Handbags and glad rags

22 – 25 October 2014

There was a definite chill in the air when I set off on Wednesday morning. Not quite a frost but a hairs breadth from it. The sky was bright and clear though so I didn’t mind the walk to work. Vivid autumn leaves were using the blue as a backdrop, something to make me smile as I plodded along. Peering over Cobden Bridge the boatyard was perfectly reflected in the still water making a pretty picture.

At work the lady with the world in her handbag was back again, this time by email. She took exception to my acknowledgment email telling her I’d requested CCTV footage from the bus and sent the details to our depot to interview the driver.
‘I don’t care about CCTV or your driver,’ she wrote. ‘What about my compensation! Your driver was to blame. If he had picked up my bag it wouldn’t have been stolen so I want compensation for the things I’ve lost. Don’t write to me about CCTV, just send me my compensation right away.’

As it happens I’d got the report by this time and sent the CCTV footage off to the police officer who’d contacted me after the lady reported the theft of her bag. The footage clearly showed the driver in heavy traffic and unable to pick up the bag. It also clearly showed a female passenger go to the seat and pick up the bag before getting off as soon as the bus stopped. The driver went to collect the bag but, of course, it was gone. I sent an email to the Bag Lady to tell her all this and that, in the circumstances, we would not be offering any compensation. Perhaps she will take better care of her next bag. I’m almost certain she will be back.

With Jess away on holiday it was shanks’ pony for me on the way home despite the dark. I chose the most well lit route towards Cobden Bridge and was thankful of my high vis jacket. Crossing Horseshoe Bridge the lights from the football stadium reminded me of the setting sun and light danced on the water from the buildings lining the river bank. It felt as if it had been a long day.

The breakfast news on Thursday morning told me the new wind shaft was being winched into place at Bursledon Windmill that day. Part of me wished I didn’t have to go to work so I could wander up there and watch. Who am I kidding, all of me wished I could go and watch, even if it was a grey, damp morning.

Instead I walked over the Big Bridge to the office all wrapped up in my hat, gloves and scarf against the chilly air. There was some new graffiti under the bridge and patches of blue sky reflected in the water. As I made my way along the boardwalk the low sun turned the water to gold and I stopped for a photo or two.

Paddy the dog ran up to me as I approached Horseshoe Bridge wagging his tail. I stopped for a moment to say hello. Last week Commando bumped into him and his owner when he was out on a run and it turns out his name is actually Pedro, although his owner calls him Peddy. Obviously I’ve misheard at some point but I think I shall keep calling him Paddy because it suits him.

A very well spoken elderly lady was one of my first callers of the day. She wanted to make a complaint in the strongest terms. As always, I was all ears.
“I’m disgusted by the manners of the people on your buses,” she said. “they throw rubbish on the floor, they put their feet on seats, talk on their phones and eat food on the bus! It has to be stopped.”
I explained that, unfortunately, we had no control over the behaviour of members of the public. To be honest most of the things she’d said annoy me too but there isn’t much I can do about it unless I want a stand up row on every bus journey.
“They bring pushchairs onto the bus and get in everyone’s way. Their children are ill mannered and filthy. They all dress like tramps. People don’t give up their seats for the elderly. They swear, I don’t need to hear that language when I’m sitting on the bus. Some of them are so overweight they take up two seats but they only pay for one. The other day a man fell asleep and was snoring, I ask you.”
“I understand these things are annoying and distressing,” I said, trying to calm her, “but there really is very little we can do about it.”
“You need to put up some signs,” she said. “The drivers need to stop them. I’m going to write to my MP and I want the name and address of your managing director so I can write to him too.”
I think some people’s expectations of the power we have is slightly over optimistic.

You know those days when everything that can go wrong does go wrong? Well, that was Friday. Everything I touched I dropped, there was granola all over the kitchen at one point and I had to spend time clearing it up. When I opened the new carton I milk I accidentally threw the lid in the bin meaning I had to fish it out and wash it. Somehow I’d dropped half my clothes in the bedroom and I had to tumble dry some leggings and pants. The leggings didn’t go with my top so I probably looked like one of the people on the bus the lady on Thursday was moaning about. On top of all the above the lid had come off a tube of moisturiser in my make up bag and there was sticky goo all over everything.

Of course, this meant I was running late. When I got outside it was drizzling so I caught the bus. Still, the swan family were there to greet me on the river. When they saw me they came swimming over. It was, undoubtedly cupboard love, they thought I had bread. Of course I didn’t.

The adult swan climbed out of the water and began to lumber clumsily up the bank while the cygnets looked on. Suddenly the cob (I think it was the cob anyway) decided he didn’t like the look of me after all, either that or he’d worked out I didn’t have any bread and was annoyed. He lifted himself up, stretched his neck and hissed. When I stayed where I was he began flapping his wings frantically at me. For a moment I thought he was actually going to take off and fly at me. That was my cue to beat a retreat. Enough things had gone wrong already, being attacked by a swan would have been a step too far.

The strange thing is, everyone else at work was having the same kind of day. Maybe it was something in the water? This didn’t make for the best of mornings with people dropping things, spilling things and generally bumping into things. Luckily it did get better as the day progressed and no one was actually hurt. Unfortunately, the bad luck seemed to have transferred itself elsewhere. There were disasters and chaos everywhere.

A big fire in Southampton closed roads and disrupted bus services. Of course the phones went wild. Then there were no less than three road accidents in the centre of Bristol causing total gridlock. Gridlock in Bristol is a fairly normal occurrence, it doesn’t take much, a crisp packet dropped in the road, an old lady taking a while to cross, this was gridlock on a monumental scale. There wasn’t time to think after that.

It was a relief when seven o’clock came round. In keeping with the rest of the day, it began to rain about two minutes after I left the office to walk home. Oh well, I guess we all have those days.

The relief didn’t last too long of course because, at five o’clock on Saturday morning I was dragging myself reluctantly out of bed getting ready to start all over again. Just after six I was plodding along the dark lonely walk to work. It is strange to see the city so quiet, hardly a car on the usually busy roads, shops and offices all shut. Part of the walk is very badly lit and I always hurry along. The bright lights of Cobden Bridge are a relief. Quite why I should feel so much safer in the light I don’t know because there is never a soul about.

It was a morning for trains. One clattered noisily over the bridge towards my village as I crossed the river adding a steak of light to the darkness I’d just walked through. As I passed under another train bridge further along not one but two trains whizzed overhead making a terrible racket. Yet another ran under horseshoe bridge as I approached it. Finally I was safe in the bright world of buses, albeit empty ones.

This will be the last dark, lonely Saturday morning walk. The clocks go back this weekend and next week dawn will be breaking when I set off for work. I look forward to it.