I think I was the only person smiling this morning at Victoria Station.
I step in and I notice that something is different with this bus. The chairs have another colour, and it looks like a newer model. Well they have to spent the excessive amounts of money we pay them to travel around in London on something I thought, they have upgraded the buses on line 88. Well, well.
I continue to read in my book.
He is a huge man, filling nearly two seats in the bus. Bold head, and in both his ears a golden earring. He reminds me of Whitey. I assume he is Irish seeing as how his mobile phone chain has Ireland written all over it. On the big fingers of his hands I count, and recount in amazement : 15 golden rings.
He picks up his mobile phone and starts dialing.
He is a man of little words:
“Make sure there is a beer on the table for me”
is the only thing he says.
I love the underground, but I do love the red busses too. It’s nice to see the city from above the ground sometimes. I took a friday-evening-bus back home via Trafalgar Square, from Oxford Street. The bus was nearly empty. The bus driver was a friendly guy, and happy to make a conversation. Normally not allowed mind you (“Do not speak to the driver while driving”) but tonight it was OK. He started it himself.