Feisty Bus Ride!

Today I responded quite out of character, to a fellow passenger....

I arrived at a vacant position, just at the "step-up" approaching the back of the bus (a location I quite like as it provides a good view of the journey ahead as well as other passengers) only I was prevented from taking the seat as the woman sitting near to the window had her bag spread across the spare seat.

"I'd like to take this seat?" I simply stated.

Adopting a curt tone, she retorted, "There are other seats aren't there?" which made me more determined to sit in the seat of my choice, so in answer to her reaction I held my stance. "I like this position, and I believe each of us has purchased one ticket to occupy one seat." She swiped her bag onto her lap and indignantly mumbled to herself, making me feel most unwelcome, as I sat beside her.

I then found myself mirroring what she had continued to do with her bag. Angrily wallop it down on her lap and wriggle it to one side and then to the other, before settling. What was I doing? I allowed principle, to get the better of me.

I put my head in my novel, which I continued to read until it was time to exit the bus.

The woman to my side, did not say a word once I'd sat next to her and busied herself by completing crosswords.

My journey to work was not straight forward, so this tail-end experience was like the icing on the cake!

The regular bus arrived at the usual time. Like any other day, the people that got on, I recognised. The day started well...

The driver, approximately two thirds of the way along the route, decided to stop the bus to examine one of the dual-doors that seemed to be sticking, remaining in a closed position. He tried to adjust it and got a cloth to wipe his hands. He could not fix the door, only made it worse, but proceeded to the next stop where he announced that this was the end of the journey!

Thanks to First Bus I either have to make up the time or loose that many minutes pay for being late!

If only the woman on the bus, that I'd waited 30, long minutes for, that took me the final stretch of my journey to work had been content with one seat, I would have just experienced a disruptive journey and not a selfish passenger too!

Life, Love, Friendships...

My captivating read this week, made me feel and breath community life in Ireland, so much so I have added the two locations mentioned in the book to my "bucket list", the coastal villages of Glenmara and Kinnabegs, West of Ireland.

The thimble is a gold one that she had from her Mother, a keepsake treasured after her Mum died.

There are some brilliant descriptions created by this author that I'd like to share:

"Interludes of conversation and companionable silence."

"Talk moving too rapidly for her to comment; words darting and swooping like an agitated flock of swallows."

"Her tears smeared the landscape into an impressionist painting, colours and shapes blurring, sobs audible blocking out all sound except that of her own voice."

There are issues: of jealousy amongst the lacemakers, wife beating, how change can disrupt a community built around tradition and ancestry, how villagers rally around each other - all engaging.

The Lacemakers prove enterprising and the twists of fate kept me forging through the pages....

When I reached the end though, the very last sentence was disappointingly, "It all remains to be seen."

I so wanted to know whether Kate's relationship with Sullivan leads to marriage?

At the start, I also wanted to know something of her experience in fashion, prior to her decision to travel across Ireland.

I am glad to have read this moving and very charming novel.

Tourette Syndrome

I became aware of other passengers on the bus when I heard his loud declaration... "Its alright,I've got Tourette Syndrome." "It's alright,I'm on medication..." Just as I lifted my head out of my book he asked of the passengers, "Has anyone heard of Tourette Syndrome?"

In the absence of any kind of reply, I returned to my reading. Only his continuous banter kept taking my attention.

What does that say about my novel,I wonder?

He'd sat at the front of the bus which surprised me a bit. He leaned forward in the seat with his legs stretched out which revealed his worn and dirty white trainers. He periodically scanned the passengers behind so I could readily see from out of his knitted hat, his ginger beard and 'tash which almost covered his face. I tried once again to read on, making a conscious effort to shut out the character that had become a point of curiosity.

"Have a nice day" he'd call out in a friendly manner, as each passenger attempted to get off the bus.

He seemed unsettled, giving the odd kick to the side of the bus whilst randomly blurting out "Tits", "Wank" followed by repeated apologies, "Sorry about that, sorry about that".

From the corner of my eye, I could see the occasional rude gesture. By this time my reading made no sense at all and even though I tried to get to grips with the storyline I found myself returning to passages I'd already read, as none of it seemed to sink in.

