It may simply be that I should never leave the house. Jake and I can muddle along here, quite contentedly, with our long sleeps and short walks. A few phone calls, maybe an email or two- safe, uncomplicated volunteering.
A few weeks ago we had the driving miss ditzy and mr david event. Yesterday, there was a bus crisis. It seems that rare disease volunteers cannot travel without incident.
The morning had gone well. A perfectly acceptable bus journey, a positive meeting, a yummy lunch, a warm glow.
The bus for the return journey was crowded and cramped, but we were well fed and happy, We missed the warnings that the day was about to go downhill.
A phone call meant that one of us went into Fix the World mode. She was busy. Another of us planned a pampering night out. The third twisted and turned and counted down the minutes until she could sleep in front of the fire (guess who?)
The morning bus hadn’t stopped along the route-we were none too impressed to discover that the afternoon bus had scheduled stops. The time until home stretched.
Why are we heading back towards Dublin? Would it not have been easier to head to Belfast? Odd, but OK.
My painkillers were having no effect. My head was pounding. I was sore. It got very warm. Clammy, even.
The bus stopped (is that even a bus stop?) to let people off and I made a charge for the fresh air. It was not enough.
Tea time traffic in Banbridge ground to a halt as the badly parked bus waited on me to finish. Seasons probably changed in the time it took my stomach to empty. And then I had to gather my dignity about me, wipe away any dribbles, and get back on the bus. Thankfully, Auntie Sadie had sweets.
The pampering night out began to recede from possibility, but at least we were on our way. Hurrah.
We sailed past the big shopping centre and on to the motorway, causing some consternation to fellow passengers who’d planned on getting off there. There were terse phone calls to irate spouses. A few minutes later, we came off the motorway again. Are we going into Lisburn instead?
No. No… oh. Why are we going up this road? We don’t want to go to Saintfield.
A big bus. A narrow road. Lots of traffic (who did want to go towards Saintfield). The bus turned round. Slowly, with plenty of stooping and starting. We went back to the shopping centre, dropped off a few people and headed back towards Belfast.
We did wonder where we’d end up, especially when we went past the entrance to the bus depot.
We took the long way round, but got where we needed to be, a long hour after we’d hoped. Phew. Thank goodness it’s all over. Home called to us all.
Chairperson was bringing me home. We were too exhausted to be giddy with relief. All we had to do was pay for the parking and head off.
Chairperson is lucky to have survived. As she pottered away from the pay station, a car roared into the carpark. A blink of an eye lay between her being shaken, and her heading over the bonnet.
Lying down in a darkened room beckoned.
Our bus driver didn’t have a uniform- never get on the bus if the driver doesn’t wear a uniform. Too much adventure.