Pandemonium on the buses

Every now and then, even in the most mundane situations, you get a perfect storm (for those of you who haven't seen the film, this is where several circumstances which would cause an incident occur simultaneously to create a super-incident. Either that or it's a storm that pays off your overdraft, wins you a promotion, tidies the house and buys your girlfriend flowers.). Today's bus journey combined: traffic delays; an inexperienced driver; a gang of loud girls with a baby in tow.

Traffic delays mean waiting numbers build up at each stop, with their patience wearing thin. You know you're a Londoner when a fellow Londoner can turn to you and tut or raise their eyes and you know exactly what they mean. This tut conveys many things, all at once: 'Aren't the most trivial things annoying? Still, can't complain, the good old Blitz spirit. Isn't London great and rotten at the same time? If voting changed anything, they'd abolish it? I'd love a cup of tea. Isn't the weather awful/wonderful for this time of year?' All in one tut.

The inexperienced busdriver, when he finally gets to a bus stop, doesn't have the knowhow or authoritative voice to stop too many people getting on the bus. This causes a) a longer wait for the people at the next stop, and b) a crush on the bus. (When I got on, it had yet to become too crowded, and was able to maneouver past the one short, dumpy idiot who always stands in the middle, causing a bottleneck, with a gentle shove and a muttered 'If you get out of the way, Frodo, the rest of the fucking Fellowship can get on the bus'.)

The crush, which always seems to primarily consist of umbrellas, shopping bags and elbows, then startles the baby, who starts screaming, particularly when the inexperienced bus driver jolts and swerves (there is an underappreciated skill, I think, to driving a bus smoothly), thus throwing the crush all over the place. The baby's crying, in turn, upsets his mother/sister/auntie/friend of the above or whoever else is carrying him. The charmer in this particular incident, stood up to yell at the crush: 'If any of you breaks my fucking buggy, there ain't no-one getting off this bus until you gives me the money for a new one.' The friends show their support, yelling at the crush, the driver, any poor innocent who tuts or looks askance at them. The panicked bus driver swerves and lurches even more, randomly opening doors in the middle of traffic. It makes you wish for the non-contact sport of tube-travelling.

Moving on, yesterday I witnessed what I consider to be a unique metrological event. The rain was falling exactly vertically. Not a degree of variation to left, right, back, forwards, north, south, east or west. Hitting the pavement at exactly 90 degrees. Which meant there was no shelter from it anywhere, not under the bus huddle, not in the lee of buildings, nothing. One drop in particular fell with mathmatical presicion between my collar and the nape of my neck, travelling at such speed, I'm surprised I don't now leak.

Today, bus perfect storms aside, started out a lovely spring day. By the time I emerged from t'Underground at the end of my journey, thunder was rolling. March, eh? Still, I've a week and a half off work, starting in, ooh, half an hour, during which I should probably experience weather from seven different seasons.