Not a good journey for reading, but the book came in handy to prevent any likely dialogue in his efforts to engage with the passengers that were just aimlessly surviving their daily and laborious journey to work.

"Do you originate from Japan?", I heard him question a passenger who'd just boarded the bus and taken a seat behind him. "Not being funny", he said in the next breath, to justify the nature of his enquiry. "Malaysia" came a soft reply. "Did you live there?" came another question. "I've only been to Spain", he continued. "I'd love to go to Japan,to see their video games." In the silence that followed, he addressed the full bus of passengers, "I'm in a bit of a chatty mood".

"Not too far now." "Nice chatting to you." he said as the guy from Malaysia made his exit. "I should have guessed he was from Malaysia." "I like x-box games." "Japan is the best place for that." "I'm well into it." "They're crazy about RPG games." "I'm in a bit of a chatty mood", he concluded.

He mumbled as he turned to face the front of the bus again, shoulder shrugging alongside involuntary grunting sounds and a blurt of "Tits", "Wank" with yet more gestures...

"I owed £60." "I was going to pay back 25, but it's down to 10 now!" He's going to beat me up". He's stronger than me." "I don't believe in fighting." "Never had a fight in my life." "I'm not strong." "My legs are strong, as I played football when I was young". "I'm in a bit of a chatty mood", he declared again as he gave another kick to the side of the bus.

He greeted a couple who had just taken their seats, who said, "Hello", back. "You say hello to an older person and they say hello back but someone age 18 or 19 won;t say hello back." he shared with the new passengers. "Tits". "Wank". "Its alright, I've got Tourette Syndrome." "It's alright,I'm on medication..."

He rose from his seat and bid farewell to all of us and got off the bus.

Part of me considered the chap very brave to sit at the front, where he would be a target of observation or was he happy receiving attention? Whilst I actively tried to look away and not let my curiosity get the better of me, as this was my first direct exposure of Tourette Syndrome, I questioned myself, that in today's climate of inclusion, were my actions right?

I closed my book and gave up on my daily opportunity to read.

How would you have responded?

"The present colours the past"... ????

An off-beat choice of reading for me,a novel "Tatty" by Christine Dwyer Hickey,I purchased from a book sale fundraising event that needed support.

It has taken me the whole week to reach the end of the story that transpired to be a heartbreaking tale set in Dublin, S. Ireland, about a tough childhood. It takes place between 1964 to 1974.

Tatty's unpredictable reception at home, her home life and her underlying yearning to share the reality of how she is actually treated and made to feel (which leads her to persist in being creative with the truth) left me pondering, to write such a moving and candid account, the author surely must has lived and breathed such experiences first-hand.

Even at the end, it took a major incident involving her Mother to generate a promise of change by the parents,which I believe would never be forthcoming. In a domestic situation such as presented in this novel,I could only hope that in time, Tatty would allow, "the present to colour the past"(Freud)

Next week calls for some light reading!

St Patrick's Day

An American with Irish connections once invited me to a celebration of Paddy's Day at her home and goodness.... the trimmings and food were extensive.

I thought I was a bordering OTT wearing token emerald green on the day, whether at work or not and leaving my home with a banner stretched across the lounge as well as a few green balloons decorated with shamrocks!

It is in my blood, I guess, not to let the day pass without some splash of emerald green alongside shamrock.

It is written that St Patrick introduced shamrock to Ireland in 433 AD - the National emblem of Ireland and the symbol of good luck!

One year I had fresh shamrock flown over from Ireland to wear on the day. Another year, a small florist surprised me by sourcing some bunches from the early morning flower market. It looks just like a weed but it doesn't prevent me from wearing a clump on "Paddy's Day".

I believe the younger generation should be more conscious of Saint's Days - be as aware of their origins just as they have developed an understanding of and respect for world religions.

My Mum back in the late eighties, helped me to write a greeting in Irish to put in a St Patrick's Day card which read, "Lá' le Pádraig Síocháin Neannachtai na Féile Pádraig"!

Many a time, I am thankful for having "the gift of the gab"!

Happy celebrating or raising your awareness to St Patrick's Day...

Mother's Day..

When my children were young, on Mothering Sunday they would be given daffodils at the end of Sunday School, to give to me.

