his ticket, all the time glaring at the driver.
The rest of the journey was unremarkable; with the possible exception of a cyclist who is probably still alive because Bruce was having a good day and didn't drive over him as he puffed along in front of us, painfully slowly and in the bus lane!
When we arrived at my stop I thanked him and wished him a 'safe day'. Another smile came my way.
As I slowly walked away from the bus stop, a woman came panting toward me, waving wildly at the the driver to wait.
I turned to watch.
As she reached the front of the bus, he calmly closed the doors and, smiling to himself, he drove away without her!
I guess his good humour had run out!!
Tuesday, June 26, 2012
Dancing in the Street
I often wonder how people who are listening to music, through headphones, can sit still or walk normally!
I find that hearing music, no matter what kind, generates some sort of physical reaction; either a simple foot tapping or a desire to dance!
If I'm listening whilst walking, my step has rhythm and is lighter with a touch of "Saturday Night Fever' that I have to restrain!!
If listening on the bus, I have to content myself with toe tapping or keeping pace with the beat with restless fingers on my knee. The need to refrain from bopping in my seat is almost impossible.
At work I can fidget to the music as much as like. I've been there long enough for my colleagues to ignore my seated gyrations whilst David Guetta beats a tattoo on my eardrums!
This morning I was listening to some old 70's music. Not my choice, but the bus driver's. Sitting at the front as I so often do, I am often treated to the driver's preferred entertainment; sometimes talk radio but more often than not a tape or CD of their favourites.
They vary so much as one would expect and are sometimes surprising.
An elderly driver who listens to rap! A Japanese driver who resembles an off duty Samuri and listens to Jazz and a lady driver with dreadlocks who prefers opera!
My tastes change naturally with my mood from modern pop to classical piano. From Bob Dylan to Eminem but always I'm involved in the rhythm.
That's why, this morning as i shared the driver's 70's hits, I was both amused and thrilled to notice some spontaneous street entertainment!
We had stopped at traffic lights in Elizabeth street and crawling slowly forward with the flow of traffic, when I glanced to my left out of the window and saw an elderly homeless man leaning against a post outside the Sky building. He was tall and skinny and probably wearing his entire wardrobe in layer upon layer of assorted colourful clothing; including two hats, and seemed to be listening to music as he played air guitar and pretended to sing. Availing himself of a captive audience of commuters, he pulled faces and smiled and waved at us and then he suddenly broke into a flurry of dancing; hopping around his pile of belongings and gyrating rhythmically.
He was actually quite a good dancer and his ease of movements made me think he was probably younger than he appeared, but I guess time on the street will tell on a person.
He was not asking for money. Indeed, he held a take-away coffee in his hand the whole time he performed.
I think he was just feeling, surprisingly, good about life and feeling the thrill of the music.
As we moved away, I watched the faces of people passing him by and he put a smile on most of them.
He certainly put a smile on mine!
I find that hearing music, no matter what kind, generates some sort of physical reaction; either a simple foot tapping or a desire to dance!
If I'm listening whilst walking, my step has rhythm and is lighter with a touch of "Saturday Night Fever' that I have to restrain!!
If listening on the bus, I have to content myself with toe tapping or keeping pace with the beat with restless fingers on my knee. The need to refrain from bopping in my seat is almost impossible.
At work I can fidget to the music as much as like. I've been there long enough for my colleagues to ignore my seated gyrations whilst David Guetta beats a tattoo on my eardrums!
This morning I was listening to some old 70's music. Not my choice, but the bus driver's. Sitting at the front as I so often do, I am often treated to the driver's preferred entertainment; sometimes talk radio but more often than not a tape or CD of their favourites.
They vary so much as one would expect and are sometimes surprising.
An elderly driver who listens to rap! A Japanese driver who resembles an off duty Samuri and listens to Jazz and a lady driver with dreadlocks who prefers opera!
My tastes change naturally with my mood from modern pop to classical piano. From Bob Dylan to Eminem but always I'm involved in the rhythm.
That's why, this morning as i shared the driver's 70's hits, I was both amused and thrilled to notice some spontaneous street entertainment!
We had stopped at traffic lights in Elizabeth street and crawling slowly forward with the flow of traffic, when I glanced to my left out of the window and saw an elderly homeless man leaning against a post outside the Sky building. He was tall and skinny and probably wearing his entire wardrobe in layer upon layer of assorted colourful clothing; including two hats, and seemed to be listening to music as he played air guitar and pretended to sing. Availing himself of a captive audience of commuters, he pulled faces and smiled and waved at us and then he suddenly broke into a flurry of dancing; hopping around his pile of belongings and gyrating rhythmically.
He was actually quite a good dancer and his ease of movements made me think he was probably younger than he appeared, but I guess time on the street will tell on a person.
He was not asking for money. Indeed, he held a take-away coffee in his hand the whole time he performed.
I think he was just feeling, surprisingly, good about life and feeling the thrill of the music.
As we moved away, I watched the faces of people passing him by and he put a smile on most of them.
He certainly put a smile on mine!
Friday, June 22, 2012
The Captain
Being a Friday I can't wait to get out of the office. It's been a tough week!
So,this evening I hurry aboard the bus , having just caught it by the skin of my teeth, and I'm immediately aware that there is some sort of 'cabaret act' going on in the shape of a scruffy but clean, skinny, elderly man, sitting in a single seat, with his sharp, worn features almost totally obscured by facial hair and wearing a beanie, colourful clothes and a perpetual grin!
He is obviously a little inebriated and is greeting everyone that boards with a cheery comment; most of which are complimentary to the females and outrageous to the men. Everyone is amused and taking his remarks in good humour. Such is the nature of Australians alike!
Thankfully, I slipped on the bus behind a rather large lady; who he invites to 'sit on his lap' (she declined with a grin) and I manage to avoid any comment. Though he did observe me sitting and mumbled that he had, 'missed one there!'
He went on chatting away and passed amusing comments on this person and that; on their clothes or hair and we learned from a young girl sitting close by that he was known as 'The Captain'; because he salutes everyone at her office.
I cannot for the life of me begin to imagine what he could possibly do in an office and one only hopes he is not the CEO!
A young guy sitting next to me, leaned closer to me and remarked that he was going to read his book but that this was 'much more entertaining'! I agreed whole-heartedly!
Two stops on and a respectable looking, middle aged businessman with glasses, got on and was greeted with "Ello Mate! 'Ow's yer ball-sac"? to which he replied -totally unfazed- ' Fine, how's yours?' as if this type of conversation took place every day on an M10 bus in rush hour!
To give the man his due, he did manage to manoeuvre the conversation around to football after a couple more bawdy comments and we all exchanged relieved but amused glances!
We all sat with grins on our faces, eyes meeting across the aisle and exchanging amused looks. Possibly more from the fact that this was all taking place on a Friday night after a long, dull week at work and this was light relief!
I think we were ALL disappointed when the old boy got off at George street. He grinned a toothy grin at us as he passed and shook hands with some - including mine and with a 'Night Love' - was gone. Lost among the throng of people on the street, hurrying in the chilly night.
