On the last day of August, I braved the buses. When I lived in London in 2013/2014, public transport, was the way most folk got around. Trains, tubes and buses, all the livelong day. I didn’t think anything of it. In London, many people don’t even own a car, let alone have access to one.
Outside of the Capital, it’s a different story. Most people have cars, most families have two. Buses are considered a tedious and expensive way to travel. Then there is the whole ‘Bus Wanker’ label, that has been delightfully attached, to this method of transport. There is an assumption that people who take buses, are poor and somehow less, than their car owning counterparts. Of all the things I thought I would be thinking about, an episode of The Inbetweeners, wasn’t one of them!
After avoiding it for several weeks, I took my daughter, on her very first bus ride. She loved it. One of my girlfriends came with me, for moral support and to tell me what to say to the bus driver. I was so nervous. I had spent my childhood and teen years, on and off buses with no issue. I had a period of 18 months, without a car, in my twenties so I was back on the buses then too. When you have to get somewhere, you just crack on with it. This felt different because it was different. This wasn’t a bus ride. This wasn’t a temporary arrangement, while I sort out an alternative. Outside of other people driving me, this is how I need to travel now.
It wasn’t bad at all. Much more expensive than I remember but fast and fuss free. It was nice to be out, passed the walking-distance locations. It felt good to go for a coffee, pick up some shopping and just do something I would do normally.
I felt like people would know I was a newbie. Like there would be some kind of tell. People would know why I have to take a bus or be making certain assumptions about me. Maybe they were. Maybe they didn’t notice me at all. Maybe I was just another mum on a bus. I don’t assume people who take the bus, are sick, disabled, poor, can’t drive or are less in some way than car drivers. Other people probably don’t give it a second thought either.
At the bus station on the way back, I could feel my anxiety start to swell in my stomach. My chest was tight. I felt very closed in. The bus shelter was large, loud and full of people milling about. My friend timed our bus journey perfectly so we weren’t waiting long. Before I knew it, we were off home again.
I took my first solo trip four days later, while my daughter was a school. I didn’t plan my journey ahead of time or look at any time tables – Rookie mistake! I had a 20 minute wait at the bus stop. I watched all the cars go by. My neighbours driving off to work. People walking passed, as they strolled, to the local shops. It felt odd. I felt exposed in some weird way. I didn’t hear my music play, there was no warmth and security of my car. Driving alone in my car felt great. Waiting alone at a bus stop didn’t.
I met my Mum in town. She got a Taxi to me for the first time ever. I ran a few errands and we were once again at the bus station. Without planning, we had a very long wait. The bus station was very busy, full of pensioners that day. Elderly couples talking, ladies discussing their routes and then a big group discussion, on the shocking service provided by local GPs. This then snowballed into various stories of ailments, illness, examples of rude receptionists and disinterested doctors and the obligatory list, of who had died that week.
I turned to my Mum. “If I wasn’t depressed before, I am now”.
We must have been sitting there for 30 minutes. I was glad to be out of there. One thing is for certain, I need to get my timings right. I can still get from A to B but the days of coming and going as I please, are behind me. I am determined to not let this get me down. I still have my independence. It’s different for sure but still there.
I was leaving my house this week and my neighbour asked where I was going. I was just popping to the High Street. Her response;
“Awwwww you have to get a bus”.
Pity is a strange thing to be on the receiving end of. Makes trying to be positive very easy!
Ha! That’s my sarcasm. I have mastered that. Everything else is a work in progress!