But what is it about driving buses that gives some bus drivers such a sick sense of humour? I know, I know, probably the passengers.
David, from the busdriving blog seems a nice chap, always ready to give his customers the time of day and help them with their troubles, but that’s down in Devon where perhaps the pace of life is slower. Whereas here – well, you get the odd nice one occasionally. But it’s the bastards you remember.
Take this morning. I was crossing the road, mere yards from the bus stop with a grandstand view of a number three pulling in at the stop. As I started to sprint for it, the bus driver must also have had a grandstand view of me running and clearly signalling my desire to catch the bus – aka waving like a madwoman. Which made it, I suppose, inevitable that he should wait just long enough for me to reach the stop before pulling away. This happens pretty much every time I try and use that stop. I suppose I should have learnt by now…
Now I know that buses have timetables and if I’m not actually at the stop he doesn’t have to wait for me. But if that was the case he might have looked a little repentant as he drove away. A rueful smile, a mouthed ‘sorry’ – I would have understood. But no, not this one. He didn’t exactly give me a triumphant grin as he passed me. But there was a look of satisfaction on his face, a little hint of smugness that suggested he knew exactly what he was doing. And that I had made his day.