As the bus pulled away we shifted in our seats and returned to our own worlds Out came phones and books and heads bowed over them or gazed out of windows and we were once more immersed in our personal journeys.
The bus resumed its usual quiet murmur as it trundled its way through the dark and the slow, city traffic.
The bus seemed a little bit empty and a little darker without our cheerful companion. But we were all a little lighter on the inside!
So,this evening I hurry aboard the bus , having just caught it by the skin of my teeth, and I'm immediately aware that there is some sort of 'cabaret act' going on in the shape of a scruffy but clean, skinny, elderly man, sitting in a single seat, with his sharp, worn features almost totally obscured by facial hair and wearing a beanie, colourful clothes and a perpetual grin!
He is obviously a little inebriated and is greeting everyone that boards with a cheery comment; most of which are complimentary to the females and outrageous to the men. Everyone is amused and taking his remarks in good humour. Such is the nature of Australians alike!
Thankfully, I slipped on the bus behind a rather large lady; who he invites to 'sit on his lap' (she declined with a grin) and I manage to avoid any comment. Though he did observe me sitting and mumbled that he had, 'missed one there!'
He went on chatting away and passed amusing comments on this person and that; on their clothes or hair and we learned from a young girl sitting close by that he was known as 'The Captain'; because he salutes everyone at her office.
I cannot for the life of me begin to imagine what he could possibly do in an office and one only hopes he is not the CEO!
A young guy sitting next to me, leaned closer to me and remarked that he was going to read his book but that this was 'much more entertaining'! I agreed whole-heartedly!
Two stops on and a respectable looking, middle aged businessman with glasses, got on and was greeted with "Ello Mate! 'Ow's yer ball-sac"? to which he replied -totally unfazed- ' Fine, how's yours?' as if this type of conversation took place every day on an M10 bus in rush hour!
To give the man his due, he did manage to manoeuvre the conversation around to football after a couple more bawdy comments and we all exchanged relieved but amused glances!
We all sat with grins on our faces, eyes meeting across the aisle and exchanging amused looks. Possibly more from the fact that this was all taking place on a Friday night after a long, dull week at work and this was light relief!
I think we were ALL disappointed when the old boy got off at George street. He grinned a toothy grin at us as he passed and shook hands with some - including mine and with a 'Night Love' - was gone. Lost among the throng of people on the street, hurrying in the chilly night.
As the bus pulled away we shifted in our seats and returned to our own worlds Out came phones and books and heads bowed over them or gazed out of windows and we were once more immersed in our personal journeys.
The bus resumed its usual quiet murmur as it trundled its way through the dark and the slow, city traffic.
The bus seemed a little bit empty and a little darker without our cheerful companion. But we were all a little lighter on the inside!
Saturday, June 9, 2012
Simple Things
It really is the simple things in life that make us happy.
Like being warm or accepting a kindness or just being loved.
I have never understood why some people can be really unpleasant or angry or unkind.
I realise that some situations are worse than others but in general, isnt it much nicer to be pleasant and thoughtful and kind?
'It's nice to be nice' I remember someone saying, many years ago.
Neither have I ever understood how people tolerate the cold. For me, being cold is akin to physical pain and for me, being cold begins at anything lower than 18 degrees. I know there are many others out there who are like me and suffer when the temperature drops only a few degrees.
Likewise, I realise some people have a greater tolerence of cold and I envy them.
The other morning, I shivered all the way to work. I felt the cold air as I left home and suffered from it when I paced up and down at the bus stop (how do people just stand still and wait?)
When I sat on the bus, the aircon was on full blast blowing out cold air! Was I the only one who was shivering in my seat? Seemingly not; for a woman like me, rugged up with gloves and scarf and warm coat, bravely enquired of the driver if the heater could be turned on - only to be rebuffed with a gruff statement that the aircon - was 'preset'. Absolute rubbish of course!
I got off a few stops before I needed to so that I could walk and maybe warm up but I still shivered in Sydney's nose dripping 7 degrees.
I clung to my hot cup of coffee as I left the local cafe and trudged the last few steps to the office; my gloved hands warming from the heat of the cup and my eyes watering in the chill air.
I passed a man sitting on a bench reading a paper. Just an ordinary man; nothing different about him - except that he was in shirt sleeves, neck open, no scarf or coat in sight.
Who ARE this breed that just don't feel the cold. What is their secret?
Being warm is a basic need. I just seem to need it more than most!
The day warmed up as it does with the face of the sun beaming down on us and by evening, my walk to the bus stop was a little more pleasant. It was still chilly as it was growing dark now; the sun had slipped over the horizon a while back, and I was glad the bus wasn't long in coming.
I got on and sat in a single seat watching passively out of the window.
I was tired and glad to be going home.
I was aware of a child leaning over the seat in front of me, staring at me, but I wasn't taking much notice; when suddenly, a little hand sought mine and held it.
I looked up into the blackest eyes and the handsome face of a little boy of about 4 years old with a frame of glossy black curls.
I gently stroked his soft hand with my thumb and smiled quietly at him and he smiled back. He sat like that for a good few minutes and then, snatching his hand away with the suddeness that children have, he came around the seat and hugged my lap. I stroked his back a little and smoothed the unruly black curls and then he was gone. Back to his mum and small brother.
I was so warmed inside from that little gesture of kindness and tolerence; so heartened by the brief moment of 'love' from another tiny human being, that I was overwhelmed by it and quite forgot I was cold.
Why he picked me I will never know. It was like time stood still in a single moment of total tranquility.
He will never know the effect he had on reaching out to another human being. He just seemed to know it was needed.
The little family got off at the next stop with no backward glance. I didn't expect it. The moment had passed.
But I was left with a warm glow inside that sits with me, even today.
......It's just the simple things!
Like being warm or accepting a kindness or just being loved.
I have never understood why some people can be really unpleasant or angry or unkind.
I realise that some situations are worse than others but in general, isnt it much nicer to be pleasant and thoughtful and kind?
'It's nice to be nice' I remember someone saying, many years ago.
Neither have I ever understood how people tolerate the cold. For me, being cold is akin to physical pain and for me, being cold begins at anything lower than 18 degrees. I know there are many others out there who are like me and suffer when the temperature drops only a few degrees.
Likewise, I realise some people have a greater tolerence of cold and I envy them.
The other morning, I shivered all the way to work. I felt the cold air as I left home and suffered from it when I paced up and down at the bus stop (how do people just stand still and wait?)
When I sat on the bus, the aircon was on full blast blowing out cold air! Was I the only one who was shivering in my seat? Seemingly not; for a woman like me, rugged up with gloves and scarf and warm coat, bravely enquired of the driver if the heater could be turned on - only to be rebuffed with a gruff statement that the aircon - was 'preset'. Absolute rubbish of course!
I got off a few stops before I needed to so that I could walk and maybe warm up but I still shivered in Sydney's nose dripping 7 degrees.
I clung to my hot cup of coffee as I left the local cafe and trudged the last few steps to the office; my gloved hands warming from the heat of the cup and my eyes watering in the chill air.
