The value of Sorry?

A snip-it of conversation overheard on the bus set me thinking.

The father of Madeline/Matilda now has two children to escort on the morning and the addition of little brother has changed the dynamic.  I don't know who did what to who but the comment was..

"Sorry is not always enough, your actions are important. "

It set me thinking, of the situations when sorry is enough and when a phrase my friend taught her son when he began to think, as children often do, that sorry was a magic word that would excuse anything and everything.

"Don't say sorry, just don't do it!   

Anyway back to my mulling, someone steps on your toe, ouch and annoyance follow, nothing said by the stepie and both feelings continue even escalate.  However, a simple sorry and the reply of "its OK" pops forward with total honesty, annoyance dissipated even if the toe still knows it was stepped on.

Simple mistakes and an equally simple sorry in the early stage is enough however, without that first acknowledgement things can escalate till sorry is no longer enough.

For many actions true contrition is not in words but in deeds, cessation and reparation. Bus Dad's words can be taken two ways here, a sorry for deliberate actions has no value as it is not meant, rubs salt in the wound and is in no way suggestive that the offence won't be repeated, even indicating the opposite is probable.  Or sorry is of limited value if it is not accompanied by an act to put right what was being apologised for.

As we get into an ever more litigation fuelled society people are more reluctant to offer that first take the sting away sorry, lest it be a gateway to the compensation bandwagon.

Are we loosing the value of a heart felt sorry?

And did Bus Dad's sage words have a profound impact on his charges.  It was not evident as further complaining, whining and blaming followed from both children..ah well perhaps if he keeps at it!

The other way lady

Now each morning as I was getting onto the first bus there was a lady getting of, nothing odd about that.

Each evening after I had disembarked from the last bus of the day and started walking home I would pass the same lady on her way to the bus stop.

Hence my mental name for her, the other way lady as she is always going the other way to me.

Until recently I had thought she must have an even longer day than me, assuming that she boarded the bus at the beginning of its route. The error of that assumption became clear one morning when I thought I must have dawdled in my walking to the bus stop and missed the bus as I passed the other way lady with a third of my walk still to go.  However, the bus had not yet arrived and indeed I had the usual few mins wait.  Perhaps she had a lift (a topic for another time, the lift) that morning and I gave thought to the rest of the day and left the change simply at relief for catching the bus.

The next day we passes at the same point and the day after I was closer to the bus station and could see her approach it from the other side, ah ha she was now walking a greater part or perhaps all of her journey. So perhaps her travelling day is actually shorter than mine, I still wonder where she is going as she purposefully strides the other way.

Evolving views.

Daily travel can act like time capture filming. Or for those of us with a few more years in our dish flicker books.

Each day seeing the same thing over and over, yet not the same thing as there are slight changes that only gradually impinge on my conscious mind.

Over the years I have watched houses be demolished, oh and a Church clad for at least six years in a hopeful layer of scaffolding finally give way to a pile of rubble. At the other end I have watched housing estates grow, cricket clubs open and face their final innings.

At the moment it is a housing estate  growing up from the foundations on a green space past which I walk on the way to the bus stop.  Some mornings and evenings I forget to look that way, focused on the journey and not the view, so when next I take a real look the book has flicked the film has moved on and the process appears quicker than it really is.    

As if time wasn't passing fast enough! 

Puddle fun

On the way home, a day of much rain so I know the Big Puddle will be there, I get off the bus to mizzle which gets stronger as I leave the bus station and has worked its way up to deluge by the time I get to the traffic lights.

I am not in a great mood and feeling a bit mopier getting wet as I cross the road however, the rain eases and I look towards the BP.

Standing in the middle of it is a child, a small boy in waterproofs and wellies, a man standing on dry pavement but in arms reach, hand on the child's head. 

Countless are the times I have seen adults trying to get children to come away from a puddle.  Seen them shout, drag and complain, whilst the child can not understand, after all puddles and welliington boots are made for each other.  I expected to see the usual scenario.  I was wrong.

At that moment, a lady passed the pair, and a step beyond, "OK" , said the man lifted his hand from the boy's head and the boy jumped and splashed gleefully in that puddle.  As another person approached within splashing range, the hand gently descended once more to the head and the waterworks paused only to resume once the cost was clear.

It put a smile on my face as big as the Big Puddle, it lightened my step and the rain stopped and the sun peeked out (ok that last bit might have happened anyway and been a weather thing but the timing...) it was a moment of shared joy, the little boy, the man, me and I suspect the puddle was rather liking the love and attention.

