About This Blog

This blog was originally started as a thread on the forum pages of an animal rescue site. Now it's here!

The articles you find in here are purely for entertainment (yours and mine) and (with one or two exceptions) are all tongue-in-cheek chronicles of the World (my bit, anyway) as I see it.
No disrespect is intended towards anyone unless I make a mistake and make it too obvious.

I hope you enjoy my offerings. Feedback and comments of any kind are welcome.

Thursday, 12 July 2012


So once again, after a nearly three month wait, I found myself back on a bus!

Now, you know what a bus looks like on the inside ... they are all fairly similar; two or three inwards facing seats, the others facing forward on the left and right along the length of the bus with an aisle in the middle ... so I won't bore you with intricate details ... although I think I just did.

What most buses have in common are those poles from ceiling to floor at the aisle-end of alternate seats.

I never, ever, sit on those seats if it can be at all avoided.

It's all because of odours.

Vile, stinky, smelly, cheesy armpit odours!

Y'see, everyone, except the real oldies on the bus, will get up and start walking to the front whilst the bus is still in motion.

This means that the poles are used as support.

This means at any given time during a bus journey, at least one disgusting armpit will hover above your head, sometimes for minutes at a time, until the bus stops and they get off!

Today ... wouldn't ya just know it ... the bus was full to bursting and I ended up in one of the aisle seats with a pole.

Three times (Yes, three!!!) a passenger of dubious personal hygiene stood above me allowing their nausea inducing 'scent' to drift over me.

In my profession I have to deal with some pretty stink situations ... but those armpits!!!!

Although it was now several hours ago, the memory of those smells are still with me and I fear that I may have been scarred for life!

Anyway, all that aside, today we were also treated to a floor show of sorts.

The 'performance' came from an elderly man in an over large quilted jacket. He sat on an inward facing seat directly behind the driver and was what I could only describe as a 'serial gesticulator'. That is to say, that whatever seemed to be going through his mind was 'enacted' with a series of arm/hand gestures and finger twitching.

At first it was merely amusing, but then the bus was delayed when we encountered a dustbin truck that was blocking the street ahead of us.

Quilted-jacket-man jumped to his feet, his arms waving wildly and his mouth silently, but with an aggressive expression on his face, spouting obscenities at the crew of the dustbin truck.

When we eventually managed to pass them, he began tapping his watch, indicating the delay that they had caused, and offered up that age-old British silent comment; the two fingered salute*.

Minutes later there was another delay and Quilted-jacket-man responded by instantly leaping from his seat (where he had bee silently gesticulating) and moved to the front of the bus, his arms flailing as he displayed his displeasure.

This time, however, the object of his silent rage thwarted him, and he was forced to take his seat, head bowed.

This time the delay had been caused by pall bearers loading a coffin into a hearse!

The passengers sniggered.

"Bastards!" said Quilted-jacket-man.

From than on, he was silent, but continued to gesticulate as if his life depended on it.

*the British version of 'The Finger'



  1. They refer to these people you're describing as the "salt of the earth," but to me they're just salty.

  2. Replies
    1. If only! The suspension on my car has just given up the ghost.


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