I passed a man sitting on a bench reading a paper. Just an ordinary man; nothing different about him - except that he was in shirt sleeves, neck open, no scarf or coat in sight.
Who ARE this breed that just don't feel the cold. What is their secret?
Being warm is a basic need. I just seem to need it more than most!
The day warmed up as it does with the face of the sun beaming down on us and by evening, my walk to the bus stop was a little more pleasant. It was still chilly as it was growing dark now; the sun had slipped over the horizon a while back, and I was glad the bus wasn't long in coming.
I got on and sat in a single seat watching passively out of the window.
I was tired and glad to be going home.
I was aware of a child leaning over the seat in front of me, staring at me, but I wasn't taking much notice; when suddenly, a little hand sought mine and held it.
I looked up into the blackest eyes and the handsome face of a little boy of about 4 years old with a frame of glossy black curls.
I gently stroked his soft hand with my thumb and smiled quietly at him and he smiled back. He sat like that for a good few minutes and then, snatching his hand away with the suddeness that children have, he came around the seat and hugged my lap. I stroked his back a little and smoothed the unruly black curls and then he was gone. Back to his mum and small brother.
I was so warmed inside from that little gesture of kindness and tolerence; so heartened by the brief moment of 'love' from another tiny human being, that I was overwhelmed by it and quite forgot I was cold.
Why he picked me I will never know. It was like time stood still in a single moment of total tranquility.
He will never know the effect he had on reaching out to another human being. He just seemed to know it was needed.
The little family got off at the next stop with no backward glance. I didn't expect it. The moment had passed.
But I was left with a warm glow inside that sits with me, even today.
......It's just the simple things!
Saturday, June 2, 2012
Wet Weather Companions
You don't see many people reading newspapers on the bus any more.
It used to be the pass time of just about anyone travelling into the city but now its eReaders, iPods, iPhones, iPads....
We are listening and looking and watching and talking. Some even play games while travelling. No longer the Times crossword or the Daily Mail wordsearch but we're using our phones or gadets to play Sudoku, or Wordtower or a Platform game or even an intricate strategy game!
I look around me and there are those who are in engrossed in their chosen method of entertainment to pass the time travelling or the ones who gaze out the windows with unseeing eyes; lost in their daydreams.
Some doze quietly, others, like me today, have a look around them and take note of their fellow passengers.
This is best done from a side seat as one has a better view of both ends of the bus and can watch people as they board or alight from the bus.
This morning it was raining and for some reason I really don't understand, the bus is so much busier! So too is the general traffic.
Where do all these extra people and cars come from? I realise that a small number of them are cyclists - but the rest? Surely they don't usually walk all the way into the city?
Who are these commuters who suddenly appear when it rains and then disappear again when the sun shines?
Who is this lady coming on now with her hair piled precariously high on her head. Very overweight in a red coat that is too tight, too short, with red tights and a pink skirt? :o/
Or this pretty girl with the three different coloured, nail polish and the smart black suit and bright white trainers, her wet umbrella dripping onto the feet of the man standing next to her?
Or the boy chatting on the phone as he inserts his ticket, drops it, knocks someone aside in bending to pick it up, blocks the aisle and generally causes momentary chaos......?
Just a few of the strange faces and characters that have suddenly joined us on our journey today.
I don't recall ever seeing them before. I don't travel on the same bus everyday so I stand a good chance of seeing most people that are regulars on this route.
It's getting very crowded. People are standing, holding on to the straps or leaning against the rails.
A man sits next to me; squashed against me in the middle confines of a three person seat. He sits with his legs far apart, encroaching on my personal space and I simmer quietly until I can stand it no longer and catch him a dig with my oversized handbag which contains my netbook today as well as my iPad, so weighs quite heavily and full of uncomfortable corners which dig in his leg beautifully.
He gets the message and presses his knees closer together with a quick wriggle and an indignant side glance.
Comfy again, I get out my iPad to read the Newspaper.
It used to be the pass time of just about anyone travelling into the city but now its eReaders, iPods, iPhones, iPads....
We are listening and looking and watching and talking. Some even play games while travelling. No longer the Times crossword or the Daily Mail wordsearch but we're using our phones or gadets to play Sudoku, or Wordtower or a Platform game or even an intricate strategy game!
I look around me and there are those who are in engrossed in their chosen method of entertainment to pass the time travelling or the ones who gaze out the windows with unseeing eyes; lost in their daydreams.
Some doze quietly, others, like me today, have a look around them and take note of their fellow passengers.
This is best done from a side seat as one has a better view of both ends of the bus and can watch people as they board or alight from the bus.
This morning it was raining and for some reason I really don't understand, the bus is so much busier! So too is the general traffic.
Where do all these extra people and cars come from? I realise that a small number of them are cyclists - but the rest? Surely they don't usually walk all the way into the city?
Who are these commuters who suddenly appear when it rains and then disappear again when the sun shines?
Who is this lady coming on now with her hair piled precariously high on her head. Very overweight in a red coat that is too tight, too short, with red tights and a pink skirt? :o/
Or this pretty girl with the three different coloured, nail polish and the smart black suit and bright white trainers, her wet umbrella dripping onto the feet of the man standing next to her?
Or the boy chatting on the phone as he inserts his ticket, drops it, knocks someone aside in bending to pick it up, blocks the aisle and generally causes momentary chaos......?
Just a few of the strange faces and characters that have suddenly joined us on our journey today.
I don't recall ever seeing them before. I don't travel on the same bus everyday so I stand a good chance of seeing most people that are regulars on this route.
It's getting very crowded. People are standing, holding on to the straps or leaning against the rails.
A man sits next to me; squashed against me in the middle confines of a three person seat. He sits with his legs far apart, encroaching on my personal space and I simmer quietly until I can stand it no longer and catch him a dig with my oversized handbag which contains my netbook today as well as my iPad, so weighs quite heavily and full of uncomfortable corners which dig in his leg beautifully.
He gets the message and presses his knees closer together with a quick wriggle and an indignant side glance.
Comfy again, I get out my iPad to read the Newspaper.
Thursday, May 24, 2012
"Lost"
I have always wanted to travel.
Even as a child I dreamed of adventures that took me to other countries.
I had a 'thing' about 'Red Indians' as we called them back then. Native Americans now. I wanted to go to America and live with them! I have no idea why!
Oh, actually, I do... I used to attend Primary School in England with a little boy called Johnny 'Running Bear' something or other. I don't recall his family name. He spoke with an American accent and had brown skin and we played every lunch time at cowboys and Indians. He said he was from a Sioux Indian tribe. He certainly looked like a red Indian.
He was there only for a short time so I guess he could have been genuine. Anyhow, I was left with a lifelong love for them.
I never did get to America. Half a century later I am an east coast Australian Citizen and I couldn't really have travelled any further away from my homeland. But never, in the intervening years, did I manage to explore another other country in any depth. A quick day trip with a school to Boulogne when I was 15 and a pretty horrible soggy kiss on the quay from a French boy, whose name I still recall was Alain, was all I experienced. It put me off French men for life!
