Entertaining bus journey

Yesterday morning, on the way back from the supermarket, at a bus-stop and a very attractive well dressed young black woman got on. She showed her bus pass to the driver and explained that it had run out and she was on the way to renew it. Behind her, in the queue trying to get on the bus, were two rotund women, I guess they were about 70 years old. It was obvious as soon as they spoke they were of Jamaican origin.

They were soon in full flow:

“Eh Girl, see she, dam fool think she get on bus with no pass.”

“Eh, you hear she, she say she pass run out on Sunday, she dam stupid ,today Tuesday.”

“Eh, come driver me and my friend wants go home, man this shopping heavy”.

“Dam stupid girl”.

Under the barrage, the young woman made a sheepish retreat off the bus.

For the next five minutes I heard outbursts from the back of the bus.

“Eh, Girl you see her coat, these young girls spend all money on cloths, and think driver give them free ride, dam stupid”.

They only stopped talking about her when the bus got caught in a traffic jam.

“Eh Girl, me wants to get home, where all dis traffic come from?”

“Me not know”.

After nearly half an hour of stop start progress, the cause of the traffic jam came into view. Four yards before traffic lights at a very busy road junction a car stood three feet out from the pavement. So instead of two traffic lanes at the lights there was only one.

“Eh Girl, dam stupid place to park car”.

“No Girl, car must have broke down.”

Next thing an old man came doddering and farting along the pavement. He tried to open the door of the car but it was locked. Next thing he started knocking the window, to wake his wife to open the door. The grumpy old fart had parked in the middle of the road while he had gone to the Post Office. My efforts as a Grumpy Old Fart to annoy people in supermarkets shrinks into insignificance compared to his actions.

Isn’t it nice to think, that even though you are in your twilight years, you can still bring traffic in a large city to a crawl.

Visit to Post Office

You miserable lot! Here I am on my death bed, and not a bunch of grapes from one of you. Not even a pip. Thanks very much, I don’t think!!!!

Don’t tell me I’ve heard all the excuses before. You couldn’t get near the fruit stall for all the old age pensioners and their shopping trolleys.

Really been suffering, hallucinations had a terrible vision of Gordon Brown having sex - like a slug slithering over a tomato. Grateful it wasn’t Margaret Beckett, those teeth nibbling on a carrot.

Sunday morning, temperature, not up to having my Sunday morning cuddle. “Up”, at my age, that word gives an inaccurate description irrespective of my temperature. But its nice to give the wife a cuddle on a Sunday morning, keeps her happy. And when she’s happy she lets me use her computer. Everything is hers, until it breaks down and I have to pay to replace it.

Hope I’m better by tomorrow; have to go to the Post Office. Before I would say “nipping to the Post Office”. But I can’t nip anymore since they closed the two sub-post offices close to us. Now it’s a case of organising an expedition to the main Post Office in town. Main Post Office - that’s a laugh. The Old Post Office building is now a wine bar, the Post Office is now in a shed!!

Expedition is the correct word - it’s like Scott going to the Antarctic. There’s the journey there for a start. Then you got to take all the camping gear and provisions you will need for the days you spend in the queue. Last time I was there, there were so many Policemen; I thought I had walked into a robbery. Turned out the woman at the front of the queue had been there for four days and her daughter had reported her missing.

What happens when you finally get served? Asked for a book of stamps. Woman behind the counter asked if I was going on holiday. Thought “how nice and polite, what a change an assistant who is pleasant”. Wrong, it turned out she wanted to sell me travel insurance. When I told her I wasn’t going anywhere, she asked if I had thought to switching to Post Offices Telephones. I only wanted a book of second class stamps (second class- I’m not going to pay more for them to lose my letters). Well I think they get lost - I never get replies to all my letters of complaint.

(Tip don’t send e-mail complaints they only have to hit the delete button. Always send a letter, that way they have to go to all the trouble of opening it before throwing it in the bin. Also if the company has a free mail address use that - that way you save on stamps and they pay for your letter - at least you get a little bit of revenge).

Now what was I going to say? It’s gone clean out of my head. Perhaps I’ll remember latter.