A sad journeys end

A day that started out sunny and hot, as evidenced by the open windows now letting in rain I had surprise company on my journey home.

As I read my book, my eye was caught by movement to the left.  A more focused look and I see small black legs moving on my wrist.  I restrained the automatic jerk reaction, no knowing where the what ever it is will end up if I do that.  I move my book into my right hand to get a better view. 

Oh! a sigh of relief, just a bee, perhaps also blown in like the rain I am beginning to notice.  It walks up the length of my hand and back again.  A little worried it will vanish up my sleeve I put my book away and walk the bee from hand to hand.  Occasionally she flutter her wings not an attempt to fly, just a flutter.

A few mins of happily walking the bee, its step to light to be felt, delighted with such close observance with its face I become more aware of the  rain outside getting both heavier and more inside (open window).  I dare not try and push the window shut with bee in hand, that way squashed bee and stung me is a likely out come.  Anyway the bee is getting nowhere so I walk it off my hand onto the seat and get up to deal with the question of the window.

Sitting down (no I did not sit on the bee) I notice the bee has made her way up the back of the seat onto the plastic bit, a flutter to steady is not successful, she looses her grip and disappears out of sight. 

I happily assume flight occurred rather than a fall and get back to my book.

However, it was with some sorrow as I moved to the front of the bus to get of as a few other passengers before me had, that I noticed by the door a squashed bee.  I guess her wings were either wet or worn out or both, but that fall had been just that and either rolling or crawling about the floor an unlucky step and the bus journey was over. 

I know bees have a short life and can console myself with such facts, still it was sad and oddly there was the same element of wonder with Bee as I had with the dear trio many a post ago.  

Bee-ing distracted.

Now if you have read my early posts, very early that is (feel welcome to go look if you have not!) you will know my normal route to work routine.  This summer I have a new distraction before I even get out of the gate.  And I add to my fur feathers and figments of imagination.... insects.

Bees to be exact.  A garden ornament in the form of a tortoise that I filled with hair clippings hoping it might make an over wintering spot for lady birds or some other insect.

However, this spring it appears to have caught the eye of a bumble bee queen as a prospective home. The first time or two a bee appeared to come from that general direction I thought I was mistaken.  The I spotted one emerging, then more and more.

I added a stone slope to make it easier for a bee waiting to get in whilst another got out.  That was getting some use, I would see two or occasional three bees at a time.  As the weather warmed the temperature rising and some of the sheltering plants dying back that count rose to nine as they worked to cool their home down.

The nest (apparently the correct term with bumble bees) must be getting too small as now they are working hard pulling hair out from the various openings on the tortoise shell, swirling the hair and adding bits of this and that scouting out the area around the nest.  I have popped a terracotta flower pot next to some of the construction and wonder if they will choose to expand into that.

So each morning as I step out of the door, as I should be heading for the bus I just can't resist taking a look at the bees to see how they are doing. A moment, a moment more or two or three.  One morning it will be just that bit too long and I will miss the bus.

The internet notes on the bumble bee tells me that come the Autumn the tortoise will be vacated and the chance of it being used in that way again is very slim.  So I shall just have to make the most of it now.

Of course there is the chance that having been the home of a queen the accommodation may appeal to other clientèle in the future..should I put up a sign, Queen Bee stayed here..after all I believe in the power of signs.

    

A new bag!

had a sense of the "family feeling" the regular bus commuters have this morning.

I was passing the time on bus two with my eyes closed, all of a doze but not asleep.  The bus pulls up to a stop, a clatter of small feet and a gleeful voice announced "I got a NEW bag!"

Little pink commuter had a new back pack, almost as big as her and wanted to share her delight with all her bus friends.

Those who joined the bus later and had missed the initial announcement were gleefully appraised of the new addition as she exited so all could share her joy.

Peppa Pig giving way to Minnie Mouse in the bag department, still I hope Bunny is in there perhaps with Chick still enjoying their daily journey.

Three now she will soon not be making the journey to nursery, she may have an alternate journey once school rolls around.  My journey will be a bit gloomier if she stops being part of it. 

Ohps!

Not sure if I have made this clear before but the number of the bus I arrive on and the number of the bus I leave on from my place of work are the same, just they have different final destinations.

They leave from opposite corners of the bright white bus station.

People sometimes get confused, wait at the wrong stop for the direction they want to travel, spot their error when they see the destination written on the front of the bus and troop off to the other end of the bus station.

