Night Life

Have you ever been on a Night Bus?  Nor have I.  There we were, freshly decanted from the tube at Blackfriars Bridge after midnight, having arrived at Gatwick late.  No taxi in sight and then suddenly, I saw that the bus, which had arrived in front of us, was the one which passes our road.

Had it come home to roost, I asked the driver. Not at all the driver said. We'll be off in two minutes. Amazing! Particularly after jammed doors on the plane, an endless wait for luggage and, of course, a change of platform, as our 23.48 approached. 

An empty bus, empty streets and then the fun began: Approaching Islington, people piled in. A boy and a girl, clearly not sure whether they were going to get off together or not, a girl immersed in whatever her iPod had to offer, chaps talking loudly, straight out of the pub, Russian workers - or maybe some other slav nationality, checking stops, fearful of getting it wrong and so on. No limit whatsoever to the number of people who were let on. For once, good nature and understanding prevailed. Whoever wanted to get on, did.

Away from the buzzing nightlife, the bus started emptying out.  Only a handful remained as our street came into view, we got off and walked down our silent street.

We did not even have to pay, even though we had left our red bus passes at home! Perfect!