Portable Inferno

Anyone who even somewhat knows me has grasped how much I loathe public transport and the start of this week has just been one disaster after another. Standard buses and intercity buses persisted onto a strike and this supervened into a magnitude of irritated trekking for someone like myself who dismissed the idea of investing in secure footwear. By Tuesday evening mother nature had issued all floodgates and brutality and I had envisioned a video montage of my jaunt home broadcasting to all motorists before they sit their driving tests, solely to predetermine how cruel life in the pre-driving community can be. By the termination of the bus drivers' meager tantrum my feet resembled the organs' of Susie Boyle. In retrospect I have decided to recite the reoccurring tale of my pursuit to disembark from the town strangely without the mill into Galway city. It might command a cackle or two from the minister of transport or a viewer.

Firstly on arrival at my local bus stop it's always fundamental that I usher a tent, basic rations and insect repellent (there's a lot of demented residents conspiring to get on the bus too). Typically the bus will descend into my confines forty minutes before or after its scheduled arrival, generally there's no in between. When the auto-mobile does subsequently grace my inhabitance it is vital I have the exact amount of change for the bus ticket or else I'll receive an automated sigh directed slam bang into my face from gentleman bus-driver, his dismay occasionally exerts the customary aragh. It is a treat if it's a female bus driver but it is a rare circumstance.

Whilst accessing a seat it is still near impossible to dodge all the groping as the handlers are difficult to avoid. I still ought to keep my hands awkwardly crossed as if I'm parked on a slide.

Throughout the bus journey I should remain rigid and treacherous looking as once I relax some pensioner will be drawn into the uninhabited seat beside me or worse a sticky fingered preschooler.

The myth that not thanking the bus driver when exiting the bus results in passengers being brought to a brutal concentration camp is indeed true, best not to chance it so I exit the vehicle declaring my gratitude for the two hour service I've splendidly received but with that twitch in my eye still firmly intact.