Freak le Chic

God I miss the freaks on the bus.

Sure, it's divine rolling out of bed 30 seconds (oh ok, 30 minutes) before the bell rings (oh ok, there's no bell) and jogging (ok, walking dead fast) to my new work like a crazed Cousin It, but I miss the edge.

I miss the characters. I love to people watch almost as much as I love to stuff my face with wine gums. Perhaps this explains my irrational obsession with celebrity, who knows. I just loved my seat, perched all cosy up on the back seat, watching with fascination the various down-and-outs, harrassed mothers, naughty school kids, chavs, gloriously confused elderly folk and the best ones, the one that can't be defined. The ones that march to the beat of their own drums.

Ah, how I miss my feet getting stuck to the floor with gum.

Maybe I'll buy a bus of my own and drive that around, encouraging the weird and wonderful to hop aboard.

Hey, Fragglehump went to a Sushi demo the other night - how about a mobile Sushi Bus?

Erm, I'll get back to the drawing board on that, but I like where my heads at.