|
Perhaps public transport issues are a particularly British issue.
Because we rely on them to such an extent, it doesn't take much to make us mad as hell.
When my bus was running late this week I completely freaked out. Not to the driver, but I had trouble holding things together. Okay, extenuating circumstances - money issues, a connecting coach to catch, non-refundable coach ticket, mother going into hospital and relying on me to be there when I said I would, being a complete nutter.
But after I stopped crying I did secretly send death rays into the heads of everyone who got on and questioned the driver as to why the bus was late.
I wanted to scream at them for holding us up even further!
This is neither against or in support of Be-Bop or Glatt.
I suppose I'm just saying that buses are hell-wagons laden with grief, but also that it's easy to slightly exaggerate.
__________________
Life's hard you know, so strike a pose on a Cadillac
|