I grew up in an age when an overseas trip was for the rich and famous and the usual, long awaited family holiday, was a day trip to the seaside. I remember well, the pebble beaches that crunched awkwardly underfoot and the chilly waters of the English Channel lapping over my little bare feet.
So, coming to Australia was a monumental journey for me. I came for love, and grew to love this country too.
Though sometimes, I manage to explore bits of it I don't actually intend....
One evening, after a long tiring day at work, I waited as usual for my red metro bus to take me home and suddenly remembered my ticket had expired .
I hurried into a nearby shop to buy a new one and seeing my bus arrive at the stop, dashed out and straight onto the bus.
I made myself comfortable in a side facing seat and was soon immersed in watching an episode of my favourite series 'Fringe', on my iPad.
Being winter, the darkness quickly grew outside and I occasionally looked up to see the lights of the buildings in George St and the increasing dazzle of traffic.
My episode of Fringe was enthralling and I was lost in the intrigue and excitement.
People got on and off the bus and I eventually came to the end of the episode.
When next I looked up, the world outside seemed strange. I had expected to see the familiar surroundings of Anzac Parade by this time and yet I didnt recognise anything that I could see. I craned forward to look out of the front of the bus and to my utter horror, saw a huge roadsign that said words to the effect: 'Freeway- Liverpool'!
I was on the wrong bus!
Quickly thrusting my iPad into my bag, I scuttled up the gangway to the driver and announced, with a calmness I didn't feel, that I was 'on the wrong bus'! I had meant to catch the M10 !
"You're on the M30, which goes to Spit Junction" he told me with a chuckle! He seemed to find the whole episode highly amusing. My calamity was probably the highlight of his day!
He grinned at me and said I could travel with him to the end of the route and then return to the city or I could get off at the next stop -Neutral Bay - and catch a bus back into the city myself.
I chose the latter! I'd not heard of Spit Junction let alone had a clue where it would be!
I didn't want to end up any further away from the comfort of a city known to me, than I needed to be!
"Didn't you notice when we crossed the HUGE Harbour bridge" he asked?
'I was between two worlds at the time' I told him weakly; indicating my iPad and made reference to the Fringe Sci-Fi series!
A short journey on and we reached the next stop. He wished me well as he set me down in the middle of a strange town on a dark and frankly alarming, night!!
It was a long time since I had been truly lost! I was probably about 3 the last time and had wandered away from my mum in a shop, only to grab what I thought was her coat and look up into a the face of a complete stranger. My subsequent screams brought my real mum running to claim me!
I wasn't about to scream but definitely felt the pangs of alarm as I crossed the busy highway to the bus stop opposite. I was definitely out of my comfort zone!
Once I was sure I was in the right place and only had minutes to wait for my bus back to the city; I called other half and told him of my mis-adventure.
When he had stopped laughing - which seemed a considerable length of time - he kindly offered to pick me up! I thought I could manage the trip into Sydney so we finally agreed; I would find my way back to the city and he could collect me from there.
"Didn't you notice you were crossing a HUGE bridge" he asked, still laughing
I just sighed and waited patiently for the next bus.
Even as a child I dreamed of adventures that took me to other countries.
I had a 'thing' about 'Red Indians' as we called them back then. Native Americans now. I wanted to go to America and live with them! I have no idea why!
Oh, actually, I do... I used to attend Primary School in England with a little boy called Johnny 'Running Bear' something or other. I don't recall his family name. He spoke with an American accent and had brown skin and we played every lunch time at cowboys and Indians. He said he was from a Sioux Indian tribe. He certainly looked like a red Indian.
He was there only for a short time so I guess he could have been genuine. Anyhow, I was left with a lifelong love for them.
I never did get to America. Half a century later I am an east coast Australian Citizen and I couldn't really have travelled any further away from my homeland. But never, in the intervening years, did I manage to explore another other country in any depth. A quick day trip with a school to Boulogne when I was 15 and a pretty horrible soggy kiss on the quay from a French boy, whose name I still recall was Alain, was all I experienced. It put me off French men for life!
I grew up in an age when an overseas trip was for the rich and famous and the usual, long awaited family holiday, was a day trip to the seaside. I remember well, the pebble beaches that crunched awkwardly underfoot and the chilly waters of the English Channel lapping over my little bare feet.
So, coming to Australia was a monumental journey for me. I came for love, and grew to love this country too.
Though sometimes, I manage to explore bits of it I don't actually intend....
One evening, after a long tiring day at work, I waited as usual for my red metro bus to take me home and suddenly remembered my ticket had expired .
I hurried into a nearby shop to buy a new one and seeing my bus arrive at the stop, dashed out and straight onto the bus.
I made myself comfortable in a side facing seat and was soon immersed in watching an episode of my favourite series 'Fringe', on my iPad.
Being winter, the darkness quickly grew outside and I occasionally looked up to see the lights of the buildings in George St and the increasing dazzle of traffic.
My episode of Fringe was enthralling and I was lost in the intrigue and excitement.
People got on and off the bus and I eventually came to the end of the episode.
When next I looked up, the world outside seemed strange. I had expected to see the familiar surroundings of Anzac Parade by this time and yet I didnt recognise anything that I could see. I craned forward to look out of the front of the bus and to my utter horror, saw a huge roadsign that said words to the effect: 'Freeway- Liverpool'!
I was on the wrong bus!
Quickly thrusting my iPad into my bag, I scuttled up the gangway to the driver and announced, with a calmness I didn't feel, that I was 'on the wrong bus'! I had meant to catch the M10 !
"You're on the M30, which goes to Spit Junction" he told me with a chuckle! He seemed to find the whole episode highly amusing. My calamity was probably the highlight of his day!
He grinned at me and said I could travel with him to the end of the route and then return to the city or I could get off at the next stop -Neutral Bay - and catch a bus back into the city myself.
I chose the latter! I'd not heard of Spit Junction let alone had a clue where it would be!
I didn't want to end up any further away from the comfort of a city known to me, than I needed to be!
"Didn't you notice when we crossed the HUGE Harbour bridge" he asked?
'I was between two worlds at the time' I told him weakly; indicating my iPad and made reference to the Fringe Sci-Fi series!
A short journey on and we reached the next stop. He wished me well as he set me down in the middle of a strange town on a dark and frankly alarming, night!!
It was a long time since I had been truly lost! I was probably about 3 the last time and had wandered away from my mum in a shop, only to grab what I thought was her coat and look up into a the face of a complete stranger. My subsequent screams brought my real mum running to claim me!
I wasn't about to scream but definitely felt the pangs of alarm as I crossed the busy highway to the bus stop opposite. I was definitely out of my comfort zone!
Once I was sure I was in the right place and only had minutes to wait for my bus back to the city; I called other half and told him of my mis-adventure.
When he had stopped laughing - which seemed a considerable length of time - he kindly offered to pick me up! I thought I could manage the trip into Sydney so we finally agreed; I would find my way back to the city and he could collect me from there.
