The Last Furlong

Comments on the race of life.

Taking the bus

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The busses here are fantastic! I’ve made two trips into town now – and tomorrow Mr Furlong is coming too.

The bus is full of oldies all using their bus-passes. Everyone is frightfully friendly. I am thoroughly enjoying riding the bus.

I can be back home within an hour, having done a few things in town and wizzed home to the bus-stop a few paces round the corner.

I was thinking, though, about the ability of us oldies to make conversation. Conversation is a social skill. I think oldies have got it in chunks.  I’ve been on busses before. No one has been chatty to me – much. Once I went back to the village on the school bus. THAT was hell! The noise was unbearable echoing through my hearing aids. The kid behind me kicked the back of my seat the whole way, until I turned round and said “Stop that!” in my best teacher voice. Henceforward he dropped his head on the back of the seat and sulked till I got off the bus.

I much prefer “oldies”. I feel at home. They seem to be having such fun.

I’m glad to be one.


Author: Elizabeth

I'm someone also pounding the Path, just like you.. I'm retired, going into Old Age and loving my life. I'm hoping to remain happy and well for as long as possible. Old Age is not SO bad - yet!

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