Well, Toddler Oub fell asleep in Montessori after our 60 minute walk yesterday. Another fine parenting result for Domestic Oubliette! And, I noticed, on my walk home these odd, large vehicles that went by periodically.
Oh yes, buses.
Discovered there is one that goes from our estate to the school. Making toddler walk for 60 minutes Vs five minute bus ride. Go me. I like to think a situation through.
So, we hopped aboard the lovely 67 to Lexlip this morning. Cost a euro and Toddler Oub got to talk with the crazies too, just for added value.
Here's a question - why so many nutters on the bus? Or is it just me? (Not is it me who is a nutter - a debatable point - but is it just me who is always on the bus when completely mad people are on it?) Mr Oub - a country boy who never took a bus in his life - pretended to die of shock when I said we took the bus. He claims I think I'm too posh for public transport. And as I always tell him - I'm not too posh to bus!
It's just the crazies I can't take.
For example - I once had a bloke sit down next to me, in the middle of the day, on a full bus, who proceeded to knock one out. Choked his chicken. Slapped his salami. Etc, etc. Sure I was slimmer back then, and took better care of myself all round. But really. I took my revenge by unexpectedly (we weren't at a stop) getting up, to exit our seat while he was mid jerk, forcing him to stand up. Ha, ha, he had to fumble swiftly to conceal perv junior from the general bus populace.
And the list goes on. Thankfully my encounters with sex fiends are outnumbered by attention from more benign loons. But they're nearly as hard to deal with. How do u get away from Mr Rosary Beads Crack Pot Head when there are ten stops till your destination and you've been too well brought up to just change seats? Yes, sod politeness and change seat...Mr RBCP didn't think of your delicate feelings when he started telling you all about his alien abduction moving holy statue experience at the top of his voice. (Everyone is looking.)
But sometimes you can't change seats. Like today on our two bus rides. Having newBaby Oub in the buggy with us, we had to go in the special buggy space. Which it seems is right next to the special cuckoo fruitcake seat. On my own, sure, I could avoid the horror of making eye contact - that international sign to potty tin foil heads that all you've ever wanted was a chat with them - But no one told the toddler on my knee! Toddlers love demented senseless loons! They speaka da same language!
So, she had a great time sharing war stories with the causalities of sanity on our two bus rides, I fixed a grin. I'm just not made with the more vulnerable in our society in mind. (I like to see myself, in fact, as in need of societies protection.)
Thankfully all the walking we've done in the last three days has made me so sore that even trotting out to the bus tomorrow might be put on hold. Darn. T'Oub can stay home and we can play shopping and cooking ad nauseum ( proto-feminist she ain't). Maybe I'll take the car? Sure it's six weeks on Monday...
The nutters will just have to get by without us.