Wednesday, 30 September 2009

Loon on the bus

Crazy bus lady, you must know her. Asian, in her fifties (or maybe younger, she has had a hard life), lots of bags. Big photocopying bill. May or may not be a fan of Dan Brown. Definitely not a fan of the Freemasons. You've seen her, I'm sure. Magic Bus. Stagecoach. Finglands. Telling the tale of her stolen children, of the government's collusion, of the evil of her husband. She has handouts. It's desperately sad.

I was on the top deck of the 86. She came upstairs and started to do her thing. I took out my notebook and started to scribble. I showed what I was writing to my neighbour, who nodded occasionally.

- I feel sorry for this woman
(nod, nod)
- She's so passionate!
(sad nod)
- But nobody listens when you shout. Poor thing. :-(
(nod, knowing smile)

Bus lady stopped, and alighted. My neighbour got off a few stops later. I imagine that, when she got home, she must have said to her flatmates...

"There was a right weirdo on the bus... with a notebook."

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