Buses

Mar 102014
 

“Do I look like someone who needs a sorbet-maker?” he dolefully asks the bleary-eyed flotsam piled up on the N3’s stairs as birthday gifts are passed between strangers for appraisal.

Aug 152012
 

She was far too old for him; and he was far too gay for her; but, that night on the 188, he thought what the hell, and took her dancing.

Aug 072012
 

Oooh, Argos! she squealed, teetering on the seat to press her face to the window as we ground up Kentish Town Road. Unamazed, her mother pointed out it was Poundstretcher.

Feb 052012
 
The Magic Open-Top Number 11

by Jamie Mitchinson
I’m crossing the road near Liverpool Street. My senses feel oddly heightened, though I’m not sure why. And, even so, I nearly miss it. Or, to put it another way, it nearly hits me. So practised am I at spotting the shape of my habitual single decker that when the open-top number 11 comes, I blank it out. [read more...]