"Didn't you notice you were crossing a HUGE bridge" he asked, still laughing
I just sighed and waited patiently for the next bus.
Monday, May 14, 2012
Last laugh!
I had to run 100yds for the bus this morning!
Most mornings I drive to the local town to catch the bus.
I don't use the bus stop nearest to the car park by the library; but walk, some 2-300 yards back, to the first stop for the Metrobus.
Not only does it give me a little morning exercise but I'm more likely to get my favoured front seat at this stop.
This morning, I saw the bus approaching as I had begun my walk, so I turned around, judging the library stop to be the nearest and legged it!
The bus pulled in to the stop and waited with his front doors open. I'm certain it was waiting for me, since I was the only one around and they don't usually stop unless waved down.
I thought, 'How nice!' 'How observant of the driver!'
I almost reached the open doors of the bus - when the doors closed and the bus pulled away from the kerb!
In the side mirror, I could just see the smirking face of 'Bruce Willis', the dreaded driver of ill repute and subject of my first blog and he was looking straight at me!
I just knew it would be him. He was playing his 'game'!
Any other driver would have allowed me on. Would have waited the last two seconds for a late comer.
Especially one gasping for breath and in danger of having a heart attack at 7.30 am on a chilly morning!
Not being one to dwell on things, I simply shrugged, turned back and decided to walk the distance to my usual bus stop. Besides, I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing me waving an angry fist or jumping up and down with annoyance! Though I would, quite happily, have shot him!
I read somewhere ' There are a lot of people in the world that annoy us simply because we're not allowed to shoot them!'
Anyway, I was quite chuffed that I had managed the run to be honest!
I'd just had a really lazy weekend where I had hardly moved from my computer- except to raid the fridge of Mother's day chocolates and goodies.
After about a ten minute wait - during which time a strange and very overweight woman with short white, sticky up hair, a large striped T shirt, slippers and nothing else, approached me for 50cents (reasonable I thought but still not forthcoming) - the next bus came along and I was pleased to see a friendly and animated driver who kept up a cheerful banter with all the passengers throughout the journey. AND he waited for passengers who ran to catch him.
When I finally got off at my stop and thanked him, he even wished me a 'pleasant week ahead' !
But my moment of triumph was when we first reached the city.
There, ahead of us, was the bus I had missed! It had been held up by the rush hour traffic and we had caught up with it as it idled at a bus stop!
Our driver carried on past and as we drew level, I made a point of looking straight at the driver.
Yes, it was him. It was 'Bruce Willis' and I swear, when he looked right back at me, he recognised me - and there was no smirk on his face then!!
I grinned broadly and laughed at him. I had the last laugh!
Most mornings I drive to the local town to catch the bus.
I don't use the bus stop nearest to the car park by the library; but walk, some 2-300 yards back, to the first stop for the Metrobus.
Not only does it give me a little morning exercise but I'm more likely to get my favoured front seat at this stop.
This morning, I saw the bus approaching as I had begun my walk, so I turned around, judging the library stop to be the nearest and legged it!
The bus pulled in to the stop and waited with his front doors open. I'm certain it was waiting for me, since I was the only one around and they don't usually stop unless waved down.
I thought, 'How nice!' 'How observant of the driver!'
I almost reached the open doors of the bus - when the doors closed and the bus pulled away from the kerb!
In the side mirror, I could just see the smirking face of 'Bruce Willis', the dreaded driver of ill repute and subject of my first blog and he was looking straight at me!
I just knew it would be him. He was playing his 'game'!
Any other driver would have allowed me on. Would have waited the last two seconds for a late comer.
Especially one gasping for breath and in danger of having a heart attack at 7.30 am on a chilly morning!
Not being one to dwell on things, I simply shrugged, turned back and decided to walk the distance to my usual bus stop. Besides, I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing me waving an angry fist or jumping up and down with annoyance! Though I would, quite happily, have shot him!
I read somewhere ' There are a lot of people in the world that annoy us simply because we're not allowed to shoot them!'
Anyway, I was quite chuffed that I had managed the run to be honest!
I'd just had a really lazy weekend where I had hardly moved from my computer- except to raid the fridge of Mother's day chocolates and goodies.
After about a ten minute wait - during which time a strange and very overweight woman with short white, sticky up hair, a large striped T shirt, slippers and nothing else, approached me for 50cents (reasonable I thought but still not forthcoming) - the next bus came along and I was pleased to see a friendly and animated driver who kept up a cheerful banter with all the passengers throughout the journey. AND he waited for passengers who ran to catch him.
When I finally got off at my stop and thanked him, he even wished me a 'pleasant week ahead' !
But my moment of triumph was when we first reached the city.
There, ahead of us, was the bus I had missed! It had been held up by the rush hour traffic and we had caught up with it as it idled at a bus stop!
Our driver carried on past and as we drew level, I made a point of looking straight at the driver.
Yes, it was him. It was 'Bruce Willis' and I swear, when he looked right back at me, he recognised me - and there was no smirk on his face then!!
I grinned broadly and laughed at him. I had the last laugh!
Friday, May 11, 2012
Blue Moon!
The recent warm weather has brought out all the early morning 'would be fit' and the fit people alike.
The joggers bounce or stagger (according to their fitness) along the footpaths on their way to uni or work and the cyclists have increased in numbers.
The seasoned cyclists on their racing bikes, with their lycra outfits and waxed legs are not so bad, as they zip in and out of the traffic and keep up with the flow, but the 'not so fit' on their mountain bikes, with their Kmart shorts and furry legs, puff along in the bus lanes and are the bane of every bus drivers daily life.
They either pedal along aimlessly, seemingly out for a 'nice ride' or pedal furiously to try to keep up with the traffic and getting nowhere; mainly because they haven't yet learned the art of gear changing!
The bus driver is forced to either dawdle along behind them until he reaches the next bus stop - which will give them time to get ahead - or he has to overtake by pulling into the next lane, which only necessitates his having to pull in again for the next stop.
I have to say that, on the whole, the bus drivers are remarkably patient!
But it does have its amusing moments....
Sitting in my usual front seat and travelling along the Anzac Parade, early one cold but sunny morning, the bus dawdled patiently behind one slightly overweight and labouring cyclist, whose T-shirt had parted company with his shorts showing a glimpse of his back.
'He'll get a cold in his kidneys' I thought...
By the time we got to Kensington, his shorts had slipped down a couple of inches showing a 'bottom cleavage'. Not the best of sights at any time of the day!
The bus driver nodded his head in the cyclist's direction and smirked. I smiled politely and tried not to look!
As we approached the Moore Park turn off, the shorts had decided they no longer wanted to be part of his attire and had slipped down to bike seat level; exposing almost all of his rear end!
It was a chilly morning, despite the clear blue sky and sunshine, but the cyclist didn't seem to notice the increasing cold draft at all!
By this time, the driver didn't know where to look and neither did I. For once, I had neither ereader nor iPad in which to safely immerse myself.
I felt a real compulsion to laugh out loud and the driver, creased with laughter, had tears in his eyes - from laughing or looking - I'm not sure!
