"I don't like farting in the mornings," said the little boy with the wide innocent eyes, who could not have been more than 7.
"Mr Bus Driver," interrupted his sister. "How many cheeks do I have?"
"Well two, I suppose," I replied nervously, not knowing where this was going.
"No stupid. Four of course. I have two up here." She stuck her index fingers each side of her mouth. " And two down here where........."
"That's quite enough of that Geraldine," I stammered, not knowing where to look. Looking straight ahead was always the best option for a bus driver. It was even a pre-requisite for the job.
The tone lowered round the next where A bespectacled boy stood miserably in the rain. "Hey look - it's Farty", came the chorus from the back. It had only been a matter of time before someone added an F to Arty, the farmer's son. But he seemed oblivious to the cruel addition and sat quietly on the seat.
School buses haven't changed much.
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