15 Dec

Hello, you.

Last time we spoke was, my gosh, when was that? Bloody ages ago, that’s when. I can’t even remember what I said that time. I can’t even remember the blog address so that I can check what I said. Whoops.

Anyway, I have a job these days, and I’ve moved out of the flat I’d been living in for 5 years to start a new, fresh challenge elsewhere. It’s been alright so far. People said to me “Hey you! Don’t move to Govanhill! Murder capital of Europe! It’s full of immigrants!” and other such delightful nonsense.

The reality is, it’s been great. A new part of town, everything’s new and shiny, and my local supermarket is a Lidl, which means that for the first time since 2004, I can now do a weekly food shop for under a tenner.

Even the bus drivers are friendlier. As some of you may remember, I am not a big fan of First Glasgow buses. They’re overpriced and don’t give change. However, getting the bus home the other night, I think I’m warming to them.

I jump on the bus. “Hello” I said. “How much to Victoria Road?”. The bus driver replied £1.80, which to me meant two quid, as they don’t give change. A quick fumble in my pocket confirmed I only had a pound anyway, so I apologised for wasting his time and turned to get off. “Wait!” he said. “90p”. He was halving my fare! AWESOME. The ticket was printed, and it said “Eglington Toll”, which is fine by me as it’s only a 5 minute walk from my flat.

The bus arrived at Eglington Toll, and I proceeded to alight. “Thanks!” I said, cheerily going about my business.

The bus driver was having none of it. More worryingly, neither were my fellow passengers. “Where are you going mate?” he asked. “Err… I’m getting off here?” I replied. I’m not fooling for the old trick of overriding my journey, and getting fined a million quid. Not again.

“He lives just by me” a lady piped up at the back. “I’ll get him home”.

It’s worth pointing out at this point that I had never seen this woman before in my life. She was short, in her mid 40s, but even then seemed to have aged prematurely. I suspect she had been to a drinking den. Nowt wrong with that, of course. I had too.

The driver took me up the road a couple of stops. “STOP!” shouted Mad Lady Aged 43. “He lives here!”. For the point of factual accuracy, readers, that wasn’t true. I didn’t. I lived elsewhere, but luckily my valiant bus driver had taken me vaguely in the right direction, even though I wished he hadn’t.

“Thanks!” I said, and I jumped off the bus. So did the woman who I suspect had more cats than Cats’R’Us – the world’s largest cattery. She proceeded to walk me down the road. There was only one thing for it. “Look over there!” I shouted. “That’s Donny Osmand!”. If there’s one thing I know, it’s a middle aged ladies weakness. She only turned round for a split second, and if I’m honest, she did so probably because of my excited and exaggerated pointing rather than the unlikely sight of a faded child singer in a rough part of Glasgow. However, that split second was enough. I fled. “Thanks for the directions!” I shouted, and I ran down Calder Street, deliberately the wrong way so that if she were to follow me, she’d get lost.

I ended up going to a late opening corner shop and buying a tin of those “Hunger Breaks”. Not bad, I thought as I chowed down after an exciting bus journey of mystery and mayhem.


One Response to “I’VE BEEN BUSY, OK?”

  1. MrTheKidd December 16, 2011 at 7:56 pm #

    I wish London bus journeys were that exciting, the best I can offer is a stand-off between a drunk and a bus, and a bus driver shouting top-self profanities at a driver he was cutting up. Other than it’s typically drunk girls not paying as it’s their birthday (bus driver turns off bus) or a screaming child attracts several thousand murderous stares.

    Oh for a friendly bus ride with no screams or booze.


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