My old friend and the most avid reader of my blogs, Valerio, said after hearing about my “Food from heaven” adventure (blog of the same name): “Here’s another good point of your job: your commuting to and from the pub seems to provide a lot of material for stories…”
Indeed.
When I first transferred to the Wood Green branch of the pub, I’d just pull my jumper over my work top after the closing shift, and get on the night bus — first the N29 to Manor House, then the N253 for the last two stops to my house.
On one of the N253 journeys, I noticed the driver looking fairly intently at me as I was getting on, even turning round in his seat and craning his neck at the next stop when I went and stood just out of his direct line of vision. This freaked me out a bit, thinking he probably fancied me.
I’d been approached before by men on buses and at bus stops, striking up a casual conversation, starting with asking if I was going home from work, then moving on to whether I wanted to go for a cup of coffee or a walk in the park, but they’d all been earlier: around 9/10pm, a sunny late afternoon for the-walk-in-the-park one.
This level of interest at 3am by the bus driver was a bit too intense for my comfort. After I disembarked, I dawdled around the bus stop, waiting for the bus to move off, as my house is by the main road, only ten yards from the bus stop, so I didn’t want the driver to see where I lived. He, on his part, wouldn’t drive off immediately either. And so, there we were: each idling at the bus stop, in a kind of a stalemate for a while. This only confirmed my initial judgement of him. He’s persistent, I thought, and making his interest very obvious.
I’d been approached before by men on buses and at bus stops, striking up a casual conversation, starting with asking if I was going home from work, then moving on to whether I wanted to go for a cup of coffee or a walk in the park, but they’d all been earlier: around 9/10pm, a sunny late afternoon for the-walk-in-the-park one.
This level of interest at 3am by the bus driver was a bit too intense for my comfort. After I disembarked, I dawdled around the bus stop, waiting for the bus to move off, as my house is by the main road, only ten yards from the bus stop, so I didn’t want the driver to see where I lived. He, on his part, wouldn’t drive off immediately either. And so, there we were: each idling at the bus stop, in a kind of a stalemate for a while. This only confirmed my initial judgement of him. He’s persistent, I thought, and making his interest very obvious.
The next time, it was a different driver. This one actually asked, also turning round in his seat and craning his neck, “Where are you going?” What a strange question! Why did he want to know? What’s the matter with all these male drivers, I thought.
Another post-shift night, as I was waiting for the night bus at 3am, I happened to look down and noticed that because I hadn’t taken off my work apron — which had a big pocket in front and into which I often stuff spare paper napkins for wiping up greasy spills — I looked about eight months pregnant.
Penny dropped: those bus drivers were probably wondering what this heavily pregnant woman was doing, being out and about at 3am. And an Oriental woman at that too, which is unusual, as Oriental woman don’t go gadding about at 3am.
Also, because it was a different driver each time, they hadn’t seen that I was still eight months pregnant three months later.
Also, because it was a different driver each time, they hadn’t seen that I was still eight months pregnant three months later.
I now make sure to remove my work apron when I finish my closing shift. No more staring from the drivers after that.
(London, 2016)
Update 031218: Another penny's just dropped. The drivers might've been worried that I might end up giving birth on their bus, hence the level of interest!
* See also "Catching the last Tube train" and "How to expedite matters"
Update 031218: Another penny's just dropped. The drivers might've been worried that I might end up giving birth on their bus, hence the level of interest!
* See also "Catching the last Tube train" and "How to expedite matters"
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