Signs of spring and some great teamwork

23 to 28 February 2015

Yet again, Sunday was my only real walking day last weekend. Most of my time was taken up with food shopping, cooking and house selling. Not my house of course but it was still pretty stressful and upsetting. The moment had finally come to say goodbye to Commando Senior’s house and, while it would bring closure of a kind, it also brought a few tears. After all, this was the house Commando was born in and the last place I saw my wonderful Father in Law. Unfortunately, things didn’t run as smoothly as they could have but that’s a story for another day I think.

When I set off for work on Wednesday morning. My main concern was getting there before the grey clouds decided to drop anything on me and to keep my eyes peeled for any new signs of spring. The former I managed, just about, the latter, not so much. The primroses were still surviving despite the grupel and ice over the weekend but they are hardly new. On the grass bank beside the Millennium Flats daisies are springing up but, to be honest, they’ve been there for a while. That was the sum total of the spring progress. There was a rather spectacular sunset when I went for my evening break but it was slightly spoiled by being viewed across the bus depot car park. Hardly on a par with the views from the penthouse suite but, still, beggars can’t be choosers.

A thick, flat white cloud hid the sky when I looked through the gym window on Thursday morning. It had a purple grey quality that made me think of snow but, when the time to go outside came, unrelenting drizzle was falling. If it hadn’t been for the roadworks on the bridge I might have considered getting the bus, as it was I pulled my hood up, put my head down and marched my way through it. By the time I got to the Triangle, I was decidedly cold and soggy. The tree by the railway bridge looked as miserable as I felt and the one tiny spot of cheer in the journey came from the yellow catermaran sitting in a sea of drizzly grey.

In the office the cheer was mainly down to the huge mountain of cakes the RCSM had brought with her. At this rate I shall be sending her the bill for new trousers in a larger size. There was an issue with the call recording equipment and I got the task of going into the server room to help the IT man log on remotely to fix it. Nobody warned me it was like an ice box in there. When I came out I was blue with cold and had to have a coffee to thaw my hands out.

Most of the afternoon was spent dealing with a flurry of Social Media Idiots complaining that they weren’t allowed to bring their bikes on the bus. Maybe I’ve missed the point somewhere but surely the whole point of  a bike is riding it, not taking it around with you on a bus? Still, what do I know? The fact that there simply isn’t room on a bus for a pushbike or three didn’t seem to be an adequate explaination for the Social Media Idiots and they continued to post ridiculous demands, insults and accusations of discrimination into the evening. Apparently, taking a bike on a bus is a basic human right even if it does mean all the other passengers break their necks climbing over it and the disabled have to sit at the bus stop in the rain because there’s a bike stopping them getting on. I’m waiting for the motorcyclists to start lobbying for spaces on the bus next.

My favourite winter weather is bright and frosty and that was just what I got for my Friday walk to work.  For a change I thought I’d walk across the Big Bridge to see how the road works were progressing, it’s been a while after all. As I passed the fancy gates to the footpath by the Manor House I could see sunlight glinting on the water and a couple standing on the shore. If I could have had one wish right then it would have been to have the day to myself and time to go for a wander down there, well that and world peace plus perhaps a little lottery win. I did just step inside the gates for a moment and have a longing look but it didn’t help much.

There were three workmen on the bridge, which is three more than I’ve seen before. What they were doing is a mystery but there has been some progress and one side of the road is now covered with concrete, well some of it is anyway. On Summer Street there were flower buds on the pyracantha, a real sign of spring even if it was still frosty and cold.

The swans looked happy paddling in the sun as I turned the corner and, on the boardwalk I met up with Paddy and his owner. Paddy came running up to me excitedly wagging his tail and, after I’d smoothed him a little and he’d settled down, we walked along together chatting. We parted on Horsehoe Bridge where the frost was still white on the sleepers. Then it was time to go into the office.