They would either make a card, create and illustrate a verse/poem or draw/paint a picture to give to me under the supervision of a school teacher.

As children grow older so they loose the Primary School setting that devotes time and actively encourages children, to think about their Mums and to celebrate Mother's Day.

Today, now teenager's, independently each member of my family has chosen to join forces to buy a card and gift between them and to write their individual messages inside their greeting to endorse their love and gratitude.

For me, to know they wish to be in my company and make time to do so, is the icing on the cake! When it happens, its heart-warming and generates a peace of mind.

When their friends visit, I am interested in what they say and make a conscious effort to listen attentively. Each time I receive positive responses from their friends, it serves as a reminder to make time for my children, as in doing so, they will want to make time for me and are more likely to talk with me and share their news.


My Mum loved violets and whilst hard to find, or it felt a long time waiting for them to be in season, it was very satisfying sourcing some to give to her, whether it was Mother's Day or not.

There is nothing quite like the love of your Mum. Unfortunately, it takes some people until they have a family of their own, to start to open their eyes and hearts to the many things Mums' do and to truly value their unstinting love and support.

If you are a Mum... Happy Mother's Day.
If you are a son or daughter... make time for your Mum.

Remember, "As you sow, so shall you reap"!

I have been reading a book "The Shaking Woman" described as a unique neurological memoir by Siri Hustvedt who attempted to solve her own mysterious condition, who has long been a brilliant explorer of brain and mind.

I came across words in it today that sum up what I experienced when my late husband died suddenly... "a form of speechlessness that's located in an ongoing present" alongside "a feeling of invasion and loss of control"... Wow that's just a starter..

I also came across something else written and quite true which was very thought provoking.. and I hope you will agree, worth sharing.
"When my children were young I feasted on their faces - the pleasure of looking at them". That's what I did and still do!

"Sights, sounds, smells, sensations, emotions, other people, thoughts and language are within each of us"... This made me reflect on my experiences working within a primary school setting. How giving children the opportunity to speak, to be listened to, to develop observation as well as opinion, is so vital to building vocabulary, empowering dialogue and the written word.

"What runs in at our eyes or ears is meant to run out at our hands/feet and lips."

Before this gets any deeper, I will leave you to your own "input"!

This book is heavy going in places yet compelling. I saw Siri interviewed whilst promoting this book which drew me to explore further. I'm half way through the novel and it's Thursday so my aim this year of reading one book per week is going to be a close call!

Thrown forward in my seat as the bus drew to an abrupt halt, so my eyes met a boy on the other side of the window, wearing school uniform, standing at the edge of the pavement holding onto his scooter, waiting to safely cross the road.

He stared at me, almost mesmerized, as I continued to bite into my nearly ripe banana.

I was eating healthily. I was snatching some "on-the-go" breakfast. Why the look, though? Why did he take such apparent notice? I could only think he was unable to relate the banana to my age or eating such a thing on a bus, perhaps?

What would our days transpire to be like? I found myself wondering, he at school and myself at work? For certain, each was likely to learn something today. Each coud hope to anticipate in and was likely to participate in some playful moments and each would have a lunch break to look forward to.

As my journey to work proceeded from the next bus stop, my attention transferred to a woman assertively heading towards me wearing a black beret and a black short length blazer. What captured me the most about her, was her heavy floral-lace tights that led to a pair of turn-up denim shorts that conflicted with her heavy powdered face, bright lips and sagging jawline, each facial feature providing clues to her age. As she took a seat, her distinctive pure white, link strapped watch on her left wrist made me glance further to a wide contemporary silver band upon her marital figure. Both wrists were like a walking advertisement for Accessorize as her bracelets jangled with her every movement.

My daily lone read had become intermittent as I continued to observe this passenger who was clearly oblivious to the cold weather and could only see the stream of early springtime sunlight.

My banana was by now demolished...
I returned to my "read-of-the-week"
and 10th novel of this year, by Author
& according to newspaper,Independent on Sunday,
"Master Storyteller" Patrick Gale;
title "The Whole Day Through",
described as a bittersweet love story.

I was busy quenching a long-term curiosity to read a romantic novel by a male author.... to page 211 and only 2 more gripping chapters to go, with my destination approaching far too quickly!