So when I am waiting for the bus home and someone asks me is this the stop for the bus number I ask them for the end destination to make sure the answer I give is correct in spirit and not just the basic fact.

Except the other day I was a bit tired I guess and not thinking quite so clearly and when asked the question by an elderly lady , does the ? stop here I did not ask the clarifying question and absent-mindedly just said yes.  

Bus arrives I get on and the lady sits next to me and off we go...two stops before the "littering incident" stop she says "excuse me, is this bus going to?"  Oh no it is not! We are going in the opposite direction!

I advise she stays on two more stops were the return stop is directly across the road from the one she will be getting off, and it has seats.  I tell her when and point to the correct stop and ruefully accept her thanks feeling guilty for not checking and a stern reminder to myself not to make that ohps again. 

checking ticket

it has been a long time since a ticket inspector was on the bus with me.  As he got on and started asking to see tickets (which were duly being shown, paper and concession bus passes) and it occurred to me now how is he going to check mine?

The types of ticket I mentioned in a much earlier post and I still have the card version that has to be passed over a reader.  So as my turn approached I fished my card out of its pocket in my bag and awaited the answer with interest.

And the answer is..a hand held scanner in a vivid shade of blue. Ticket validated and the learn something new every day moment was over. 

An unexpected occurance

A few days training required me to alter my morning route into work.  Instead of my normal bus company I needed to use a different carrier.

The number 24 from the central bus stop into a different city change onto the Metro, one change required there then a quick walk to the training location.

On the first day although I managed to arrive at the building on time clearing security made me late so nest morning I thought get an earlier bus to allow for that time requirement.

So I head off for the 23 from the central bus station, as I walk along I pass a bus stop at the bottom of the street, glance at the timetable and note I can get the 24 from here.  Traffic noise behind me I glance over my shoulder and here is the 24 approaching.  Do I stick out my hand? Catch the bus? Heck no I have my minimally active morning brain which has firmly stuck in it's focus"getting the 23 this morning", so I let it go by and as it pulls past my slow brain catches up with the thought of I could have got that bus, duh!

However, as it is a nice warm sunny morning and the walk to the bus station is pleasant, the government recommends the gentle exercise of walking I don't berate myself  and see the funny side.  So I made my way chuckling and at a leisurely pace to my original destination.  Picture my surprise at the 24 still being there when I arrive (it takes me about 10 mins to make that walk), I get on the bus and the driver does a double take,"weren't you at the top stop?" he asks and grins with me as I explain.

So what was the result of the even earlier bus? I arrived good and early and the security took even longer and I was just on time!

Reflections

A bright and sunny morning and the reflection of the trees in the glass of the shelter caught my eye.  As I was a little early there was time to record it.

A little Madeline?

Another child commuter, on her way to school, uniform, hair cut all she is missing is the hat and she would be Madeline from the books.  Although with a red hair ribbon perhaps it would be Matilda?

She travels with her father and most mornings she has a sunny disposition  and a bounce in her step that brightens my mood just to see.

In an odd coincidence her name is the same as the pretty in pink bunny owning commuter, and no it isn't either of the names beginning with M already mentioned.. 

a fortuitous decision

Standing waiting for the bus yesterday morning I was mulling over the mild positives and the minor irritations.  Why at this particular moment this thought ?  Well because the bus I was waiting for was there..it had arrived early all its passengers had got off but it was not yet time for it to depart and nor was I yet able to get on.

Now some drivers are quite content in such a position to let the waiting passengers on and wait for the set departure time in relative comfort.  Such consideration is a mild positive.  Others subject to the compulsion of a smoking habit prefer to use the time for that and leave the bus for a moment or two of indulgence.  That is a minor irritation, a seat so near yet inaccessible.

Now the day before was the first day of the working week for most so the day to buy a weeks ticket on the bus for those that purchase in that unit.  That takes just a little bit longer at each stop a minor irritation such small delays and as I once did the same I have no reason to scorn it as a choice.  However, it had added just enough time for the red bus to be pulling away as the black arrived at the stop I make the change and that was irritating, it is only a ten minuet wait but as I have mentioned before that is my ten  minutes and they all add up.

So yesterday looked like having the same disappointing result, the red bus had left the stop and was a as far ahead as the next set of traffic lights.  Recalling a fellow travellers remark on the same situation previously that the black bus had caught up to the red and passed it I chose to stop on the black bus and find out.

