Any minute now I'm expecting an owl from Hogwarts inviting me to come guest-tutor on Drama (not 'drama') In The Wizarding World! (Can you IMAGINE? And WHY does Hogwarts not have a Theatre Society, hmmm?)
I'm sure the letter's coming, because today I rode the Knight Bus.
Yes, I know, it 'said' it was the Number 89, but I'm also certain that JoRow had that exact driver and route in mind when she came up with the idea.
This morning I went to Dover - I took the Number 15 bus, which was a nice direct route and got me there in 20 minutes or so. The weather was beautiful, my iPod playlist was spot-on, the fact that I got off a stop too late and had to walk back to the entrance to Dover Castle was just another chance to enjoy the sunshine and take a few more pictures. I roamed all over the Castle, did a little too much shopping (it was for Christmas, so it's OK, right?), got all choked up over WWII in the Underground War Tunnels, and eventually headed down the hill to try for a good look at the famous white cliffs and find a bus back to Canterbury.
The 89 arrived at the station about 10 minutes before the 15 was due - it was the 'scenic' route, and as such would get me back to town much later than the following bus, but hey... why not? Try anything (bus route-wise) once, right? Ho, boy.
I had the top level of a ricketty old double-decker to myself... except for the extremely nice boy who got on with his scooter soon after I did and immediately began spray-painting it in the very back row. (Seriously, the kid was super nice - he came and opened the windows for me when I started choking on the fumes.) You know those movies or imported TV episodes where you see people driving through quaint English villages and narrow-laned countrysides? That's exactly what they look like in real life, except I can't be QUITE sure because we careened through them so quickly that my insides are still somewhere on the outskirts of Ayleshame. That bus bobbed and weaved like a politician at a town-hall meeting. There were tree branches and leaves beating at the top level of the bus until I nearly started bleeding in sympathy. I really didn't try to take pictures - between the speed and the paint fumes they all would have come out blurry, anyway.
I did see some incredible countryside and some terrific houses/cottages - there was at least one with an ACTUAL thatched roof. I think there was another that was a converted church... the other 97%, though, were the brick boxes so beloved of the British aesthetic. Rolling hills, open farmland, mist in the dells, green stretches of woodland - and lines of brick houses, inches apart if not joined at the hip. What IS this love for row-housing? Even if they're not actually attached they're still structurally inbred and just waiting for a pre-fabricated 'extension' to hook them together. You Brits. You're funny.
And your bus drivers are INSANE.
The kid thanked me very sweetly when I didn't give him up to the driver after the fumes drifted downstairs and started bothering the little old ladies clustered below - I pointed out that he had paint in his hair and suggested he try to keep out of trouble. I've got a fan, I didn't get a face full of spray paint, and I made it back to town in one piece... sounds like a win to me!*
Hogwarts, I'll stock up on owl treats!
*Except for the guy who has to clean paint off the back row of the bus. Sorry about that, bus guy. Maybe it'll smooth out the driving skills, though - they certainly couldn't get worse!
No comments:
Post a Comment