"You're going to go the wrong way," cried the old lady. "Are you not figuring on going to Brampton?"
I was jolted back into full alertness and abruptly altered a gradual and gentle left hand turn at the T junction into an screeching right hander, which was uncomfortable for the passengers behind. "Bloody hell," said one of the college students who was awoken from his slumber. But all was well and the bus was safely back on its normal route.
I had been miles away, mulling over an aspect of the day not so long ago when I took some cyclists on a trip. When, at the end of the day it came to paying for the bus hire, the organiser had reached down the front of his cycling shorts and pulled out a wad of money wrapped in silver foil. "That's the best place to keep it dry," he told me with a serious face.
I've been washing my hands five times a day since then. I must be thankful as another driver reminded me that though it was an unpleasant place to store things - it could have been worse.
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