Returning from Manchester yesterday, I arrived at Oldham Mumps to find I had 15 minutes to wait for the next bus to Delph. I considered walking the next couple of stops to keep warm but decided that it was probably better to stay where I was in a bus shelter that protected me from the wind. An old chap asked if I knew what time the next 350 bus (my bus) was due. He couldn’t read the timetable as he did not have his glasses with him. And so we got into conversation. This is the gentleman I mentioned yesterday, the one with the house at Dobcross that he bought for £40,000 some 45 years ago. He told me he had been getting lost in Failsworth, another district of Oldham. A screen of some kind needed replacing in his house and he had gone looking for the shop in Failsworth where the original was bought those 45 years ago. Now that could well be a definition of optimism!
Needless to say he didn’t find a replacement because he didn’t find the shop, probably closed long since. And then he got lost, adding to the fruitlessness of his task. As we were talking we spotted a 356 bus, a service which also goes to Delph and Dobcross via a convoluted route, pulling into the next stop. Simultaneously we declared out inclination to catch that bus, despite its long and scenic route, because it would at least get us into a warmer place than the bus shelter.
So we continued our conversation on the bus. We swopped anecdotes about all sorts of things to do with travel, the bus service and so on. In the process I learnt a good deal of his life story. He was about to be 89, a very sprightly 89 I must say. Maybe some of this was down to his having been a competitive cyclist in his youth. He told me the story of how he met his wife, who died some 12 years ago now, their adventures meeting at various places when he was on leave from military service, pretty much his life story in effect.
At some point he commented on how few people bothered to talk to each other on bus journeys. Too many people just sit and stare at their mobile phones. (Some, of course, share their music, their podcasts and even their quite intimate conversations with all the other passengers.) I told him that I talk to anyone who is prepared to chat. When I got off in Delph village I promised to look out for him next time I go through Dobcross.
This morning I read this article in which Sangeeta Pillai sets out why she believes we British thank everyone too much.
I have also heard this accusation from friends and acquaintances in Spain. It seems we over-express our gratitude: “The problem is that we thank too many people, often mindlessly, and innumerable times a day. Thank you, shop assistant (whose job it is to help you shop). Thank you, bus driver (who is getting paid to drive the bus). Thank you, cafe owner (whom you are paying for the food you have ordered). By what feels like the hundredth thank you of the day, the words lose their very essence”
I beg to differ. Around here at any rate the shop assistants and bus drivers seem pleased to be thanked. They also appreciate the small children thanking them as they get off the bus. Sometimes it leads to mini-conversations. And we usually add to it, “Have a nice day!” Now, that may be an Americanism but it makes the world a more cheerful place! Thank you!
Thank you also to the jury in the a certain trial who chose to acquit the activists, the Filton Six, accused of aggravated burglary (all six acquitted), violent disorder (three acquitted) and criminal damage (three acquitted). Here’s a link to Jonathan Cook’s blogpost on that.
It took considerable courage, he said, for the jury in the that trial to ignore the demands to convict from the judge, the government, the police and the media and instead to weigh the actual evidence.
Sometimes common sense rules.
Life goes on. Stay safe and well, everyone!
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