I ran to catch
the bus with a suitcase, scraping it on the automatic doors as they swung shut on me. The bus driver looked non-plussed.
An old man
is sat by the window in the priority seat, looking out. Heavy-set in a khaki
utility jacket, with a fake Royal Air Force patch sewn on to the arm.
Headphones in, thick optical glasses, hairy jowls and a drooping face, like a walrus.
The bus pulls
in.
A new old
man boards the bus. He looks like a thumb, the end of a starfish. Wide smile and
making conversation with the driver, unsuccessfully. He sits by the walrus,
who takes no notice of him. This new old man’s face is round and soft from
all the dopey warmth he emits. He wears a flat-cap, which he doffs and places on his lap.
‘Is warm
today.’
‘What?’
The jowly old man pulls out his earphones and glances at his neighbour.
‘It’s warm
today.’ Gives him a big grin.
‘It’ll
rain later on.’
‘The sun
is shining.’
‘No, it’s
cloudy.’
‘I can see
the sun, shining, will get hot!’
‘No, it’s
cold. It’ll rain later on.’
‘I can see
the sun – ha ha.’
‘The sun’s
over there trying to come out from behind them clouds.’
‘It is
bright – ha ha… I’m joking. Is a joke.’ The walrus grunts and turns
away, annoyed. ‘You have to laugh: life.’
