And so it begins...

Welcome to my new blog. It begins as a result of a friend's suggestion that I stop clogging up everyone's Facebook newsfeed with my lunacy and instead confine it to a more containable forum. Well, that's not how she put it, but then again she's a lawyer and we know how often they say what they're REALLY thinking...

I'm going to jump right in with a lovely story. It's called 'Oh For The Love of All That is Sacred, Please Shut Up'. It begins on the 207 to White City, on a Monday morning that was both bright and cheery (stop interrupting, yes it was). All was going well for the gentle commuters, as a soft breeze was playing through the open window and there were actually enough seats for everyone, for once. Some peacefully read books, others watched the world go by through the (fairly) clean windows. The pervading atmosphere was of calm and contemplation. Until the bus pulled into The Stop of Doom. Now, I'm not sure if it's just me that has noticed this stop as particularly portentous of calamity, but I will add the detail that it's VERY close to a very cheap off-licence. That opens weirdly early, it seems. Or they don't mind who they sell nail-varnish remover to outside of licensing hours. Either way, there is often some sort of interesting character waiting at this stop; part of me would like to believe that they lie in wait for my particular bus to pass by so that they may enliven my morning (the alternative is to accept that there are actually enough of them around for there to be one on every bus). Today was no exception. A woman the size of a generous futon lolloped aboard, greeting the startled passengers with a genial wordless bellow. She shoehorned herself into the nearest seat-and-a-half, much to the delight of the girl attempting to sit in the half a seat beside. Having taken a couple of stops to catch her breath, she began humming to herself loudly, and sort of shuffly-dancing with her feet. At this point, I began to wonder if she couldn't help her unusual bus-entering caper. However, at that point she yawned, and melted the eyelashes off all of us sitting within 10 meters of her. Ah, so this was 70 per cent proof, self-induced crazy then. As I was absorbing this fact, and trying to find a facial orifice out of which it was safe to breathe, she suddenly lunged forward and tapped the shoulder of the bloke in front of her. He was attempting to listen to some music, and so it took her a couple of seconds to get his attention, by which time she was quivering with excitement. 'Yes?' said our intrepid businessman, pulling an earbud to one side. 'ILIKEYOURSUIT' came the reply. 'Pardon?' 'ILIKEYOURSUIT, BUTYOURHAIRISGREASY!!!' The man looked blank and said 'Uh, thanks for that.' I inwardly applauded his succinct response.
The woman amused herself for the rest of the journey by reading a magazine and telling the air about her personal life. 'YOUDON'TWANTTOMEETMYBROTHER!! HE'STRYINGTOGETMARRIEDBUTHEHASATEMPER.' Then an article in the magazine would catch her eye 'CHEATING ON HIS WIFE??! FOR F**KING WHY?!!' I was quite touched at her indignation for the unknown wronged woman, until I noticed she was holding the magazine upside-down. Ah, so that was just the crazy talking, then. She also began an argument with a man who had sat beside her, and who had and become understandably irritated with her constantly nudging him in the side as she completed some sort of interpretive dance. The argument ended with her accusing him of being a child-abuser, at which point he quietly moved to a seat far away.

I left the bus during her rousing rendition of 'Everybody was Kung-Fu Fighting', complete with tuneless, high-pitched screech where the instrumental riff would usually be. And several racial slurs that certainly weren't in the radio edit.

Oh well, at least it wasn't a boring commute...