Eish! London 10 June
By Shannan
- 421 reads
Wednesday, 10 June 2009
Oh my word! FIVE HOURS! Five Hours to get to Camden! I sat at the 4th bus stop; I had walked there from where the other bus had dropped me in the hope of people getting off further down (Note: always walk against the direction of the bus if full buses are not stopping). With each bus I sent a text message to my boss: “1 full red bus driving past the stop”, “Two red buses driving past the stop...” (With the 7th & 8th buses the nausea from the claustrophobia of squashed bodies hit me on the pavement and I just couldn’t push on to be shoved against the door). Eventually I SQUASHED onto the 9th bus. I had to wedge myself between the side window and a baby’s push chair for over an hour from Wembley to Euston. Madness! The lady whose pram I was connected to was late for her baby’s doctor’s appointment and she was worried they would turn her away for being late. Sadly she wouldn’t be able to take a day’s leave again any time soon. She was from a central European country and had come to England for a better life with her husband. She missed home terribly, even though she had been away for a few years, and especially now that she had a child. I didn’t quite know what to say. (I know that I would want to be around family support if I had a child. I guess if I had to cope, I’d have to cope, but given the choice: I’d rather have family love and support close to me instead of very far away.) I thought it best to comment as a rhetorical question: “Well, you are doing the best you can and that is good. I can’t stand being far away from my home and my family either; but what can you do?” She smiled at me with the empathy of someone facing lots of daily decisions, some of which are the hardest decisions the heart could ever have to make.
After our substantially long chat the bus terminated in Euston, I said good-bye and wished her all the very best, there wasn’t much else I could say. I smiled and waved at the very little child who was going to grow up with a British accent quite unlike her mother’s; so many choices with so many consequences. I was glad I wasn’t in that situation. My situation was now trying to find my way to Camden from Euston!
The staff were all eating lunch when I arrived. My boss gave me a big hug and told me that I could go home. She said that it looked like I’d been through hell and it would be a good idea if I walked back to Euston to catch the overland back to my nearest station, then walk home from there. I couldn’t believe it! I was grateful that she didn’t want me to deal with the learners, but what a waste of a day! I was tired, angry and I’d had enough. I waited for an hour and made my way to Euston to return in the crush. Eish! London.
Officially after one month and one bottle of tissue oil earnestly applied daily and nightly, I can now say that 3rd degree burns leave scars and there is nothing you can do about it. Most disappointing; but there you have it, at least it’s not an obvious scar anymore and London has only slightly branded my arse.
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