Mu baby got dem bus stop
blues
The 1B bus ain’t comin’ an’
I got a hole in mu shoes
I mostly don’t have a problem
waiting for a bus. Not when the 1B was due in five minutes according to the
information board. I counted down the numbers. It was worse than a watched kettle.
Then, it was due and all eyes were fixed on the corner where the bus turns. There were number 5 buses, two number 3s, a number 7A but no 1B. The information
board moved on to the next bus coming in half an hour. Not a 1B. The next one
of those, that probably wouldn’t turn up either, was in an hour’s time.
Then the man started up. It
wasn’t a quiet rant. I’d kind of promised myself that bus stops were fertile
ground for gleaning writing prompts. It was a long grizzle about what was a)
wrong with the bus system, b) wrong with Inverness and c) what was wrong with
Nicola Sturgeon. The man had, apparently, visited a lot of cities all over
Europe. Inverness was a joke – but he wasn’t laughing. He wished, time and
again, that he had never moved up to Inverness. After fifteen minutes I also
wished he hadn’t moved to Inverness.
How much was the weather
talking? Had it been a sunny day, had he been licking an ice cream, had he been
basking in a heat wave, would he have spoken so critically? He would have had something
to say about sunstroke and midgy bites.
a) The
bus system isn’t great but it beats walking. The bus drivers probably have
little control over the route or the road conditions. Most of them are cheerful
and doing their best. They are never rude. Sometimes they don’t wait long
enough for me to find a seat, but I can cope.
I miss the old No 13 bus. That
used to be perfect. It didn’t head off into the hills. They were every twenty
minutes. Then again, I had a car in those days, so bus journeys were not the norm.
And I didn’t have the older person’s entitlement card.
b) Inverness
hasn’t been a city for that long. It has a lot of catching up to do. Most
eating places, certainly the chip shops, close at 10.00pm. BUT it is so close
to so much beautiful scenery. What’s not to love about Loch Ness?
I remember the morning after the
evening I arrived in Inverness. I was all set to work for a gospel outreach
team for a year. I stood on a footbridge that spanned the river. I looked at the
castle perched on the hill. There was a settling inside and a feeling of coming
home. It was exactly the time and the place where I was supposed to be. Every
so often I go and stand on the bridge to see if I can recapture that feeling.
Inverness now is nothing like it was then but I have had no marching orders.
c) Please
don’t slag our Nicola. Someone on TV yesterday said that she is a rare
commodity in politics – she is honest. I’ve always thought that honest
politicians are an oxymoron. She has never hidden her desire for independence,
but it will always be according to the will of the people. It will always be
our choice.
I don’t know what it is about the
logic people employ. The independence vote was lost because of the fear that
Scotland would end up out of the EU and getting back in wasn’t going to be
easy. Not on our own. Westminster played on that fear and insisted that a vote
against independence would mean our place in the EU was secure. Now they have
taken us out. Yes, the vote was supposed to be a once in a lifetime vote, but things have changed. The promise to stay in Europe is not there now. The result might be very different now.
The man carried on with his
complaints after he was on the bus. Had I been the bus driver I would have
stopped the bus and told him to get off.
Of course, the man has every
right to freedom of speech. He can air his views as often, as loud and as
going-on-and-on as he likes. I’d like to think that he is thankful that in
doing so he doesn’t end up in prison, or worse.
There are worse places to
live than in Inverness.
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