Eventually, unable to cope any longer, the driver pulled into the next bus stop even though no one wanted to get on or off, to simply allow the cyclist to get ahead and hopefully out of sight.
The last view we had was of a bright, white bum, wobbling in the sunlight and disappearing along the Anzac parade towards the city.
I just hope no one crashed as a result!
The joggers bounce or stagger (according to their fitness) along the footpaths on their way to uni or work and the cyclists have increased in numbers.
The seasoned cyclists on their racing bikes, with their lycra outfits and waxed legs are not so bad, as they zip in and out of the traffic and keep up with the flow, but the 'not so fit' on their mountain bikes, with their Kmart shorts and furry legs, puff along in the bus lanes and are the bane of every bus drivers daily life.
They either pedal along aimlessly, seemingly out for a 'nice ride' or pedal furiously to try to keep up with the traffic and getting nowhere; mainly because they haven't yet learned the art of gear changing!
The bus driver is forced to either dawdle along behind them until he reaches the next bus stop - which will give them time to get ahead - or he has to overtake by pulling into the next lane, which only necessitates his having to pull in again for the next stop.
I have to say that, on the whole, the bus drivers are remarkably patient!
But it does have its amusing moments....
Sitting in my usual front seat and travelling along the Anzac Parade, early one cold but sunny morning, the bus dawdled patiently behind one slightly overweight and labouring cyclist, whose T-shirt had parted company with his shorts showing a glimpse of his back.
'He'll get a cold in his kidneys' I thought...
By the time we got to Kensington, his shorts had slipped down a couple of inches showing a 'bottom cleavage'. Not the best of sights at any time of the day!
The bus driver nodded his head in the cyclist's direction and smirked. I smiled politely and tried not to look!
As we approached the Moore Park turn off, the shorts had decided they no longer wanted to be part of his attire and had slipped down to bike seat level; exposing almost all of his rear end!
It was a chilly morning, despite the clear blue sky and sunshine, but the cyclist didn't seem to notice the increasing cold draft at all!
By this time, the driver didn't know where to look and neither did I. For once, I had neither ereader nor iPad in which to safely immerse myself.
I felt a real compulsion to laugh out loud and the driver, creased with laughter, had tears in his eyes - from laughing or looking - I'm not sure!
Eventually, unable to cope any longer, the driver pulled into the next bus stop even though no one wanted to get on or off, to simply allow the cyclist to get ahead and hopefully out of sight.
The last view we had was of a bright, white bum, wobbling in the sunlight and disappearing along the Anzac parade towards the city.
I just hope no one crashed as a result!
Wednesday, May 9, 2012
Skin Deep
I thought she would be beautiful!
Long blonde hair that looked well conditioned and soft. She wore a smart black suit and had a neat figure. The young girl sat in front of me on a side seat but was turned away from me as she applied her morning make up; pausing between stops and waiting for the bus to come to a halt at traffic lights to execute the tricky bits.
A young, fresh faced soldier in his camouflage uniform, standing by the doors, watched her. Attracted by her hair I thought, as it swayed with her motions and by the pretty crossing of her legs as she changed position but sat, still turned away from us to catch the light for her on-going work of art.
I hadn't noticed her get on. I only spotted her as I glanced up from the latest novel that kept me occupied on the hour long journey.
Ruth Rendell and yet another crime for Wexford to solve.
By comparison, the young woman who sat next to her and who kept giving her sideways glances, wore no make up at all and I desperately wanted to say to her that she would have benefited from a little colour in the drab, colourless face that seemed to be in need of moisturiser at least; for it was an attractive face with good features but oh so dull and neglected. I wondered why she didn't bother. Was it just that she didn't feel the need to enhance her features? Or that she didn't care?
Was it my imagination or did the woman look uncomfortable as she caught glimpses of the young girl's cosmetic routine?
The masterpiece in the making continued throughout most of the journey. A brush fluttered across her cheeks at Surrey Hills and a lipstick kissed lips that were full and wide at Monument. This I watched through the tiny mirror she held. A teasing glimpse of nose or eye but never a full face...
An old man, leaning his gnarled hands on a walking stick which he balanced between his knees, sat staring. His view better than mine; his rheumy eyes flitted across her face and settled on the array of brushes in her hands with a bemused expression and then lost interest and stared out of the window.
At Town Hall the finished work of art alighted and I was afforded my first viewing - and was disappointed; as one so often is when expectations are high. The young face was too long for beauty and the make up too thick and inexpert and therefore, the illusion of perfection was spoiled.
Maybe without make up she would have been beautiful... ?
Maybe the other woman had the right idea after all but just hadn't taken care of herself. Or maybe her life was a trial that had left its story in the lines of her face.
The young girl's place was taken by an ageing man who looked like an old Rocker. His long grey hair, thinning now, parted in the middle and tied back. Tattoos peeped above his worn shirt collar and his features looked haggard and worn with age and life in general.
He totally ignored his surroundings and immediately sat and began prodding impatiently at his phone, the screen seemingly unresponsive and I thought -
'You should have bought an iPhone'!
Long blonde hair that looked well conditioned and soft. She wore a smart black suit and had a neat figure. The young girl sat in front of me on a side seat but was turned away from me as she applied her morning make up; pausing between stops and waiting for the bus to come to a halt at traffic lights to execute the tricky bits.
A young, fresh faced soldier in his camouflage uniform, standing by the doors, watched her. Attracted by her hair I thought, as it swayed with her motions and by the pretty crossing of her legs as she changed position but sat, still turned away from us to catch the light for her on-going work of art.
I hadn't noticed her get on. I only spotted her as I glanced up from the latest novel that kept me occupied on the hour long journey.
Ruth Rendell and yet another crime for Wexford to solve.
By comparison, the young woman who sat next to her and who kept giving her sideways glances, wore no make up at all and I desperately wanted to say to her that she would have benefited from a little colour in the drab, colourless face that seemed to be in need of moisturiser at least; for it was an attractive face with good features but oh so dull and neglected. I wondered why she didn't bother. Was it just that she didn't feel the need to enhance her features? Or that she didn't care?
Was it my imagination or did the woman look uncomfortable as she caught glimpses of the young girl's cosmetic routine?
The masterpiece in the making continued throughout most of the journey. A brush fluttered across her cheeks at Surrey Hills and a lipstick kissed lips that were full and wide at Monument. This I watched through the tiny mirror she held. A teasing glimpse of nose or eye but never a full face...
An old man, leaning his gnarled hands on a walking stick which he balanced between his knees, sat staring. His view better than mine; his rheumy eyes flitted across her face and settled on the array of brushes in her hands with a bemused expression and then lost interest and stared out of the window.
At Town Hall the finished work of art alighted and I was afforded my first viewing - and was disappointed; as one so often is when expectations are high. The young face was too long for beauty and the make up too thick and inexpert and therefore, the illusion of perfection was spoiled.
Maybe without make up she would have been beautiful... ?
