On the bus
Apr. 8th, 2005 08:12 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
skyringI’ve done my research here, and what I need is a 172 bus to carry me out to this most distant of Monopoly’s streets. It is not a difficult wait with the towering flank of the mighty cathedral before me. For centuries this was the highest building in London and people must have come here from all over the kingdom to look up in awe and worship, gazing in rapture at Wren’s masterpiece. As I do, until the view is eclipsed by the shiny red side of a double-decker bus bearing the number 172.
For several blocks the mighty bus belongs to me and the driver, sitting a metre apart, he behind the wheel, me with my boots just over his head in the front seat of the deserted upper deck.
I hug myself with delight. This is as good as a roller coaster! I am transported down Fleet Street and the Strand, high above the traffic as the gargantuan vehicle is squeezed into impossibly small spaces on the crowded streets of the capital. I hold my breath as we miss walls, signs, other vehicles and scampering pedestrians by the thickness of a coat of red paint. However much they are paying the skinny young driver below me, it’s not enough.
We pull into a stop and a young lady climbs up to sit across the aisle as we wheel and swoop through London’s lanes. She seems not to notice as I press my nose against the windscreen, eyes everywhere as we pass architectural masterpieces and then turn left to rumble over Waterloo Bridge. There’s the London Eye, the incredibly high Ferris wheel across from Westminster, where my heart skips a beat or two as I recognise the ornate towers of the Houses of Parliament.
And then we are passing, passing, passing Waterloo Station, heading away from the central city. Somewhere ahead is Elephant and Castle, New Kent Road and my destination. I can almost hear the dice rolling, except that you can’t actually get to Old Kent Road from the GO square, not unless one of the two dice rolls away and is eaten by the dog.
Never mind. Monopoly is one of those games where rules are flexible. You want to play with a single die while you are waiting for the hound to finish with the other? No problem.
We rattle down roads marked with signs and arrows, lanes that guide us around bleak traffic circles. Thank goodness the driver knows what he’s about. I’d be lost in an instant here beyond the fringe of my guidebook’s map.
Elephant and Castle is bereft of both, New Kent Road is none of the three, and this must be Old Kent Road. I alight with delight.
Nobody else here is smiling.
For several blocks the mighty bus belongs to me and the driver, sitting a metre apart, he behind the wheel, me with my boots just over his head in the front seat of the deserted upper deck.
I hug myself with delight. This is as good as a roller coaster! I am transported down Fleet Street and the Strand, high above the traffic as the gargantuan vehicle is squeezed into impossibly small spaces on the crowded streets of the capital. I hold my breath as we miss walls, signs, other vehicles and scampering pedestrians by the thickness of a coat of red paint. However much they are paying the skinny young driver below me, it’s not enough.
We pull into a stop and a young lady climbs up to sit across the aisle as we wheel and swoop through London’s lanes. She seems not to notice as I press my nose against the windscreen, eyes everywhere as we pass architectural masterpieces and then turn left to rumble over Waterloo Bridge. There’s the London Eye, the incredibly high Ferris wheel across from Westminster, where my heart skips a beat or two as I recognise the ornate towers of the Houses of Parliament.
And then we are passing, passing, passing Waterloo Station, heading away from the central city. Somewhere ahead is Elephant and Castle, New Kent Road and my destination. I can almost hear the dice rolling, except that you can’t actually get to Old Kent Road from the GO square, not unless one of the two dice rolls away and is eaten by the dog.
Never mind. Monopoly is one of those games where rules are flexible. You want to play with a single die while you are waiting for the hound to finish with the other? No problem.
We rattle down roads marked with signs and arrows, lanes that guide us around bleak traffic circles. Thank goodness the driver knows what he’s about. I’d be lost in an instant here beyond the fringe of my guidebook’s map.
Elephant and Castle is bereft of both, New Kent Road is none of the three, and this must be Old Kent Road. I alight with delight.
Nobody else here is smiling.