Sure enough at the tunnel style stop, where purple lady number three used to be, the red bus was just sitting, it was obviously a tad ahead of its time at that point and the black bus and I went on past. I  got off at place of the littering incident comfortably ahead of the red bus ready to catch it as it arrived.  I was feeling quite pleased with myself.

That pleasure expanded exponential when I saw the shoe and bag sales lady waiting at the stop.  I have not, since she moved home to cut her journey to work down to one bus from two seen her to talk to, although I have seen her in passing once or twice.  Wide smiles on both our faces we settled down on the red bus, side by side for some concentrated catching up.  She was looking so much happier with a much better work life balance.

Although the journey was not much time at all for our conversation there was still time for laughter and sympathy and I bid her farewell at my stop with a lighter step at the renewed acquaintance and a gentle satisfaction at a decision well made.

This morning? An early seat on the bus and the usual change over point all flowing smoothly but without quite the delight of yesterday.  

A question of windows.

open or shut. When it gets hot or even warm on the bus someone invariably opens a window to let in some air.  However they assume when they get off that the entry of air is still a requirement and rarely shut them again.

Deciding to open a window is apparently a decision easily made but to close it another matter entirely. It appears to depend on a number of factors.  If you saw whoever opened it and they just got off then no problem.

If the window is above your head then no problem, possession is nine tenths of the closing decision .

But if the window generating the gale around your ears is a few seats away or on the other side of the bus, or you do not know which fresh air fiend opened it then the question of right to close is more difficult.

Plus for safely sake you need to wait till the bus has stopped before standing and reaching to close. And there is no subtle way to do it they are quite stiff and shut with a resounding BANG!  Now I am in the main a chilly person who would rather be warm, if there is a draft I am somehow sitting in it. I am cold when others are warm so I tend to rely on hats, scarves and gloves and assume everyone else is a mutant enjoying the freezing gale so mostly I leave the open windows alone.

I think I should go with the BANG perhaps and close them more, let the other passengers sit and puzzle whether to wait till I get off to open them again if they are so inclined..hmm.

The single deck Mercedes buses did not have this draughty moral dilemma, their windows do not open, they are air conditioned and the driver gets to make all the choices then.

In the Pink

both the posts and purple coated lady number number two are currently in that shade. The sight of both is a cheering thing.

In the pink

                                                                                          The posts are a buzz of colour first thing in the morning and wake up my eyes plus the pink arrived as the escalator was fixed and normal service and direction resumed.

Purple coated lady lady turned pink (her new winter coat) because I have not seen her for some considerable time and was beginning to worry rather than wonder, so apparently was she about me. So having our joint fears abated made us both feel in the pink.

Sadly Purple coated lady number three has not been in evidence for some time.

Deed for the day

a good one I hope, today I was both human clock and route map for two fellow travellers. 

Multifunctional me.

When the Up is Down

The escalators at the arrived at work bus  station are up on the left and down on the right as I face them from the bottom.

This week the escalator on the right (viewed from the bottom) has stopped working.  So you would think that there is no Down movement.

You would be wrong, the right escalator has been blocked off to stop anyone risking BIG steps and walking down the frozen escalator and the left hand side has had its direction of motion changed.

So the Up side is now the Down side and there is only Up by the stairs at the far end or the lift.

I have pondered the odd logic of this action and wonder if they think people wanting to leave the bus station (Up) will be in less of a hurry and so can wait for the lift or make the circuitous journey via the stairs.  Those arriving will be in a hurry to catch a bus (Down) and more impatient and likely to complain at any movement delay. 

The jester

this character gets on the return journey red bus.  He likes to tell jokes, not particularly funny jokes or new ones.  His sense of humour is much in common with the naughty sea side postcards.

He know it is not exactly the right place for his colour of humour and professes to both apologise and rationalise his choice in a way that challenges you to comment negatively or object without appearing close minded or overly politically correct.

The Jester treats the world as his audience, willing or not..he does not believe in the privacy bubble, he believes in the inclusivity bubble.  All should have the same privilege of hearing his jokes, and if sitting close enough to catch his eye participating (knock knock jokes are a staple).

He would have done well in the theatre, he has a pleasant tone to his voice and his projection skills are almost on a par with Brian Blessed.  I had evidence of that just this week when I ended up sitting on the top deck of the bus and could still hear him very clearly when he was sitting on the lower deck.

We all have differing thoughts on what is funny and I would guess there are many who will share his, but regrettably as you can tell I am not one of them.