Maybe the other woman had the right idea after all but just hadn't taken care of herself. Or maybe her life was a trial that had left its story in the lines of her face.
The young girl's place was taken by an ageing man who looked like an old Rocker. His long grey hair, thinning now, parted in the middle and tied back. Tattoos peeped above his worn shirt collar and his features looked haggard and worn with age and life in general.
He totally ignored his surroundings and immediately sat and began prodding impatiently at his phone, the screen seemingly unresponsive and I thought -
'You should have bought an iPhone'!
Tuesday, May 8, 2012
Double Take
I took my camera on the bus with me this morning. I often see things unusual or snap worthy but typically, because I had my camera, there was nothing of note to shoot.
There are always great characters on the bus itself but I dont want to annoy anyone and end up with my camera wrapped around my neck or find myself ejected before I actually want to get off!
Perched on a bus is really a great way to see life and the people and objects that make it interesting.
Passing through the suburbs and into the city; the surroundings are teaming with great characters, beautiful old buildings and some unbelievable sights!
One in particular I recall because it was one of those moments where you do a double take in disbelief and then wish that you hadn't!
One morning, travelling into the city around 7am and surprisingly wide awake, I looked up from reading a book on my iPad, about life in North Korea (a bit heavy for so early in the day I admit) and saw a man, a derelict, hunched between two vans just across the road. I glanced back at him to see what he was up to - and then, because I didnt believe what I seeing, I did the regrettable double take...
Having no access to the usual 3 'S's" The shower and shave being the first two - he was observing the third option and taking a dump!
In the doubtful privacy of the space between the two vans and seemingly oblivious of passers by who didnt seem to notice him either, he squatted, native style!
Scarred for life, I shuddered and returned to my reading....
I have no idea what I read for the rest of journey!!
There are always great characters on the bus itself but I dont want to annoy anyone and end up with my camera wrapped around my neck or find myself ejected before I actually want to get off!
Perched on a bus is really a great way to see life and the people and objects that make it interesting.
Passing through the suburbs and into the city; the surroundings are teaming with great characters, beautiful old buildings and some unbelievable sights!
One in particular I recall because it was one of those moments where you do a double take in disbelief and then wish that you hadn't!
One morning, travelling into the city around 7am and surprisingly wide awake, I looked up from reading a book on my iPad, about life in North Korea (a bit heavy for so early in the day I admit) and saw a man, a derelict, hunched between two vans just across the road. I glanced back at him to see what he was up to - and then, because I didnt believe what I seeing, I did the regrettable double take...
Having no access to the usual 3 'S's" The shower and shave being the first two - he was observing the third option and taking a dump!
In the doubtful privacy of the space between the two vans and seemingly oblivious of passers by who didnt seem to notice him either, he squatted, native style!
Scarred for life, I shuddered and returned to my reading....
I have no idea what I read for the rest of journey!!
Sunday, May 6, 2012
Dark Passenger!
Sometimes a journey through life can be a bit like taking a bus in a strange city. You know where you want to end up - but you're unsure which route to take and what changes you have to make on the way.
Sometimes we just take a chance and hope its the right one.
I met a wonderful young woman a year ago who is my inspiration. She made a life changing decision far greater than any I could make and managed to stay on track and weather all the set backs and delays, all the heartaches, and the doubts and the dark moments, with a fortitude and grace only few could muster.
She had a goal and persisted. She had a dream and made it come true!
She's a very private person; which only adds to her poise and I wish her every happiness throughout her wonderful future.
I hope I can apply such strength in my dreams!
But you know some of us take the most ridiculous risks with no thought to others.
Many times have I sat in my seat at the front of the bus and witnessed the craziness of other drivers in regard to the buses.
How many times have I lurched forward as the bus executes an emergency stop because an idiot has veered his car in front of the bus so that he can make a left turn, just as the bus pulls away from a stop! Do they have a death wish?
Its like a scene from a movie where the baddie does a handbrake turn in front of a truck to avoid the cops!
Have they any idea of the momentum of the bus and how hard it is to stop dead!
Do they realise how much carnage they could cause?
Besides the risk to all the passengers. Especially me,perched in the front there; avoiding my travel sickness only to be wiped out by an idiot who can't wait 10 seconds for the bus to pull away safely!
I feel such compassion and yes, anger for the bus drivers who deal with these idiots day in and day out.
The front of a metro bus is made so that it will collapse on impact to absorb the collision. But it will still be decorated with your brains if you persist in doing this crazy manoeuvre?
But perhaps they'll function better in jar anyhow?
Sometimes we just take a chance and hope its the right one.
I met a wonderful young woman a year ago who is my inspiration. She made a life changing decision far greater than any I could make and managed to stay on track and weather all the set backs and delays, all the heartaches, and the doubts and the dark moments, with a fortitude and grace only few could muster.
She had a goal and persisted. She had a dream and made it come true!
She's a very private person; which only adds to her poise and I wish her every happiness throughout her wonderful future.
I hope I can apply such strength in my dreams!
But you know some of us take the most ridiculous risks with no thought to others.
Many times have I sat in my seat at the front of the bus and witnessed the craziness of other drivers in regard to the buses.
How many times have I lurched forward as the bus executes an emergency stop because an idiot has veered his car in front of the bus so that he can make a left turn, just as the bus pulls away from a stop! Do they have a death wish?
Its like a scene from a movie where the baddie does a handbrake turn in front of a truck to avoid the cops!
Have they any idea of the momentum of the bus and how hard it is to stop dead!
Do they realise how much carnage they could cause?
Besides the risk to all the passengers. Especially me,perched in the front there; avoiding my travel sickness only to be wiped out by an idiot who can't wait 10 seconds for the bus to pull away safely!
I feel such compassion and yes, anger for the bus drivers who deal with these idiots day in and day out.
The front of a metro bus is made so that it will collapse on impact to absorb the collision. But it will still be decorated with your brains if you persist in doing this crazy manoeuvre?
But perhaps they'll function better in jar anyhow?
Saturday, May 5, 2012
Magical Mystery Tour
Life in general has its twists and turns. We don't always take the right route or make the right decisions and faced with an unknown turn in life, its probably best to keep going straight ahead - unless you're sure of a way back...
I've faced a lot of life changing decisions as I've lurched from one adventure to another but one thing I know, is that I expect my bus to go where its says its going and for the bus driver to know where his bus is going too!
A few weeks ago, one bright and sunny morning, I settled into my seat at the front of the bus for the hour long trip to work; within five minutes, I knew the trip was going to be different!
Accustomed, as I am, to the familiar straight route into the city; I was a little surprised when the bus suddenly turned right, across the dual carriageway and into a residential street. The driver continued driving for a few seconds and slowly ground to a halt. He sat motionless and then turning sheepishly to me, gave a little laugh and said, he thought he was driving the 373!
Since the 373 is a small green bus and not a double length red bus and doesn't go this way either, I wasn't quite sure what to expect.
He slowly drove the length of the street until he realised he would have to turn around as there was no other way out except via a small, narrow lane.
