Thursday, 11 September 2014

Oh Thou Blessed Norwood Bus Garage!!!


I have always been curious about Norwood Bus Garage, the final stop for the #2 bus I take sometime.  Wondering whether it is some kind of haven for tired buses to be gloriously rejuvenated overnight.  It’s one of those stop names that catches my attention every time.  Today, I was really happy to visit there after a distressing start to my day.

This is not a picture kind of post, as I was too distraught for that!  The day started off normally, but quickly deteriorated.  Starting out carrying a HHHHEEEAAAVVVYY voltage transformer back to work, from where it was borrowed, BIG BOY added more than a bit of weightiness to the day from the beginning.  Out the door and a few steps down the pavement (sidewalk, in American) when I remembered I’d forgotten THE BAG.  THE BAG is the one with the notebook containing ALL the documents related to my move back to the US – notes, orders, etc., that gets wagged back and forth to-from work each day 

Bag on shoulder, HHHHHEEEEAAAAAVVVVVYYYY transformer in arms and off I go again to #2 bus stop, a tactic that will give me a little respite from carrying the big boy all the way to the station!  I “alight” (not lightly, however) with my heavy load from the bus and go into Marylebone Station where I sit for a few minutes to wait on the 8:07 train to Banbury, from which I will alight at South Ruislip and take the Central Line (tube) to West Ruislip, wagging my heavy load all the way.

As I’m waiting for Chiltern’s Banbury train to start off, I have a fright, as I realize that THE BAG is missing!!!!!!!!   OOOOOOHHHHHH SHIT!!!!  My life is so undone without THE BAG.  I think for a brief moment what to do.  5 minutes until the train leaves.  Yes, I can make it aaaaallllllllllll the way back down the #6 platform to the entry area to see if I’ve left THE BAG there.  NOT, no it isn’t there.   Rrrrrrrrun back toward platform #6 ( my luck, the farthest one!).   Slow down, cause in the distance, there goes the train WITH my heavy transformer, as I had left it on the train, sure I would return.

Think, think!!!  1)  Call work colleages to see if they have the name of another colleague who I saw boarding Banbury-bound; maybe he can rescue BIG BOY.  Line busy, voice message.  Next colleague left her mobile phone at work; not phone number available.  Text comes in with Banbury-bound colleague’s phone number.  Call him to no avail as he has already alighted the train.  Ok, so forget the transformer a bit.  On to the more important loss.  2) To the train information booth to see if THE BAG has been turned in.  It has not.  The bus!  I’ve left it on #2!  Nothing to do but go home and call the bus company.

Meanwhile, what do I do about big boy?  I worry someone will find it & think it is a B@^^B (not a word I like to say out loud, and think of the date, after all).  Should I call the train company or will that just get them upset for nothing and have them come pick me up & haul me off to transport police land?  I do nothing in that regard, but to go online and file a lost property report.

Call the bus company.  Don’t open til 9.  Call Transport for London.  They say call the bus company that doesn’t open til 9 & ask for Norwood Bus Garage, the home of #2.  At 9:03, I call the bus company again.  Rrrrrrrrriiiiinnnngggg, who do you want? Norwood Bus Garage.  Busy.  Classical Music Wait, rrrrrriiiinnnnggg, who do you want?  Norwood Bus Garage.  Busy.  Classical Music Wait, rrrrriiiiinnnngggg,  I’m putting you through (after about 15 minutes of holding).  I have an awful problem, I say.  I’m moving from the country in about 3 weeks and everything I need to do that is in a bag I left on the #2 bus this morning.  What does the bag look like?  Black with coloured spots (it’s dotted, but they say “spots” in England).  Ok, let me take your information.  Wait.  What does it look like again?  Black with coloured spots.  And what is in the bag?  A binder.  What does the binder say?  NFAC.  I have it.  Your bag is right here.  YYYYYYEEEEEAAAAHHHHHHH!!!   Happiness, rejoicing, praising the LORD for delivering me temporarily of my stupidity!

How do I get to Norwood Bus Garage?  Take #2 bus, last stop!  I’ve never been so happy to ride the #2 bus, meet up with Norwood Bus Garage, and be reunited with THE BAG, my moving-country brain.  Worn out, I go to work at our in-town location and am mildly productive, as most all my energy has been ZAPPED by the morning misadventure! What a day!


