Short Bus Fridays

Note: It is quite inconvenient not having internet at my home. Hope to have this sorted out v. soon. Well, that and some furniture. (ooh dear. I just had a big deja vu!)
Anyhoo, this post is from Friday...

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Right. So, I accidentally got on the short bus on the way home today.

In order to go and purchase some twigs of a trellis-type construction, I left work early today (since shops close at 5.30, even on a Friday). My destination was one of the worst shops ever, but it was my hope that some of their trellises might still be there since have been unable to find them elsewhere and have decided to make clever window screen so that can keep curtains open yet retain some semblance of privacy (pronounced, ‘priv-a-see’ for the correct effect). Anyhoo, ran out to bus, which then proceeded to sit there for 12 minutes before taking off (‘taking off’ being entirely a figure of speech here).

On the way to shopping centre, bus stops at Norwich and Norfolk Hospital. It sits for a bit. Okay. No problem. However, the problems began when I noticed a bus passing my bus. My bus was the 22. The bus passing and proceeding to the next stop was also the 22. That 22 then collected some people (happy, no doubt, to be on a moving bus) and departed in a chipper sort of manner; and my bus continued to sit there for about 7 more minutes (all the time, clock is ticking towards closing time, let us not forget).

Finally, my 22 felt able to begin a toddle out of the parking lot (aka, car park). Amusing even, since a large woman who had gotten on at the hospital lost control of her little shopping bag trolley and it rolled madly all over the bus before she could recapture it. Then we turned and wended our way through a neighbourhood on the outskirts, past the Frog Crossing sign, and it was pleasant.

Then things really started to go awry. First, I noticed that we did not seem to be going in the correct direction, because we passed where it seemed we should have turned toward Roy’s (How could it help but be a horrid shop with a name like Roy’s of Wroxham? Roy is a good name for a horse, and perhaps for a cowboy, but not really so much for a shop that hopes to be taken seriously.).

Became more and more concerned as it seemed we were passing stops that were supposed to be post Roy’s. Bus driver then pulled over to bus stop, for absolutely no reason apparent, and sat there for a good 4 minutes. This was in the section of town closest to a ghetto. It is called Humbleyard and is quite unfortunate.

And we rolled again.

After about three minutes, bus pulled over again and sat for a little rest. It was by this point 5.29, but I was remarkably calm and baffled and slightly amused by the whole ridiculosity of the situation. In my subconscious, perhaps I noticed the progressively violent shaking of the bus. P’raps not. Anyhoo, the next time we stopped, the bus driver turned the bus off. And we sat. People started calling people on their cell phones to explain situation (For my part, I was texting Cardiff to keep some kindred spirits apprised of available amusement). Then we started again. Woo-hoo!

Then we jerked through an intersection, around a corner and made it to a dying stop and the next bus stop. Poor driver (except not so poor since he misled me regarding stopping at Roy’s). After a bit of dull attempts to regain power on the bus, we were bundled off and onto the next passing 21 bus (which I was assured went to the shopping centre, even though it was 5.43 by this point). This bus went to Dereham Road and turned right – this meaning it was heading towards the city centre. This the totally opposite direction of Roy’s. So, I gave up at this point.

But wait! There was yet more amusement to be had! At the Dereham Road turn, a lady had apparently turned and mistaken the signal in the middle of the road as pertaining to her (instead of to traffic travelling straight on the Dereham Road). This meant that the bus jutted across all lanes of traffic and no one could go anywhere, least of all the bus. The bus driver honked. He honked again. He laid on the horn. The lady just looked around in circles and waited until the light turned green. The people on the bus were yelling at her. It was all just entirely too amazing. There were hidden cameras somewhere, I swear.

Made it to the city centre (superior sense of direction on my part, no?). Everything was shut, which is really kind of nice when you think about it, because people aren’t slaves to their jobs and can have a life. I do like this.

However, by this point, my feet hurt and I was twigless. So it seemed a good idea to go and have a pedicure to soothe my twigless self. Went to locate a shop recommended to me by my friend at work, Basma. There is a picture of pedicured toes in the window. There is a picture of pedicured feet on a poster inside. Non-English speaker told me they no do peddy-cyure. Argued with him for a few minutes, well not really arguing, more tried desperately to get my point across. Failed.

Walked to Tesco to purchase wine opener for my planned lovely dinner (to reward self for not being overcome by hysterically stupid chain of circumstances and since have had bottle of wine that have been unable to open). Tesco does not have wine openers. So, I had to sift through and select screw-tops (this is really not so bad, but it does diminish the ceremony of the bottle).

Now, I shall cook my din-dins and watch James and the Giant Peach.

Happy Short Bus Friday!


Cultural note: in the US, the term 'short bus' refers to the school bus that carries persons with special needs to school. They are generally half the length of a normal Big Yellow School Bus (which is actually kind of orangey).