I hope we're all doing well? I for one am not; I have come off an epic hangover into a state of actually being ill, only to be stressed by the insane amount of work I have to do. The usual apologies for not writing another post more recently apply; I am ridiculously busy this year; alongside the degree, I'm volunteering twice a week at a Youth Centre, still helping out with our university's RAG when I can, being on the committee of our course's society and acting in the Amateur Dramatics society (which coincidentally is chaired by the lovely Kirsty Woods, who has only gone and fractured her elbow, so she gets some special blog not-hate!). Suffice to say, I am knackered.
However, fear not, as I have a blog post for you today! As I say to all the ladies, it may not be particularly mind-blowing, but it's what I've got and damn it I'm going to do my best. Sorry Tom Moyser, but this probably isn't actually about anything!
The volunteering I do requires me to make a 30 minute bus journey to get to the Youth Centre, which is almost an adventure in itself every time. I just find it fascinating watching all the different people that get on buses, and it never seems to be the same ones. I've had the same driver a couple of times, but otherwise I've recognised very few regulars. Now I will probably sound like some sort of crazed stalker who collects photographs of random strangers, but I find it fascinating watching and listening to these people sometimes. Many of them seem to have no decorum whatsoever when it comes to private conversations; they will shout out things such as who is shagging who at work with reckless abandon! Lucky for me, as I was totally shocked to find out Jenny was having a thing with Tom, the bitch.
More often than not there is a man in his late teens/early twenties in trackies and with music blaring so loud that I'm pretty sure the bus driver can hear it. This itself is not a crime I suppose, everyone is allowed to express their individuality, and that's totally fine and brilliant and all that. I love weirdness and weird people, such as the Big Issue seller I once saw in Birmingham chasing after someone, and another who sang to people. But this grump-faced adolescent was most definitely listening to N-Dubz, which is not particularly pleasant when you're on a very quiet ferry ride in which everyone stays effectively silent. Apart from Jenny and Tom's workmates of course, who continue their conversation regardless of the fact that the entire bus can hear it.
My particular musical favourite however, has to be the bus driver I had last week who was definitely playing some sort of 1920's crooning song, followed by a bit of Snow Patrol. This was also the man covered almost entirely in old tattoos, and possibly one of the friendliest and most polite driver's I have ever had, even offering me a cup of tea while we waited for the ferry (as I was the only one on the bus). It just goes to show that not every bald, bulging-eyed, tattooed old man is scary; some will offer you tea, even if their musical repetoir isn't good enough to include N-Dubz.
However, none of it beats the time I was gazing upon a book of poetry down my bespectacled nose, and looked up to notice the woman next to me reading from a similarly pretentious-looking novel. We exchanged a brief glance and a nod of acknowledgement at our mutual awesomeness. I certainly felt like an upstanding twat of society that day, I can tell you.
I'm going to leave you with this image, for the pure and simple fact that it cheered me up, and hopefully will do the same for you:
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| I'm always the little dog... |
Night everyone!
~ Toby
1 comment:
There was rohypnol in that tea.
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