The watery sun tempted me to strive for the big town today so placing several shiny shillings in my pocket I hurried of for the bus. The journey was slightly longer than usual as the early twentieth century roads struggle to cope with twenty first century traffic, especially as Farmer Jones on his tractor or his wife on the Landrover doddle along the road with no sense of hurry about them. On top of this the stupidity of speeding motorists who consider crashing into any oncoming traffic, motorbikes, cyclists or horses a sensible thing to do when all it does it kill one or two bend your car and cause massive hold ups for miles along the way beats me. Today we only had a tractor or two hindering progress but come harvest time huge machines jump from field to field grabbing crops and annoying bus passengers.
I made it however with only a few minutes delay and immediately sped for the charity shops, I, you see, was after a new summer type jacket on the cheap. One such shop out of many investigated offered the perfect jacket! A darkish gray corduroy jacket in immaculate condition. One thing spoiled it all, it was one size too small! I replaced it unwillingly and noted the 'half price' ticket reading £2:50. I would gladly have paid £5!
The rest of them offered nothing for me and a rushed chase through the chain stores discovered only hugely expensive items near the mark and a disappointing array of summer apparel aimed at the colour blind and stupid! How anyone could wear most of what was on offer let alone pay the price required had me heading back to then charity shops. I note that 'Harris Tweed' jackets were available also in several shades, for a mere £195. I could buy a house on Harris for that!
I returned to the crowds who walked slowly in front of me, turned right or left with no consideration, blocked the path while staring, gossiping, seeking directions or just lost in space. With my usual grace I kicked them out the way.
Naturally the watery sun had left us with watery rain. This pleased me no end so I climbed back on the bus, having been caught between two stops when it approached, and rested my now aching hulk on the top deck. The timing was good as no kids were on this time. Half term sees mum drag the brats onto buses to share the pleasure of their company. I found sharing the pleasure easier when they stay at home. Cogitating on the near miss with the jacket I pondered as to why jackets suitable for men of a certain age cannot be obtained these days. Thousands of other types are available, like the one I was looking for last year and could not find, but cord jackets cannot be obtained outside of charity shops. That's at least three times this has happened to me, good job I am not one to complain.
Lashing rain came down so hard at one point it began to leak through the roof of the bus. Quite how it got in i could not see but the few of us up there managed to avoid it. This is the end of May, just wait till 'Blooming June' arrives and then we will see rain!
We turned off the road to trundle through a small addition to a small village. This comprises several streets of 1960's style houses, three or four different types on view, most of which featured large windows to let in light and all of which wore net curtains to keep it out! I cringed at these little boxes. These are in themselves nice wee houses right enough, probably nothing in themselves worth grumbling at, but it is the number of them, in all the streets, the sheer boring nature of developments like this make my skin crawl!
Now I realise many have old folks wasting away their lives here, surely life has more to offer? Others might have young families growing up in safety, but it's so boring! This small, neat estate may well be safe, secure, and near to town but it would not suit me, or indeed most of us.
I realise also that the lives behind the lace curtains may not be so quiet, wife swapping, demon worship, psychopathic killers, and would be accountants dwell in them thar places. Several of the neighbours will not talk to one another, some are alcoholics, worse still some are train spotters whose anoracks can be seen drying out in the back gardens as we pass.
I was glad the bus moved through without stopping, just in case one of this lot wished to get on! The sight of proper houses dating back several hundred years, maybe more depending on the condition of the paint on the house, was a delight and heartening after the sheer boredom of such housing estates.
No excitement tomorrow, just two cup finals to watch as I rest my bones.