 

The wheels on the bus

go round and round, so we all learned on the red bus this morning.

Little girl commuter resplendent in pink coat, hat and Pepper Pig back pack (were Bunny and Chick inside?) has been learning songs.  Songs she was delighted to share with her travelling companions. And not just share teach, the two ladies sitting in front of me were quite happy to join in.

We had a rendition of more verses than I realised existed of "the wheels on the bus" when arriving at our stop ended the sing a long. Just as we were about to have "Old MacDonald Had a Farm"!

Something to look forward to on Monday perhaps? 

E I E I O.

Enough sense

to come in out of the rain, isn't that how the saying goes.  Well today I wish I had enough sense to stay out in the rain.

There I was homeward bound at the shelter-less middle stop waiting for the second bus and it started to rain, not a deluge but with some intent.  Not a day with waterproofs to hand nor an umbrella ,it having been too windy for those devices for some time now, I resign myself to getting wet.

Then into sight comes a yellow bus, not one of those I normally catch here, a new rout but still with my home destination emblazoned on the front.  Stunned by the rescue from the rain I do not stop to consider the via which is written underneath (who knew buses have scary small print too), out shoots my arm, bus stops to the signal and on I get.

Partway we make a left turn, I know this little deviation one of the other buses makes the little loop through a housing estate then back, nothing major..and it wasn't, but the next several were. Three quarters of an hour later having passed through several villages meandered around multiple housing estates and with views of the coast and we are just pulling into my home town.

In all that time one person got off the bus and no one got on, as there were only two passengers when I joined the bus that leaves two of us as it pulls up one stop before the bus station and idles.  This is the third time the bus has stood passing time at a stop. I am presuming due to the lack of passengers the rout has gone quicker than the timetable (not that I have felt the journey to be speedy and hate to consider just how long it would have been if busy).

This last pause with the bus station only moments away had we journeyed on was too much for my dwindling patience.  Off I got and I had walked as far as the bus station  and reached the first set of traffic lights with no sign of the bus joining me.

So next time I shall have the sense to stay out in the rain for five or ten minuets more and get the next bus due which takes the direct route and leave the scenic one to those with the patience to deal with it. Getting wet is not so bad, after all not being the Wicked Witch of the West I won't melt and on the way home I can get warm and dry once indoors.

A duh! moment, they come to us all....

..so I arrive at the bus station early, pop myself down on my window ledge and set to reading my Kindal glancing at the digital clock occasionally to gauge how much reading time I have left.  Not too difficult as not a very gripping story.

With about a minuet to go I shut down the Kindal put it away in my bag and take out my bus pass.  I look out through the window as that is the direction the bus comes, but it is not easy to see as in the semi darkness the window acts a bit like a mirror and reflects the light of traffic and busses behind me as well as letting me glimpse the oncoming traffic.

As time passes and soon due, turns to due, to late and I begin to wonder if the bus is coming or has there been a timetable change I have not been aware of, my hands start to get a bit chilled so I put them into my pockets while I think what time the next bus option will arrive and will it make me late or not. Continually I look at the time and out through the window as if that would make the bus arrive.

As I do so a yellow bus pulls up, I recognise the number as one I occasionally get homeward bound but have never used for the outward journey.  I will get that one I decide and head for the bus, better to be moving and get a little warmed up and add the experience of the route in a new direction, as I get to the bus I open my bag to get out my bus pass..it is not there!  A quick double check of the compartment it is supposed to be in and..nothing.  I back away from the bus to get better light and make a more careful check.  No bus pass, my bag has lots of compartments, a place for the rarely used mobile phone, a place for purse, kindal, comb, bus pass, lipstick/salve, handkerchief, fold up shopping bag, rain hat and all the other miscellaneous but essential items most women will fully understand and few men grasp the point of.  So feeling rather peeved with myself and on the understanding that I did not have enough real money with me to purchase a day ticket I retreated to my window sill for a methodical take it all out one compartment at a time just to be sure I had not dropped it in the wrong one by mistake, search of my bag.

As I am doing this the bus I was waiting for in the first place arrives..oh this is so frustrating.. I try and think, what did I do with the pass yesterday?  Took it out of my bag and put it in my pocket at the exchange point on the way home, what if I had put it back in my pocket after using it.  Slim chance but I reach into my pocket hoping and yes, there it is just in time to get on the bus and head off to work.

