When I get off the bus in the mornings I never look left. There are a couple of reasons for this. Firstly, I’m always about to toddle off towards the right. Secondly, I fully expect anybody else who is on the pavement to notice that a bus has pulled up at the bus stop and to veer towards the hedgerows/fences/walls away from the roadside. Thirdly, I usually assume that the person who may well be on the pavement about to pass the bus stop to be on two legs and generally walking.
*kabam, kaboom, kabeem, ouch*
So you can imagine my surprise this morning upon taking a step off the bus, hearing [vaguely, and as though from a distance] the words “watch out!” and suddenly finding myself knocked off my feet [literally] by a barmy [bi-]cyclist and face down in front of the bus. Yes, in front of. How the hell did I get in front of the bus? It’s all a blur, totally. I vaguely remember the words, being thrown into the air, her apologising profusely and offering to pay for my trousers [they were torn], a lady jumping down from the bus to make sure I was ok, the bus driving off leaving me with the Wicked Cyclist Woman, and I remember stumbling to school. And then I woke up from the hazy shock and had to put up with naughty teenagers.
I have the sort of massive graze on my knee that only five year olds can be proud of. I shall have fun picking the scabs. I’m sure that tomorrow it will be stiff. I must question precisely how fast she was going to be able to knock me off my feet and off the pavement into the road. Blimey … and she was only a little old soul. They’re a menace. However sweet and loving they look, they’re still a danger to innocent unsuspecting bus-takers like me.
And tomorrow I must catch the bus again, with all the same passengers who saw the accident happen. But at least they may smile wryly to themselves when they notice me checking both right and left.
This evening we partook of the pleasure of looking at another house. And this one we liked. Muchly. It was niiiiice. Nice garden. Three nice sized bedrooms. Nice kitchen. Nice bathroom. Nice living room/diner. Nice storage space. Nice quiet area. Nice price. Perfect? We shall see. It would be a bit too easy to think we could have found an ideal home without much trying … it just doesn’t happen. Bah! But who knows?
please God bless the bitch who hurt me xxx Elsabeth