A wild wind was whipping around the bus station, great lumbering beasts of red arrived and departed, wheezing their way to a stop, waiting for the frozen masses to climb aboard, before lurching off again. But my bus was nowhere to be seen as yet. I shivered, turned the page of book and waitied.
A man approached, I removed my earphones and he dutifully waited for my ears to be clear. Then he spoke.
"Douse thylg bluas gao on bouettersee?"
"I'm sorry I don't understand," I replied, with perfect diction.
"Doses buas ga ta buttersee?"
"Sorry?"
"Bootersee?"
"Oh, Battersea?
"Yes, Bootersee."
"Oh I see, you need to get the 344, it'll be here in two minutes."
"Ah...noot the woon fiv sex?" he said, spying the 156 listed as going to Bootersee, I mean Battersea, as well.
"No, the 156 is very slow, take the 344."
"Ukay."
Then, a 77 turned up. The man pointed to it, as it passed.
"Bootersee?" he asked, hopefully.
"No, the 344, it'll be here in one minute."
"Ukay."
One minute later the 344 turned up. He turned and looked at me, but before he could open his mouth, I said,
"Yes, Bootersea, 344."
"Thunk youa," he replied.
He was a polite chap.
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