It’s back to school time for the children of Ireland after their summer holidays. I know this – but not from any interest or involvement in these people’s lives. I have figured it out because of my bus journey to work this morning. I am alert to change, despite being barely conscious until after my second cup of coffee each day. There were teenagers in school uniforms present on the bus today. My scientific analysis indicates that primary school children are not back just yet – thanks to their continuing absence from public transport. I expect them to reappear by the end of the week.
My trip to the industrial wastelands is about to get a lot more strenuous. The little darlings will bring their own charm to the bus journey at that hideously early hour. I will have more time to enjoy it, as traffic will be so much slower, thanks to their school-friends being chauffeured to school. I look forward to the shrieking unreasonable behaviour of the younger angels, hassling their poor parents. I welcome the surly moodiness of the teenagers and their extravagant fringes, with their demeanour screaming ‘No-one understands my pain. I didn’t ask to be born you know.’
I anticipate sitting, immobile in traffic for an additional twenty minutes each day. The increased volume of cars, thanks to the school runs, will lead to more car accidents on the M50. An accident on the M50 spreads its impact all over the city.
No longer will I be able to fall out of bed at 8.15 to make it to my desk by 9.30. I will need to be fresh and alert at 7.45.
The joy. The sheer unmitigated joy.
I wonder where Beyonce and her mum are these days. It’s been such a long time since I’ve seen them. I can only imagine their absence means that they’ve found permanent accommodation and have changed schools.
I hope so at least.
For those folk new to this blog, Beyonce is a schoolgirl of about ten years old who used to attend school along my bus route to work. I recognised her because of her lantern jawed mum Bruiser. Bruiser clearly loved Beyonce very much but was prone to randomly threatening grievous bodily harm on anyone she imagined was disrespecting her. Anything could set her off really. Bumping into her was the worst crime. But a funny look could inspire threats of violence. I was quite terrified of her, while at the same time fascinated by the guttural cackle that was her speaking voice. How many cigarettes smoked every day does it take to achieve a voice like that I wonder? I discovered that Beyonce and Bruiser had been living in emergency hotel accommodation for the previous year. Their absence over the months preceding the summer holidays hopefully means they have found a permanent residence.
From today onward, m beleaguered fellow commuter will have to surrender our peaceful journey to work. Sharing is caring. We will be sharing our bus.
When is the midterm break again?