We had a cheery morning, nice calls and a little office banter. The afternoon was in stark contrast, one horrible call after another for all of us along with a couple of accidents and some major traffic jams. A man called very unhappy with the leg room on our buses. Apparently, as he’s six foot tall there just isn’t enough room for his legs and we are damaging his knees by forcing him to sit in these cramped conditions. He’s thinking of suing us.

“We have brand new buses on your route sir,” I assured him. “They actually have more leg room than the older ones.”
“That’s all very well if you’re a short arse,” he said. This didn’t exactly endear him to me given I am actually one of the aforementioned short arses. “I’m six foot tall, there’s not enough room for me.”
“So, how often do you catch the bus?” I wondered.
“About once a week when I go shopping,” he said.
“And how long is your journey from the shops to home?” I asked.
“Twenty minutes,” he said.
“I’m happy to log your complaint and pass it to the depot but I’m afraid the new vehicles meet all the regulations. They have far more leg room than an aircraft and those are designed for people to spend several hours on, not a few minutes.”
“I shall be consulting my solicitor about claiming damages,” he said and put the phone down. Believe it or not, that was one of the better calls I took. Some people just have far too much time on their hands.

My final walk to work of the week was a wet one. The drizzly rain was back but slightly more rain than drizzle this time. All in all it was a fairly dismal walk and even the little boats on the river looked fairly dismal. When I got to the slipway I couldn’t help but smile at the raindrops all along the slats of the old bench glittering under the street light. The rain may not be nice to walk in but add a little light and it does make everything sparkle. There was a single, beautiful sign of spring on the edge of the shrubbery outside the office, a bejewelled crocus, alone amid the heathers and weeds.  It was hard to believe that that Saturday brought the last day of the month. February has flown past and spring is so close I can smell it.

After I’d opened up the office I made myself a warm drink, switched off the answerphone and started to catch up on the social media. When Sabrina didn’t turn up at half past seven I wasn’t too worried, assuming her train was probably late. Then the first few calls started coming in, lost property from Friday night and Saturday morning timetable queries. Before I knew it it was eight o’clock and there was still no sign of Sabrina. I sent her a text to ask if she was ok but she didn’t reply. This was not good, especially on a weekend when Mia wasn’t supposed to be coming in until eleven.

By eight thirty I was convinced something terrible must have happened to her and the phones were getting busy. In desperation I texted Mia to ask if she could possibly get in any earlier. Bless her heart she said she would get the next bus. Not long after she texted me to say she was on the bus I finally heard from Sabrina. There had been no horrible train crash, no accident or any of the other equally horrible things I’d been imagining. She’d simply forgotten to set her alarm.

At nine o’clock, when she eventually arrived it turned out that wasn’t the whole story. She had arrived minus her pass card and high vis jacket so I had to put my caller on hold to open the door and let her in. Once she’d finished apologising for being so late she rather shamefacedly told me she hadn’t actually been home from the night before. Not only that but she was wearing last night’s clothes and when she went to the loo she discovered she had her pants in back to front! That, in a nutshell, is what alcohol will do to you. Luckily, Mia saw the funny side of it and we both spent the morning mercilessly teasing Sabrina.

Amid all the teasing and the groans from Little Miss Hungover, we actually did some work. For once the phones were fairly quiet apart from a rash of pensioners who had lost their free bus passes on various buses and we worked hard to get our outstanding cases closed. At the same time, the RCSM was working on her own cases from her home office. As she can’t print from there she assigned them to me to print off, PP for her and send out. There was a point when I had so many letters on my desk to sign I was accidentally PPing my own letters. The RCSM found that hilarious when I told her.

At the end of the day we had closed a record number of cases and the RCSM was sending delighted messages to tell us how proud she was of us. She was especially impressed with Mia who’d closed almost a hundred cases all on her own and cleared her backlog completely. When I texted Mia to tell her she was amazing and I was proud of her she almost made me cry by replying with “No, you’re amazing. You’re a great team leader.” In the midst of all the horrible shouty callers, nannying social media idiots and nasty emails, these are the things that make it all bearable.