Everytime I neglect my blog(s), the guilt ends up chipping away at me, like a gaudy chisel against smooth, solid marble. Yep, that's right; I'm marble. Yes, it's not the best feeling in the world, marble and chisel. Anyway, pressing on, even though this guilt within me sparks out, igniting my life and burning away at my heart...yes, I'm going to dissect the bus service today. Wooopdedoo, let's go.
I get the bus to school every single morning; I know, I know. So brave, yet so young :'] yeah, it's pretty eventful most days, and I have been getting it regularly for the past two and a bit years; this is my third gruelling, British, early-morning Winter. I get a ten-minute walk to the first bus top from my house, a fifteen-minute wait for said bus (the reliability of which will be called into question at a later date), a deliciously warm, comfortable twenty to twenty five-minute journey on a packed, sweaty, B.O-fragranced bus. What is it with public transport?! Is it a prerequisite that you have to have avoided cleanliness and basic human hygiene for at least three days before being allowed on? Because, and I say this with a startling amount of pride as well, I do not adhere to that quality. Sorry, digressing once more (that's me, baby). After said aromatic journey, I then have a twenty-minute walk (on a good day) up to school. This is all a rather straightforward routine, and one that I have been a mostly successful participant for the past two years. Being an innocent, naive country-bumpkin-type girl as I am made to feel, I can't help but wonder why said routine becomes infinately more difficult when the weather sets to extremes. To blessed little me, extreme weather is not a freak blizzard, or a horrendous tornado. Nope, give me anything below -5 and anyting about 20oc and I will start to FREAK. OUT. In Merrie Olde Englande, the weather is very much like the old-fashioned, stereotypical people that I still long to have in Britain...hot and cold. Fickle. Feckless. You get my drift. But yeah, anyway; it's not like I don;t know why it gets so cold, but what irritates me is that as soon as you slip into a routine, confortable and suitable enough to even make the Baltic Winters more bearable, the ridiculous Newbury Bus Service will go and change your bus route, time of arrival/departure at both ends and bus number. Apparently they need to achieve a perfect bus route to cover as much of the distance as possible, whilst fitting in with the daily Reading commute...(because of course, to little old Newbury, the big city of Reading is something to be looking upon in awe). I cannot believe that they needed to change it yet again. It's like, in Year Seven, every morning I took a certian bus route until it changed. This bus route, being the first one I ever took, was relatively easy to adapt to, but it really threw me when they changed it. Eventually, I managed to get used to it, and the next three times that they changed it, I got better. However, very recently (today in fact. Psshh), the wretched bus service changed MY morning bus, YET AGAIN. To the exact same one that I'd started getting at the beginning of Year Seven! They've coped without it for two years, TWO YEARS. And for some bizarre, ludicrous, pointless reason, they decide to change it back. I cannot comprehend the stupidity of these people. Please, if there is a God up there, grant everyone Common Sense. Before I hijack that godforsaken (whoops! Sorry...) bus, one fateful morning.
That's all; I think.