Moving towards my favourite seat I start to think how lucky I have been that having left my pass in my pocket it had not fallen out either on the walk home the evening before or this morning.  Mid thought, I stop with the duh moment.  It had not been in my coat pocket since the night before, I had taken it out of my bag at the bus station ready for the bus to arrive, had it in my hand when I pout my hand in my pocket to warn it up and there it had stayed.

It can't have been more than five or six minutes between my taking the pass out, putting my hand in my pocket and the yellow bus arriving and in that time I had completely forgotten my actions!  I guess I was even less awake than I thought.  Although, and be truthful now, on reading this were you saying dafty it is in your coat pocket or had you forgotten  reading I had taken it out of my bag and it was in my hand?

A quarter of an hour, a quarter of an hour

onwards what a difference it makes.

A change to my routine for a few weeks due to a later than normal start time for work.  A bit of experimentation to see which combination of buses would best suit the new start.

First bus fifteen minuets later than normal, even emptier than the normal bus , the world a bit lighter but other than that not much alteration.

Give it a further fifteen mins and more of a change, more people in the bus station (and I regrettably find myself now feeling proprietorial about my window ledge!) and sight of the poor soul making the first cleaning pass of the day.  Now I think on it there is less mess in the morning to be cleared up now there are no seats,  I guess it was being used for late evening or very early morning junk food feasts judging by the mess often left.  Does not appear to be as popular a venue for that without the seats.

New characters appear to wonder about, a school boy (in uniform) waits each morning for the same bus as myself, not to get on it but to meet his friend. Given it is still an hour and a quarter before school starts, that is arriving early, perhaps a breakfast club?

Setting off with the sky dark blue not black and arriving with the light makes me feel the year is flying by.  Of course by the time I revert to my former hours things won't have progressed that much.

Happily for me so far my seat on the bus is still free and I do not appear to have usurped it from anyone else. Less happily the later start also requires a later finish!

When green amber and red are no guarantee..

as much as I appreciate the pedestrian traffic lights and the guide to safety they represent it must be remembered that as people remain part of the equation it is not a perfect system.

Both the driver and the pedestrian play fast and loose with the rules at lights.  Although it must be said it is most likely the pedestrian who instigator of an incident or not who will loose any resultant altercation.

I am super cautious, I wait for the little green man who lights up after the red light for the cars, and then I look both ways and then cross.  Even this caution is no guarantee, one evening in heavy rain (so I was wearing a white waterproof outfit, top and trousers, so fairly visible) I came to my favourite set of lights.  Pushed the button and waited, the lights changed, amber to red and a white mini van pulled to a stop on my right, I looked to my left no vehicles approaching green man beckoning and I started to cross. Just short of half way I had the strong feeling I should stop, I did and in that moment a grey car whizzed over the crossing from the left in front of me and sped off into the darkness.  The driver of the white van and I exchanged shocked looks and then I finished (luckily) my journey home.

At the T junction lights nearer to the bus stop it is mainly the pedestrians who take the gamble to nip across against the lights, they risk all their future years to gain a few minutes or even seconds.  I refuse to cross unless my little green friend is there.  I get particularly distressed when those flouting the rules do so with children, or pushing a buggy, pram out into the road first.  Oh and the cyclists can be just as bad (the crossing forms part of a cycle path) deciding time after time they can whiz across just as the lights are changing.  So far they have been fortunate and so have I, as I do not want to witness the potential result of such folly.

Given that I use the crossing at least twice a day five to six days a week and most days someone just can't wait, I fear the odds are ever increasing that I will witness an accident there.  

Too early!

I forgot that on 2nd January the bus was on Saturday times so I arrived at the bus station too early. A lot too early as the first bus was not due for almost three quarters of an hour later than the bus I had arrived for.  Of course I was early for even that.

So decisions, walk home wait a bit then walk back or just wait.

Well I was well wrapped up and it was not too cold but standing that long did not appeal. As previously noted no seats here any more and Santa did not bring any new ones for Christmas. However, there was the option of the window sill.  Was it wide enough for a bottom perch, or high enough not to make my legs ache.  Might as well give it a try, if it was no good there would still be time for the walk home and back again. 

So down I sat, and sat I stayed, it was better than I had anticipated and less chilly.  Kindle to hand the time went by and when the bus arrived my knees still worked enough to get up and get on with my journey.

Window sill or seat?

Having tried it once I have used that option since (although happily not for such an extended period of time) mind I would still prefer there to be seats both for my convenience and for those who's knees extra are less likely to respond positively to sill perching.