The Bus Ride

Ok.  Where to start?

With the driver I suppose ... no, wait!  Let's talk about the weather first.

I was windy, cold and it was raining. I was at times very nearly blown off my feet and I was very cold.  So cold, in fact, that if I had needed to go for a leek, a search and rescue unit would have had to be called in order to find my todger (hold your thumb and forefinger approximately half and inch apart. That'll tell you how cold I was)!

And it rained! Although just saying 'it rained' makes me feel as if I am doing it an injustice! I mean, I could not see more than 30 or 40 feet through the driving rain and it came down so damned hard that it bounced back up and under my coat soaking my trousers all the way up to my backside. Anyway, it rained!

Right, let's get back to the driver.

He looked thin and haggard and had a Dracula-like V of hair that seemed to creep down his forehead each time he blinked. In my mind I named him Bela (after Bela Lugosi).  After several minutes of our journey, I renamed him Pothole Charlie due to the fact that he successfully navigated his was from stop to stop via every pothole on the road!  And there were many on that thirty-five minute bus ride.

Passengers of note, and there were a lot of them getting on and off, were Mr. Steroid, Granny Gymnast and Goth Girl XXL.

Let me start with Goth Girl XXL.  She wore, as you would expect, those ridiculous boots covered in chrome studs and the clothes in the traditional Goth colour of  black.  Her coat was an old army greatcoat inexpertly dyed ... black, believe it or not. Goth Girl was HUGE ... it is quite possible that there was another X in there somewhere ... so there was little chance of her ever buttoning her coat up against the cold. Beneath her coat she was clad in black T-shirt and black jeans, both seemed to be straining as if desperate to hold her bulk in some sort of shape other than that of a gelatinous blob.
After she purchased her ticket she began to struggle down the narrow aisle to find a seat. Sadly she never made it to a seat as, try as she might, she could not squeeze her bulk through, much to the amusement of my fellow passengers and to her annoyance.  For the remainder of her trip she remained standing, grumbling continuously at the poor standards of our buses.

Next there was Mr. Steroid, or Man-Mountain if you prefer, who sat near the front of the bus occupying two seats with his muscle bound body. Despite the weather, he wore nothing but tracksuit bottoms, a sleeveless muscle shirt and a small (too small for his size) denim jacket that was full of 'designer' holes.  Above the collar of his jacket a huge triangular muscle rose up, eliminating any prospect of a neck, to the base of his skull giving a good indication of what lay beneath his clothes.  Actually, now I think of it, even his ears had muscles!

And last, but not least, there was Granny Gymnast.  She was a small, dinky woman. Frail looking and unsteady on her feet as boarded the bus using a zimmer-frame.  I clearly heard her speak to the Pothole Charlie as she flashed her bus pass.
"Will you wait until I get seated before you drive off?" she asked.
I couldn't hear Charlie's answer, but judging by Grannies smile, it seemed to be the one she was hoping for, so  she proceeded to try and find a seat.
She had hardly managed two tottering steps up the aisle when the bus jerked forward and moved back into traffic.
Grannies zimmer-frame slammed onto the floor at the same time as her feet left it and continued to rise as her head went forwards and down.  She was half way into a perfect handstand on her zimmer-frame when, at a speed you wouldn't expect from a chunk of beef of that size, Mr. Steroid was up and diving towards her,
He caught hold of her with one muscular arm around her almost horizontal waist and pulled her to him.
Goth Girl laughed and shouted "Nice one!" as Mr. Steroid righted granny and assisted her to a seat. He then went and remonstrated with the driver.
Granny composed herself and said "Well that's one that'll  amuse the grand kids when I tell 'em".

At the next stop I had to get off and was thus destined to miss the rest (if any) of the on-board entertainment.

Had I known that bus journeys could be so much fun, I would have never bought a car!