on the buses

One of the many delights of old age is going on the buses. Most of the passengers are oldies like me, anxiously gripping our wheelie baskets and fumbling with our bus passes. I don`t think I have ever been on a Brighton bus without engaging in a lively conversation, sometimes an entire life story. The younger generation, often mums and dads with buggies, totally ignore their offspring and spend the entire journey on their phones tapping out messages feverishly and gazing anxiously at their screens. The only time we all communicate is when there is a madcap driver who careers round corners and brakes suddenly.I really love it It makes up for no longer being a cyclist The carpet men came yesterday (carpeteers?) Wesley and Sunny. it was a chaotic experience.I had to move all the books yet again, the grandfather clock was carried out into the garden, I was stumbling over bedclothes and cushions and rolls of carpet. Fortunately B. Wiggins was parked at daughter J`s otherwise it would have been even more like a Marx brothers film. But it now looks pristine and elegant, though this may soon be defiled by B.W`s muddy feet. I still have no curtains in the sitting room but only the squirrels and rabbits can see in. Otherwise apart from putting up some more pictures It is finished. I am trying to get to grips with a new lot of names for my Wednesday afternoon voluntary job at the Infants. I am always learning new things there This week it was that a spider is not an insect as it has eight legs, and insects have six. I had got to the age of eighty three without knowing that.