Bus - y

Horror of horrors, there is no hot water in my house. The immersion heater has been leaking for a couple of days and thanks to a supply of towels to rival any health spa, we have managed to save the floorboards - and the ceiling of the room below. His Majesty has battled bravely all day firstly trying to fix the existing tank and secondly by buying a new tank.. the old one refused to be mended.

As I start a new programme of study on Monday evening I needed to go into the city to buy the three set texts. I also wanted a little look at some nice yarns in the department store. H.M. being so busy, I went by bus. After all, it more or less stops at the end of my crescent (street) it would be daft not to take advantage of it. It certainly took advantage of me! The last time I travelled by bus it cost £3.50 for a day return ticket. The driver asked for £6. I had £5 in cash. No matter, I paid for a one way trip, after all I could pop to the 'hole in the wall' and get the return fare when I got there.

By car the journey takes about forty minutes. One and a half hours later and several chapters of Thomas Hardy I arrived, too stiff to move, hungry and needing the toilet. Ah well.

Straight to the cathedral book shop. Oh dear, all of my required texts are sold out. I ordered them and left, passing the 'Big Issue' seller.

" 'Haven't sold one all day love" he said.

I scrambled about in my purse, £1.90 something.

'They're £2.50 love' he added. I told him that I'd pick one up on the way back to the bus stop, walked about 100 yards and thought better of it, returned and gave him what was left in my purse. I may not see him on the way back to the bus stop, and I could get to the bank machine - he couldn't. I didn't take a magazine. They used to be £1. Inflation hits everyone!

No books and no yarn later it was time for the trip home. One bus at 17.31 and another at 18.01. Missed one, too early for the other....ooooh here one comes, 17.50. Work that one out.

Settled into a seat with the Kindle and began to sink into the novel again but the little child in the seat in front began to leap up and down and shriek. He was around two and a half years old with a gorgeous mop of curls and the brightest brown eyes I have ever seen. Mum looked dreadful, exhausted, drawn and ill. She was. Poor lady has the current flu bug. Jamilla and I sang all the way home. We sang about black sheep, wheels on the bus, Postman Pat, Bob the Builder, Miss Polly's dolly, Humpty Dumpty and a host of other top ten hit with tots. Mum took the opportunity to take her flu medication while Jamilla and I took the opportunity to discuss the sand and water play at his playschool. They left the bus in the village before mine, she looking a little better and he waving goodbye. Kindle and I became reacquainted and as I settled back into the story a voice behind me said

'You getting on alright with that darling?'

'A leading question' thought I, and replied ' yes, its great, got it for Christmas. Smashing on the bus. Can't replace a real book though, not the same'. Right answer. Gentleman works for a book distributor. It's always good to agree with people on a bus!

The day had faded into darkness when I alighted just around the corner from my house. H.M. had worked all day on the hot water system and we managed a couple of baked potatoes with cheese before he went to bed. The simple stuff is always the best.

And me? Well, I've been cared for by my lovely husband, mindful that I like to shower in hot water, snuggled by Poppy Chihuahua, I've been 'loved' by a homeless magazine seller and 'darlinged' by a warehouse packer. But most of all, I've been appreciated by a small miracle, a little boy with curly hair and brown twinkling eyes. What more could I want?