Friday, 30 May 2014

Not Just Whistling Dixie

Sometimes I sing.  Sometimes I hummmmmm.  Sometimes I whistle.  Tonight I stood waiting to cross Marylebone Road whistling softly (I thought) some old love song ("I Only Have Eyes for You").  The guy beside me caught my eye, smiled, and said, "Are you singing?"  I admitted I was whistling.  We started a conversation.  His name was Miguel; well, you know mine.  He was a chef in St. John's Wood.  He owned a little pizza place in Venice that his brother ran.  He insisted I come to the pub and have a drink.  I insisted I didn't.  He insisted he loved me and that I should give him my number.  No, I wouldn't.  He wanted a kiss. What could a little one hurt?  He must have my number.  No, he mustn't.  Finally, liar that I am, I convinced him I had a boyfriend.  He reluctantly left.  I smiled.  He was too young, too full of bullshit, and way too eager, but this little encounter was sweet and spirit lifting and gave me the feeling that maybe I'm not over the hill quite yet!

Friday, 31 January 2014

Sweet Lucia



After the 13-hour, window-seat trip from Chile, it felt good to walk around the airport in Madrid, while waiting for my flight to London.  At gate R6 in Terminal 4 (or 4S) I sat in the farthest row of unoccupied seats when I spotted a mother and little girl in conversation.  Too far away to hear the conversation, I smiled anyway and was delighted when the energetic, cute little girl ran over near  where I sat.  “I can run around,” she said, and then indeed she did run around in circles several times before parking her behind in a seat near me.  It turned out her mom was from Chile and that they had come in on the same flight as I had from Santiago and were headed home to London.  Lucia, two years old, mostly spoke English, but understood her mom’s Spanish perfectly and replied in kind when her mom spoke to her in Spanish.  For several minutes, we shared some friendly small talk.  When time came to board, they went ahead, as they had priority boarding.

Upon boarding myself, the two seats beside me remained empty for the longest, but I knew it wouldn’t last, as the crew had made several announcements about its being a full flight.  I quietly hoped that someone had missed their flight and that I might have some extra room to stretch my legs.  Finally, who came to fill the two empty seats but Lucia and her mom (whose name I never learned)?  From Madrid to London, Lucia and I came to be buddies, as she sat between her mom and me.  I watched as she played with her Dora sticker book, and with her chicken/spinach flatbread sandwich.  “I can do it myself!” she told her mom who was trying to fasten Lucia’s seatbelt.  Lucia let me know that she would soon be home having a cuddle with both dad and mom.

Upon landing at Heathrow apparently the jetway stopped short of the plane and we had to wait while some fix was identified.  The fix was stairs, so I helped Lucia and mom with their luggage down the stairs and back up to the terminal.  By that time Lucia had latched on to me.  She took her mom’s hand in one of hers and offered me the other, an honor I certainly could not refuse!  As we walked down toward immigration control, her mom laughed at how Lucia had latched on to me and said that when they were boarding the plane, Lucia had said, “I want to find that woman,” meaning me.  How interesting that she did just that:  find me!  By this time they almost felt like family and I considered giving them my email address.  I didn’t, though, thinking it might be too forward or too weird.  I wonder if I’ll always be sorry I didn’t, as it seemed so much like somehow we were meant to meet?  But then, if that is really the case, I wouldn’t be surprised if Lucia doesn’t somehow find me again!

Saturday, 11 January 2014

Much Missed Dart


Kitten Dart,
Shying away from the crowd
Letting no one find her
Guaranteeing she stays around.

Stealthy Dart,
Hiding away unseen
Hardly warming up
To anyone but me.

Tiger Dart,
Making finger a chew toy
Wresting it away
Takes a grand ship’s ahoy!

Panther Dart,
Pouncing on plastic mouse
Sneaks it upstairs, downstairs
And all around the house.

Travelling Dart,
With mom, Katie, flies over the sea
Braving big plane belly
To make new home with me.

Beggar Dart
Putting canine friends to shame.
Whatever I’m eating
To her is fair game.

Silly Dart,
Having begged a bite off me
Turns her nose up at the morsel
Scratches to cover over the treat.

Sweet Dart,
Snuggling on my lap,
The very best way
To take a cat nap.

Loving Dart,
Finding a cozy place
To nuzzle in a curve
To snooze the night away.

Baby Dart,
Cuddling on my chest,
Takes a belly tickle
With the best of the best.

Much missed Dart – now and always.