dressed inappropriately on an unusually warm day for April, i walked down to the Shorehead in glorious sunshine to catch a bus to Kirkcaldy. by the time i arrived at the bus depot, i was sweltering in my sheepskin coat. i arrived to see my bus begin to reverse out from its stance. i frantically motioned to the driver; hoping to appear hopeless, appealing to his kind side and that he’d let me on-board.
he flatly ignored me. he just looked right through me. “eurgh!” i grunted, heading off to the kiosk for a cup of crap coffee.
i checked the information boards; the next bus to Kirkcaldy was in twelve minutes. it was the X60 bound for Edinburgh. an express bus to Kirkcaldy. ‘excellent!’ i thought to myself and stood outside in the sunshine, clad in sheepskin and looking ridiculously overdressed for this fine sunny day.
the bus arrived on time and i embarked, paying the driver £4.10 for a window seat and air conditioning. the cold blast of air to the face felt good and refreshing. thanks to crap coffee and aircon, i slowly began to feel more alive.
a ticket inspector boarded the bus at East Wemyss, singing ‘Creep’ by Radiohead at the top of his voice. ‘christ!’ i thought. ‘he either loves his job or he gets paid too much money!’
“ticket please…” he said to me “you float like a feather… in a beautiful world…”
i fumbled around for my ticket and finally found it, scrunched up in the left hand pocket of my coat.
“you’re so very special… i’m a creep… oh thank you very much, my dear!” he sang, as i showed him my crumpled ticket. “nice day for it!”
‘nice day for what?!’ i thought to myself, smiling to the man. ‘my day has barely begun and, outwith the cocoon of my lover’s bedroom, it’s already shaping up to be one of those days…’
i gazed out the window at an allotment community area. suddenly i found myself transported back in time. to time when i was seven years old and my father was still alive. he loved his garden. he loved his allotment. and i loved to visit the allotment with him and help him tend to his vegetables. i found myself back in a time when i was missing milk teeth; a time when i had sticky plasters on my knees from falling out of trees; a time when i would potter about the allotment with my Dad – howking up potatoes and hewing carrots and rhubarb. happy daze…
a text comes in from my youngest niece – inviting me to go shopping with her and drink in the sun. ‘oh if only i could, Katy… if only i could’ i thought to myself, smiling, longingly.
i glanced back out the window and gather my thoughts: the sun is shining, yet i am working; it’s pay day, yet i’m broke; but i am healthy, happy and in love.
what more could a girl want? i mean, really…
(c) Kat McDonald 2014