Shades of grey

11 – 14 February 2015

No, I’m not talking about the book Fifty Shades, or the film, I’m talking about the weather this week. Dull and grey was the order of the day on Wednesday and I was feeling rather grumpy and full of cold. This winter seems to have been one cold after another and I’m beginning to think someone should be spraying people down with disinfectant as they enter the office. On a whim I decided to walk across the Big Bridge for a change, seeing as the traffic didn’t look too bad for once. Besides I would be on the pavement so once I’d crossed the road traffic was immaterial really.

When I looked out from the bridge the tide was so low I could barely see any water. Little boats sat on the mud and several wrecks that can’t usually be seen were revealed along with lots of other, unidentified debris. By the rocks a lone swan turned and hissed at me angrily. Perhaps I’m getting a reputation for not having bread. Nervously I scurried past, an angry swan is not to be trifled with.

Once I’d safely passed I stopped to have a look at the hippie ship slowly decaying on the corner. It’s been a while since I walked along the boardwalk so, when I saw Paddy and his owner coming towards me, I wondered if my little Staffie friend would even remember me. Obviously dogs have longer memories than I thought because, as soon as he saw me, he came galloping excitedly at me wagging his tail. That certainly brightened my day.

The RCSM was in the office again when I got there and the rest of us were still very thin on the ground. Of course this made for a busy, rather fraught day but at least there were no more performance meetings. The most interesting exercise of the day was looking through some CV’s from new applicants for the customer service department. The RCSM had already narrowed them down considerably so I was giving my opinion on the best of the bunch. Some had no relevant experience of any kind, others had spelling and grammatical mistakes, one seemed to have never stayed anywhere for more than six months. Out of ninety we ended up with just six worth interviewing. This was something I found quite shocking.

The greyness continued into Thursday morning but this time I walked across Cobden Bridge. Here the water was as grey as they sky and even my favourite blue boatyard seemed just another shade of grey. The only colourful thing was my bright red nose as far as I could tell.

In in the sick room, I mean office, there were just four of us. The noise of coughing and nose blowing all but drowned out the ringing phones. We struggled through the day as best we could, not assisted much by a major accident that closed the motorway almost all day and sent traffic spilling out to clog up the entire city. There was bad news too when we found out a bus driver who’d had a heart attack at the wheel a few days before had lost his fight for life. The mood was as grey and miserable as the weather.

First thing on Friday morning I got a text from one of the sick but still standing members of staff to say she had giving up on the standing part and wouldn’t be in. Another one bites the dust were the first words that sprang to mind. That meant there was one poor girl manning the office alone until I got in so I got my skates on to try to get to work as soon as I could. Unfortunately, this didn’t work out quite as well as I’d hoped.

When I reached the crossing by the station the air was filled with sirens so, although the lights were red for the traffic, I didn’t dare cross. A police car somehow made it through the gridlock and sped off to the left. By this time the lights had changed again so I had to stand and wait. A few minutes later, just as I was again preparing to cross, there were more blues and twos and another police car sped through my red light. This time it turned right.  By now the nights had changed again and I had a while to stand wondering what was going on and if one of the police cars was lost. When it happened a third time, with this police car going straight ahead, I was really puzzled but I did at least manage to cross the road.

On my way towards Cobden Bridge there was one last lot of sirens, this time an ambulance which passed me and carried on in the direction I was walking. That was when I remembered it was Friday 13. Perhaps there really were three different accidents or incidents all happening at the same time after all. Feeling it was going to be one of those sorts of days I popped into the Tesco Express and bought a huge box of heart shaped biscuits for what was left of my team. We were probably going to need them.

The view from the bridge was a carbon copy of Thursday, except colder and windier, so I didn’t take a photo, although I did stop on the slipway to take a couple of shots just to love how grey and miserable it was.

When, in an email conversation, I joked with the RSCM that we should have a quarantine sign on the office door due to all the sickness, she responded with a very appropriate email attachment. A bit of printing and some sellotape later and the sign was in place. Sadly, no one brought us any chocolate but it did make us laugh for a while and laughter is the best medicine they say.

Given the date it’s wasn’t surprising when it turned out to be a day of accidents. At one point we had two buses completely stuck. They were on a diversion to avoid one accident when another happened on the diversion route. Then a car decided to take a short cut across the shiny new central reservation barriers on the motorway. They’d only just been put up after the lorry crashed through them the day before. We were flat out on the phones dealing with the fall out.

Sadly, the early morning walk on Saturday morning was also grey with a touch of mist. The river was mirror calm, not even a hint of a breeze and the lights of the houses and boats around the bay twinkled on the water. From the jetty the blue grey of the overcast dawn was brightened by the river side lights and the yellow catamaran surrounded by mist. What an eerie walk.

Things brightened up a little later in the morning, giving the city the first glimpse of blue sky all week.  It didn’t last though and before long rain was dashing against the office windows and we were back to grey, dark grey this time. The week ended with one of the most bizarre calls I’ve had so far in my bus complaints career.

“I want to make a complaint,” a very angry sounding man cut me off as I was saying good afternoon. “The timetable says the bus is due at four fifty and it’s not here yet.”
“It’s four forty eight,” I said, looking at the clock on my computer.
“I know that, but where is the bus?”
“About two minutes away I should think.”
“So are you going to take my complaint or what?”
“I could, if the bus was late, but it isn’t.”
“Well that’s not very helpful is it? In fact I think I want to make a complaint about you, call yourself a customer services department. I call with a genuine complaint and you try to fob me off.”
“Ok,” I sighed, knowing there was no point in arguing. “Can I take your name?”
“What do you want my name for?”
“To take your complaint About me.”
“Shouldn’t someone else take it, I mean, how do I know you’ll actually write it down seeing it’s about you? Oh, just forget it, my bus is here now anyway.”
It was my last call of the day, a suitably strange encounter to end a very strange week.

The grey week ended on a pleasant note. Commando and I returned to the scene of our first meeting for the Valentine’s Day meal I booked up on my Tuesday walk. The restaurant seemed very romantic with red roses and candles on every table. The darkness outside the windows meant we couldn’t see the river, which was a shame, but the meal was nice. At least I think it was, my bunged up nose meant I didn’t taste much of it if I’m honest. Still, the company was perfect.