Cumbamear

I picked up my magazine, switched on Baddeal & skinner and left work after a tiring day of buying and selling (hopefully from that opening you think I am some kind o high powered stock trader) (maybe I am), ready for a relaxing bus ride home (a stock trader taking the bus! Whatever next), of course this did not happen.

As I approached the bus stop I saw my bus friend and my heart sank. When I initially realised that some one I knew travelled on my bus I was excited, I had some one to talk to during the hour or so ride home, some one to share my bus stories with and maybe an ally against the abysmal passenger services that we receive on a daily basis. At first we used to act as acquaintances do, occasionally talk but more often than not just sit listening to our ipods, because we knew we had nothing to say. At some point I don’t know when, our relationship developed into a friendship and the talking consequently escalated, it was only when one of us was tired or particularly enjoying our tunes that we did not talk. Some how we are now firm friends, whenever we see each other out come the headphones and we engage in conversation. It has become a sort of race as to who can see the other first and de headphone. Then we have The Conversation, The Conversation goes thus, “hi mate how you doing?” good thanx, you?” “Alright” “busy day?” “ No it’s been dead/ yes it’s been hectic” “I don’t mind it dead it means I get to do nothing/ I don’t mind it busy it means I’m not board and we get more sales”. We have had this conversation so many times that either of us can take either role. We then talk about nothing in particular till the bus comes. When the bus comes I get on after my friend, my friend chooses the first seat (the disabled seat, I don’t like this cos I can’t look at the back of other peoples head and I may have to get up and give up my seat to some one more deserving, I don’t mind the getting up, it’s the judging if a person is old or infirm enough to need a seat and not be offended by my offer that concerns me, frankly all the time I’m sitting in the seat so I can never truly relax) he tells me to sit next to the window cos he gets off first (thus trapping me in making me unable to offer my seat to the needy yet just as susceptible to there evil stairs that imply entitlement and hate in equal measure).

So we carried on along our journey magazine resting on the ledge in front ipod nestling in it’s belt cradle, we chatted inanely, I wondered idly how the story of David Baddeal in a roger de corsy mask might finished. Then the bus stopped and the surly central European driver told a woman (Kenyan I would say, by the rich accent and controlled diction) to get off, she said “ah is this Thornbury already” he said “yes” (it wasn’t) she said “ok where is cumbamear?” he mumbled something about end of ticket she got confused and asked if it was Thornbury again he said it was again and said something about the ticket. She asked for directions to cumbamear again he mumbled some more and looked angry. My mate was still chatting inanely about something or other oblivious to the plight of this woman, along with everyone else in the bus, so at this point I was forced by common decency to tell the woman that this was not Thornbury it was in fact Aztec West several miles from her desired destination (the driver did not like this at all), she asked if this was the Thornbury bus as she had been told to get on the wrong bus before and was already quite late. I said it was and that I was going there and I would tell her where cumbamear is when we get there (cos I get off after that stop) she then sat down, the bus driver told her that she would have to get off, she suggested that if this was the right bus she may have the wrong ticket and would like to pay for the correct one, this idea seamed unusually genius to the driver so he with and expression of bemusement (and a sleigh wicked glance at me) accepted her fair and let her sit down. She told me that he probably should have told he from the start or even when he was about to chuck her off that there was another option, I agreed.

Now this woman is yet another acquaintance keeping me from my ipod, even after my bus friend got off she periodically spoke to me about the driver and to thank me throughout the journey. As often happens on my bus (and maybe yours) people rang the bell and got up to the front in order to get of in a timely manner. One of these was a very nice young lady listening to an ipod, I checked out the ipod (5g white 30gig) and her arse (denim clad, perky but abit petit for my taste) then she turned round smiled and said that she thought that I had been really kind to that lady and just had to thank me, of course by instinct my reply was suave and witty “umm…er… that’s ok thanx” then I smiled she smiled again and got off the bus, I rued my missed opportunity and continued my journey. We got to the ladies stop I rang the bell told her the directions she thanked me, I was finally able to put on Baddeal and skinner, open up my MacWorld and settled down to a few minuets of technophilic delight mixed with world cup based humour. Five minuets later I alighted the bus with one extra enemy but two more friends.