Bad Day, Good Day
I woke up to the sound of the rain and lightening flashing off the ceiling. The walls of the bedroom are deep red so they don’t reflect the light. It’s good to have some real weather for a change, instead of grey English skies and soft drizzle.
So I got up and walked to the bus stop, feeling pretty down, all told. I was tired and getting wet on my way to a bus shelter to join the other commuters for the ride into London. Then someone I know quickly shuffles under the shelter. I don’t know him as such, we mostly nod good morning and that’s about it. But he looked stressed out this morning. “My car,” he said, “I’ve had to leave it in the road.” He pointed behind him and I craned my neck out of the shelter to get a better view. Water poured on the back of my neck and ran down my back.
His car was literally in the middle of the road, blinking wet clouds in the spray around his hazard lights as the rain pelted an abandoned Volkswagon. The bus appeared round the corner. If I were to miss it, it would be an hour until the next one. “You can’t leave it there,” I said.
“I know,” said he.
“OK,” said me.
I turned to another passenger I don’t really know, a lady called Sarah or Sylvia I think. “Can you watch my bag and try to hold the bus,” I said, “Don’t worry if you can’t, just get on if he goes,” and we set off running down the road, cars swerving around us in the dark and rain. I worried that my jacket was dark green and drivers wouldn’t see me running down the road. It amazes me how people don’t turn on their headlights in the morning or when it rains. In France it’s the law.
“I’ll push!” I yelled at him over the traffic and rain. He nodded and opened the door, pushing and steering at the the same time, his suit was getting drenched. He wasn’t wearing a coat even though it had been torrential all morning.
A few other people from the bus stop joined in and we moved the car off the road and parked it on a side street and ran back.
The bus was still there. They waited for us. Sarah/Sylvia was standing in the shelter holding my bag and umbrella, waiting for me before she gots on the bus. The car was parked and the road was safe again. Wet suited driver man was going to work as planned. I took my stuff and got on the bus, drenched, and the driver said “community service today” at me, I smirked and said thanks and squelched past him. Thirty other passengers are looking up smiling at us.
Wet suited driver man sat opposite me and said “thanks” and I said “no problem”. The world is good. I even remembered there was a spare pair of shoes under my desk of work. Of course, the pair under my desk are the waterproof ones, but that’s life and life’s OK.
Footnotes:
I don’t mind them being red. I am told it looks OK. I am colourblind, or to be more accurate, have Colour Perception Disorder. This means that red and green look the same to me and all the hues in between are just baffling. Grey and pink look the same, I can’t tell the difference between blue and purple because I can’t see the red element in it. I can’t read green writing on a red background, I can’t tell if a channel is on or off on a mixing desk, I can’t see a cricket ball in the grass.
I can see in the dark really well which is part of being colourblind. I can also read upside down as fast as I can the right way up. I don’t think this is to do with colourblindness, it’s just wierd. In fact, if you put a book on a record turntable and set it going, I can read that pretty good while it spins round.