The boot was on the other foot today.
It was the wife who was struggling with tailgating bus drivers, three inches from her bumper. It exuded a satanic appearance, she thought, with its black paintwork and smoked glass windows. What betrayed its demonic air, however was the School Bus sign with children's symbols in black on a yellow background. She giggled as the bus shot past her and wondered if the children were also enjoying their journey and whether this was how her husband usually drove.
I, on the other hand was on dogsitting/child minding duties, as the bus world is quiet at the moment. Quiet before the mad summer rush. It was one of those incredible days where everything was perfect. The hard frost had made the landscape crunchy and white until mid morning. Then as the temperature rose, a blanket of fog rolled down from the summit of the hills, like a dry ice experiment in the school lab. It appeared like rolling waves. When it went there was just the warm sun and azure blue skies all around.
The countryside was happy. The birds were singing. The sheep were racing all over the countryside. The lambing season is imminent. What was remarkable about this beautiful day was the stillness. Bar the odd low flying Eurofighter Typhoon and distant tractor, the silence was deafening and eloquent.
It was a rare treat. No noisy buses. No passengers. Life can be tough.
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