As I come to the end of my current job, with only six or seven more weeks of work left, I think I’ve become more accepting of the fact that it’s ridiculously hard to get home from Leeds, by bus, on a Friday.
Every other day of the week it’s fine. Days when I finish later I get home earlier than the one day a week I finish earlier because, for some reason, Arriva just drop the ball on a Friday.
And that ball contains most, if not all, of the buses to Huddersfield.
Which is just a tad annoying when you want to get to your home which happens to be just off the bus route, in Huddersfield.
But where once I would be kicking and screaming and tearing my hair out, I am now an island of calm in a sea of serenity. I don’t let it phase me. As the digital display counts down to the arrival of a Huddersfield bus only for it to vanish into the ether when it hits “Due” I just give my head a little shake and a wry smile crosses my face. It’s as though I’ve been told a joke to which I already knew the punchline. But it’s a joke that’s so predictable as to be strangely comforting.
I’m not sure I want to live in Overton, Wakefield, or Liversedge. Knowing that whatever the digital display claims the reason for the delays to be, that I would not be affected. Yesterday was the first bus stop closure for wind of the autumn-winter season and it didn’t even bother me one jot that I hoofed it through Leeds to the bus station only for the bus to drive to, and stop at, the closed stop just next to work. I’m a changed man. I’ve found my inner peace with the whole thing.
There’s no point fighting against the universe because the universe can fight back, especially on a Friday.
I’m going to miss standing for an hour, watching people come to the bus stop and leave on their bus, like I’m watching a time lapse film of the life cycle of an ecosystem through the seasons. People come and people go, and the one constant is me. Waiting for a bus that might take me further than Mirfield (one of the preferred alternative destinations of a Huddersfield bus) so that I can nestle in the loving bosom of my family and watch things from the Sky Planner.
I’m going to miss tweeting their customer services, only for them to feign any knowledge of the fact that they were cutting buses left right and centre and say that they need me to fill in an online form so they can investigate further. Not that I ever do that, because I just want them to know how shit they are. If they can’t improve without my guidance then how can they improve at all?
I started this year saying that 2016 was going to be better. And then I got made redundant, and my dad died. And so it got worse.
It’s good to see, though, that some things remain consistent.