Those who can’t, catch the bus

I recently pulled a muscle in my leg and then it got better and then I pulled it again. Both times the injury took place as I was jaywalking in an effort to catch the bus (which I dislike), and both times the injury has meant I’ve had to take the bus more while I wait for my leg to fix itself. There is a lesson to be learned here; something about how catching the bus is hazardous to one’s physical health.

It’s probably also hazardous to one’s mental health too. If it ain’t polyphonic ringtones (or worse – people who play music aloud on their phones), it’s today’s lady bus driver (whose bulging abdominal fat stuck out through the open zip on her uniform pants) who was so excited by the two American tourists on the bus, that after they got off, she kept the bus waiting as she told them about her dream of going to America one day.

Last night I decided to have fish n chips from the fish shop. I knew from previous experience that “one chips” was really enough for two, so I ordered half a chips (that sounds so wrong) and one fish. I ended up with two pieces of fish and enough chips that I could have easily gone halves with someone and neither of us would have been hungry. Tragically, my rubbish bin was the recipient of one fish and a quarter chips. Sometimes I wish the concept of McDonald’s-like portion stinginess would infiltrate its way into fish n chip shops.

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