With a resigned shrug he said "Bugger, have to turn around" like he was driving a minibus
Have you ever seen an 18 metre metro bus executing a thirty-three point turn? Fascinating!
Thank goodness the people in this street have garages and don't park their cars on the road!
We took out a couple of bins during the manouvres that followed and, though a lot of its twigs travelled some distance with us, we deftly avoided uprooting a tree, by a hair!
I almost clapped!
I certainly breathed a sigh of relief as we approached the dual carriageway once more.
Other passengers in the bus just looked on in bewilderment; heads bobbing from side to side like at a tennis match. Too early for lucid thought i supposed!
The remainder of the journey was almost dull by comparison!
Footnote:
Last night, whilst happily listening to an 'Hercule Poirot' audiobook on my ipod, on my friday night journey home through the city, the bus stopped in Castlereagh St and the bus driver turned to me and asked "Do I turn left down here or keep going?"
I winced slightly, then replied kindly, "Yes, turn left here and then right at the lights and then, just keep going"!
He smiled and nodded and I sighed and went back to my ipod.
Life is never dull on a bus!
I've faced a lot of life changing decisions as I've lurched from one adventure to another but one thing I know, is that I expect my bus to go where its says its going and for the bus driver to know where his bus is going too!
A few weeks ago, one bright and sunny morning, I settled into my seat at the front of the bus for the hour long trip to work; within five minutes, I knew the trip was going to be different!
Accustomed, as I am, to the familiar straight route into the city; I was a little surprised when the bus suddenly turned right, across the dual carriageway and into a residential street. The driver continued driving for a few seconds and slowly ground to a halt. He sat motionless and then turning sheepishly to me, gave a little laugh and said, he thought he was driving the 373!
Since the 373 is a small green bus and not a double length red bus and doesn't go this way either, I wasn't quite sure what to expect.
He slowly drove the length of the street until he realised he would have to turn around as there was no other way out except via a small, narrow lane.
With a resigned shrug he said "Bugger, have to turn around" like he was driving a minibus
Have you ever seen an 18 metre metro bus executing a thirty-three point turn? Fascinating!
Thank goodness the people in this street have garages and don't park their cars on the road!
We took out a couple of bins during the manouvres that followed and, though a lot of its twigs travelled some distance with us, we deftly avoided uprooting a tree, by a hair!
I almost clapped!
I certainly breathed a sigh of relief as we approached the dual carriageway once more.
Other passengers in the bus just looked on in bewilderment; heads bobbing from side to side like at a tennis match. Too early for lucid thought i supposed!
The remainder of the journey was almost dull by comparison!
Footnote:
Last night, whilst happily listening to an 'Hercule Poirot' audiobook on my ipod, on my friday night journey home through the city, the bus stopped in Castlereagh St and the bus driver turned to me and asked "Do I turn left down here or keep going?"
I winced slightly, then replied kindly, "Yes, turn left here and then right at the lights and then, just keep going"!
He smiled and nodded and I sighed and went back to my ipod.
Life is never dull on a bus!
Friday, May 4, 2012
Ticket to Ride
I called this Blog site 'Life is a bus ride' because I thought it had a lot of connotations. Not only do I spend two hours a day on a bus in a work week and see a lot of life from its murky windows that I would otherwise miss - but life in general has a lot of parallels to those bumpy rides.......
When i first started taking the big red M10 bus, the drivers seemed to be regulars. "Good Morning', 'Have a nice day', 'Thank you Driver' became the norm; and though they varied in character and temper as people do; they were, on the whole, pleasant and there have often been amusing moments. Though there was one exception...!
Bruce Willis is the one I could never forget. My heart sinks if i see him at the wheel nowadays; though thankfully, his shifts have changed and he rarely darkens our route.
Not really Bruce Willis of course, but the resemblence is remarkable, especially when he wears a hat...
Does Bruce Willis wear a hat?
Anyway, he does look like him but I'm sure thats where the resemblance ends. The first inkling one gets that he's a tad touchy is the scowl he wears when he has to let passengers on the bus.
Up to that point, sitting in his layby having a rest, he seems quite happy!
But once he starts up the bus, his animus takes over...
A friendly 'Good Morning' is totally ignored. No one gets on if they have a drink or food. School children get a lecture on standing - even if the bus is empty and woe betide you if you attempt to get off via the front doors!
Depending on his mood, he will let you off at your desired stop - or, he may just carry on to the next one and watch you trudging back, with a triumphant gleam in his eye!
Often, when he approaches a stop where a prospective passenger is waving him down, he will carry on past, gaily waving back at them. The look on their faces is priceless!
He hates Taxi drivers with a vengeance and curses them regularly. Cyclists are his nemesis! He edges the bus as close to their back wheel as he dares and then follows them like a kerb crawler. He throws them curses out of his side window and on one occassion yelled "Change F***ing gear!!" before blasting the bus horn at which point the cyclist wobbled precariously and shot up onto the pavement and relative safety!
His favourite trick takes place when the bus is 'standing room only' He kindly allows passengers on to the bus and then takes off at a wheel spin, smirking in his rear view mirror as the people stagger towards the back of the bus like falling dominoes!
How does he keep his job? I can only imagine everyone is too stunned to complain!
When i first started taking the big red M10 bus, the drivers seemed to be regulars. "Good Morning', 'Have a nice day', 'Thank you Driver' became the norm; and though they varied in character and temper as people do; they were, on the whole, pleasant and there have often been amusing moments. Though there was one exception...!
Bruce Willis is the one I could never forget. My heart sinks if i see him at the wheel nowadays; though thankfully, his shifts have changed and he rarely darkens our route.
Not really Bruce Willis of course, but the resemblence is remarkable, especially when he wears a hat...
Does Bruce Willis wear a hat?
Anyway, he does look like him but I'm sure thats where the resemblance ends. The first inkling one gets that he's a tad touchy is the scowl he wears when he has to let passengers on the bus.
Up to that point, sitting in his layby having a rest, he seems quite happy!
But once he starts up the bus, his animus takes over...
A friendly 'Good Morning' is totally ignored. No one gets on if they have a drink or food. School children get a lecture on standing - even if the bus is empty and woe betide you if you attempt to get off via the front doors!
Depending on his mood, he will let you off at your desired stop - or, he may just carry on to the next one and watch you trudging back, with a triumphant gleam in his eye!
Often, when he approaches a stop where a prospective passenger is waving him down, he will carry on past, gaily waving back at them. The look on their faces is priceless!
He hates Taxi drivers with a vengeance and curses them regularly. Cyclists are his nemesis! He edges the bus as close to their back wheel as he dares and then follows them like a kerb crawler. He throws them curses out of his side window and on one occassion yelled "Change F***ing gear!!" before blasting the bus horn at which point the cyclist wobbled precariously and shot up onto the pavement and relative safety!
His favourite trick takes place when the bus is 'standing room only' He kindly allows passengers on to the bus and then takes off at a wheel spin, smirking in his rear view mirror as the people stagger towards the back of the bus like falling dominoes!
How does he keep his job? I can only imagine everyone is too stunned to complain!
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