We currently live close to a bus stop. Surprisingly it's used by people, their behaviour varies a lot. They wait there for buses (there are two routes, one I know, one I don't) and they also get off there after their journey. I try not to think of them as "bus wankers" but that famous phrase does stick. It sticks even though I have a free bus pass and occasionally when on a bus I'll think, we're all just bus wankers now. It's hard wired. Had I Tourette's I'd be shouting it now. I'm sure that same thought and urge passes through the mind of god on a fairly regular basis.
Bus stop conversations, antics or chance encounters often encroach on our otherwise sublime peace. They seep through the kitchen window gap like Lewis Carroll's fictional, shadowy treacle might do on a warm day. Too loud chattering between strangers, attention seeking rhetoric, drunks staggering about, youths swearing and shouting, seagulls attacking the bin, dog owners briefing their dogs on a potential out of body experience, confused tourists looking for the Forth Bridge, couples snogging in the drizzle, habitual offenders (daily riders who spit, smoke, quaff energy drinks or allow their headphones to bleed), howling bairns, temporary rain shelterers, old people with malfunctioning volume controls and Co-op bags, unfamiliar tongues wagging (Chinese, Weegie, Polish or Proper London), sneaky farters. All human life is there, passing through, at least until the bus finally turns up.
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