So, after my recent documented escapades along the Manchester-Leeds train routes, I could be forgiven for making the trek again on Thursday afternoon with some trepidation. But it all went without incident. There were no out of place tornadoes, no suicidal badgers along the line.
But my travels wouldn’t be my travels without at least one memorable passage, and it was when I was returning home from Manchester on the 163 bus.
The bus pulled over at a stop and a woman got on, leading behind her a rather thin, mangy looking mongrel dog. “I’ve been waiting half an hour for this bus! I was gonna get on the 162 but the driver said it didn’t go to Heywood.”
“It does go to Heywood,” this driver replied.
“Well he said it didn’t.”
“Well it does.”
“It had Norden on the front.”
“Yes, but it goes to Heywood too.”
“I don’t even know where Norden is.”
“You could have still got on it,” he persevered.
“If I want to go to Norden then I’ll get a bleeding Norden bus!”
We curious passengers watched this exchange as she showed the beleaguered driver her ticket and moved along the aisle. The woman took a tartan rug out of her bag and spread it on the floor. “I have to do this so he will lie down,” she said, gesturing to her dog. “If not, he will stand all the way there.”
A man sat near the front asked “What, all the way to Norden?”
“ALL THE WAY TO HEYWOOD!!” she spat.
On we went.