Somewhere in Manchester 7.30am.
I didn't fancy reversing through the narrow gates into the school yard. "We've just had new ones fitted," said the teacher proudly. The prospect of reversing past the steel railings on the road which had already been bent by others who had tried before me, was not appetising. Seeing two more sets of gates beyond the railings and the odd angle needed to swerve into the car park I decided it looked foolish even for an expert bus driver to attempt. For the Accidental Bus Driver to have a go, would be akin to Benny Hill entering the Triathlon.
The teacher said nothing, but from her unimpressed look, she obviously felt I could have done better. I retired to the the seat in the park opposite the bus with the two pieces of toast I had been given by the Breakfast Club cook. I sat and watched commuter Manchester wake up, get going and pass by.
Well try to pass by. Because I was parked in the road, the double decker drivers had to inch slowly past. Glaring at me as they passed, instantly clocking me as the driver who had caused this obstruction.
If looks could kill.
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