I had an appointment this morning at 11 and I made my way down in the sparkling sunlight whilst trying not to skid on any ice that covered my path all the way down the hill, only to watch my bus pass me by, but as I continued further, I missed the next bus which carried on behind it. So I had missed two busses and so I sat down, and prepared for a long wait. Luckily enough the bus stop had a seat and was glazed in beautiful warm sunlight and so I took out Woolf’s Between the Acts and started reading. I was perfectly happy as I plunged deep into the going ons’ of my book, as the characters watched one another’s movements in preparation of a play.
And so, my bus arrived. I put the book away as I liked to watch people and the scenery when on a short journey, and I arrive at my destination.
I find out that my appointment was cancelled and I leave in anger; remembering how I had missed two busses, and was going to end up spending £2.40 for nothing. I make my way to the bus stop which is around a ridiculously curvy corner to hear the bus roar behind me, at first I ignore it, but as it approaches the stop, I make a dash for it, and I’ve made it.
I sat on the bus angered and tiered and pondering about how I had been rudely pulled away from my desk, but then I thought, “NO” I won’t be angry. And so I took my book out again, falling into the beauty of the scenery and the poetry of the language, realising that everything was okay, and that at least I managed to get some reading done before my day of work begun.