If like me, you’ve come across plenty of times when you’re waiting for what seems a millennium for a bus these days you’ll understand the dying urge to get home rather quickly. Very few times have I encountered such a thing, when a bus driver drives quicker than a shooting star to my destination. Today is not that day.
I’m on the bus. Problem: its slow and annoyingly moving slower than a rare breed of snail stuck on glue. Thus proving the chances of me getting to my destination in rocket speed is unlikely. However I have Twitter, comical tales from email and work to laugh over and a vision of a glass of wine to soon be in my hand. That alone sends gives me a smile worth smiling about. I may even jump off the buss like Tigger does when I get to the other end. A bouncy bouncy thought that makes me squeal to myself in delight.
I sometimes get myself overly annoyed about the problems with the TFL that can stretch from the double decker bus to the underground and whole-heartedly haven’t complained about it as much as I have done in recent weeks. Yes I moan about the constant fiasco that is the National Rail, but I assume its because Isleworth is just not as up-to-date as Richmond or Clapham as I might have hoped. If the buses can’t perform on a regular basis how in sweet magnolia are they going to cope when the world arrives on our doorstep for the Olympics? Saying that, how will the whole of the transport network cope with it? Something maybe I should question when it happens. For the moment, thinking only of passing buildings and that large glass of vino are the only thoughts I should and will now concentrate on to make this journey quicker. It’s like I can taste the sweet rose already-just wait Dannii, it will happen soon.