I had an early start at work today – or earlyish at least – and because I’m super paranoid when it comes to buses on Sunday schedules (i.e. they are so few and far between that if the one you go for misses you’re screwed) I tend to go for the first available bus in a morning.
But the more I do it, the more I am worried that I’m going to become indoctrinated into the Sunday Morning club.
Everyone on that first bus knows everyone else. And knows everything about everyone else.
There was a woman at the bus stop this morning who, once she’d dispensed with the greetings, got straight down to the nitty-gritty of discussing the fact that she was diagnosed with Parkinson’s a couple of days ago, before finishing that up with saying that she shouldn’t really grumble because the only time she’s been in the hospital in her whole life is when she had her heart “thing” a couple of years ago.
I don’t want to be at that level of familiarity with someone in a bus shelter. I wouldn’t necessarily want to discuss all that gubbins with people I knew, let alone people I’d see in a bus shelter once a week. And especially one who, as I was revealing my medical history, was trying to blow apart two pages of The Sun On Sunday because she couldn’t get them apart while wearing gloves.
Yeah, that’s right.
I have to get the bus with people who thing it’s okay to read The Sun On Sunday.