1. The only bus stop the bus driver will know with any certainty is the one called “City Centre”. Whether the driver will know the locations “Top of the Hill”, “The Supermarket”, and “Just Past Thompson Road” is indirectly proportional to their level of social skills.
2. The number of seats available on the bus when you get on is indirectly proportional to the number of old ladies who will get on at a bus stop after yours, forcing you to stand up.
3. It doesn’t matter how fit or agile you may be, it is impossible to maintain your balance if you are stood up when the bus starts or stops.
4. Pushchairs travel in pairs.
5. It is mandatory for a passenger on the bus to be listening to an album probably called “Sounds of the Apocalypse”.
6. It doesn’t matter how well-behaved a child passenger may be, they will eventually get on your nerves.
7. If you are forced to sit next to someone you don’t know, they will greet you with a look that is the combination of resignation and pure hatred.
8. The back seat is not for you.
9. It doesn’t matter how horrendous the driving may be, you will always thank the bus driver upon exiting.
10. At some point during your journey, you will suddenly notice how intricate the design on the seat cushions are.

And, although it isn’t a rule as such, I would like to point out that “Megarider” is a silly name for a bus ticket.

If I was to get my only news from these letters, this is the knowledge I would have:

• The District Council is pure evil. It is run by thieving, immoral, money-grabbers that do not think twice about any decision they make – especially in relation to planning permission or road conditions.
• The same is true for the Parish Council.
• The worst thing that could ever happen in a village is for a Barbers to be set-up.
• The second worst thing that could happen in a village is for the Barbers to leave.
• Lorry drivers are unable to correctly judge the size of their vehicle, are some of the worst drivers in the country, and routinely and deliberately hinder the lives of as many people as possible by parking their vehicle.
• Two wind turbines equals a Wind Farm.
• It is not necessary to know all the facts as long as you make up for it with adjectives.
• People do not shop at Tesco’s, but Tesco’s likes to ruin people’s livelihoods.
• The police can’t be trusted.
• If a shop builds a wind turbine, the village can legally change its name to that of the shop.
• People only like to get angry about things after they have happened.
• Life is never boring.

Here is a photo I took about 4 years ago:

Notice any similarities?

How do I know which one was taken first? In the colour photo, underneath the north window (the one on the left) is a framed picture. That picture is the black and white one above.

I should point out that I am not annoyed by the copied photo – just surprised.

As a result of going to work, I have also started taking the bus, which has brought about a great amount of stress hitherto unknown to me. It’s not making sure that I get to the bus stop on time, nor is it hoping that there is a seat available (both of which bring about a certain level of stress in themselves). Instead, the hardest part of travelling is getting off the bus.

One can ignore the youths on the back seat hurling abuse at you, or the person at the front merrily spreading their germs through frequent coughing fits, the most troublesome thing on a bus is the little red button with the word “stop” on it.

When do I press? Is now too early? What if I’ve missed my stop and I press it and then I realise I don’t know where I am? What if the button doesn’t work? What if the bus driver doesn’t notice? What if I press it after someone has already pressed, and everyone looks at me like I’m a button pressing maniac?

How can one little button hold so much power?

About 14 years ago I was a member of my local library. I used it quite a lot – I was a big fan of Dick King-Smith books and gradually worked my way through most, if not all, of them. I was bit too much of a fan, and sometimes returned them late. However, one day, I decided not to return the book at all. It was a book called “Ace” – it had a brightly coloured cover and looked nice on my bookshelf. Apparently libraries took this crime fairly seriously, and I received a letter to say that I had been banned from the library service indefinitely. I was mortified. Nobody believed that it would last very long. When I was 18 I tried to re-enroll – but was denied due to a “previous lack of compliance with library standards and rules”. One can only assume that Dick King-Smith books are very precious to them as well.

Why am I telling you this? I am writing this in a library. Bar Hill library. For the first time in 14 years I am a member of a local library. I haven’t told them of my previous deviations from library law, and I hope that they don’t find out – at least not until the internet connection has been set up at my house.

In case you hadn’t gathered, Heather and I are moving house. In fact, we are really moving country – we don’t yet have a house to move to. Nevertheless, this means that a lot of our possessions need to go into boxes, where they will be stored for two years, and re-opened when we return. This is, therefore, not your average move.

Firstly, we have to decide if it is ours – Heather has lived in this house for 5 years, and had 5 years worth of roomates who have kindly left her a lot of their possessions. Secondly, we have to decide whether it is coming to England or going to Purgatory. Then, we have to decide if it is worth keeping in a box for two years, or given away / sold / burned. Finally, we have to decide if it is a precious item – and, therefore, must live inside the in-laws house – or, if it is suitable for their garage. So, effectively, there are several moves taking place.

In less than a week’s time we will be in England wondering why we ever got so worried about the move… maybe!

One thing I have noticed is that some employers appear to be reluctant to advertise the salary that the job offers. For example, one particular worldwide bank, that originated in Asia in an area that was once controlled by Britain, likes to advertise the salary as being;

£excellent

What does that actually mean? What am I comparing it to? The salary of someone that’s unemployed, or the CEO of a multi-national chain of department stores? Be more precise please, and see me after class.