Dear Diary, the days are indeed cooler, though if one finds a sheltered sunny spot it is most pleasant; the nights exceptionally brisk.
The household is quiet. No word from Karen, which leaves Niece feeling sad and neglected. After a huge sigh I enquired as to what was wrong. There was nothing wrong! Why the sigh? I didn't ask. Silence is often the better part of valour.
This morning after a sudden urge to catch a bus and go to town, I hastened through ablutions, dressed warmly, and hurried to the bus stop. Bus trips can be rather fun affairs if the traveller is aware of her, or his, surroundings. The riders this morning were true to form.
Settling into a seat not too far behind the driver, characters began to show themselves. Across the aisle sat a young mother with a pre-school lad. He sat quiet ... for the first five minutes. Boredom set in, and Mother, after one or two half-hearted attempts at seducing him into good behaviour, gave up, allowing him to turn around on his seat and poke his tongue out at the elderly couple directly behind. At first they ignored him. He persisted, his face screwing up grotesquely as he slid his tongue in and out of his rather large mouth like a lizard catching a fly. The gentleman, dressed in a sober grey suit, with a tartan waistcoat [I heard later it was Tartan day today, so guessed had some Scottish heritage], a pale blue shirt buttoned tightly at the neck and held even closer with a striped tie in pale sky blue and a deep navy. On his lap sat a darker grey fedora, which was in remarkably excellent order considering they were the fashion for gentlemen when I was young, leaned forward as if to say something to the child. How I wished Hester were with me. Then again, I didn't. She would not have tolerated the tongue sticking out episodes from this pre-schooler! A few sharp words from her tongue may have embarrassed him so that he would have sat down and faced the front! The gentleman changed his mind, which was rather a shame. Instead he began an animated conversation with his wife, who was dressed in a style reminiscent of a much earlier period.
Dear Diary, as I sat and appraised these elderly folks I thought how neat they were in appearance. Shiny shoes, his outfit was sparkling as though it had not long come from the dry-cleaners, and her dress and matching coat in a warm woollen fabric of mid blue with a beautiful butterfly brooch on the coat lapel, and black shoes were dated, in the eyes of some, but to me, marked this couple as fastidious, but with taste.
The mother of the lad, her nose in one of those gaudy magazines full of the comings and goings of movie stars, continued to not notice her son's behaviour. Other passengers were beginning to whisper among themselves about his behaviour, when a voice from a few seats behind bade him sit around and face the front. I have to admit, Dear Diary, I thought the admonisher extremely courageous! It is not the done thing to admonish children, especially if they do not belong to your family. Was World War 111 about to break out?
Just as suddenly as he had stood up and began showing us his tongue, which Dear Diary, was unremarkable as tongues go, the boy sat down and began to whimper. The mother turned to him and told him to be quiet! He did as bid!
The rest of the journey took us through the countryside where cattle grazed on limited pastures, and where hay was strewn conveniently as a supplement.
Shopping was uneventful. I poked around a few shops, purchased a magazine to peruse in a quiet corner in the shopping mall where I ate a salad roll.
The household is quiet. No word from Karen, which leaves Niece feeling sad and neglected. After a huge sigh I enquired as to what was wrong. There was nothing wrong! Why the sigh? I didn't ask. Silence is often the better part of valour.
This morning after a sudden urge to catch a bus and go to town, I hastened through ablutions, dressed warmly, and hurried to the bus stop. Bus trips can be rather fun affairs if the traveller is aware of her, or his, surroundings. The riders this morning were true to form.
Settling into a seat not too far behind the driver, characters began to show themselves. Across the aisle sat a young mother with a pre-school lad. He sat quiet ... for the first five minutes. Boredom set in, and Mother, after one or two half-hearted attempts at seducing him into good behaviour, gave up, allowing him to turn around on his seat and poke his tongue out at the elderly couple directly behind. At first they ignored him. He persisted, his face screwing up grotesquely as he slid his tongue in and out of his rather large mouth like a lizard catching a fly. The gentleman, dressed in a sober grey suit, with a tartan waistcoat [I heard later it was Tartan day today, so guessed had some Scottish heritage], a pale blue shirt buttoned tightly at the neck and held even closer with a striped tie in pale sky blue and a deep navy. On his lap sat a darker grey fedora, which was in remarkably excellent order considering they were the fashion for gentlemen when I was young, leaned forward as if to say something to the child. How I wished Hester were with me. Then again, I didn't. She would not have tolerated the tongue sticking out episodes from this pre-schooler! A few sharp words from her tongue may have embarrassed him so that he would have sat down and faced the front! The gentleman changed his mind, which was rather a shame. Instead he began an animated conversation with his wife, who was dressed in a style reminiscent of a much earlier period.
Dear Diary, as I sat and appraised these elderly folks I thought how neat they were in appearance. Shiny shoes, his outfit was sparkling as though it had not long come from the dry-cleaners, and her dress and matching coat in a warm woollen fabric of mid blue with a beautiful butterfly brooch on the coat lapel, and black shoes were dated, in the eyes of some, but to me, marked this couple as fastidious, but with taste.
The mother of the lad, her nose in one of those gaudy magazines full of the comings and goings of movie stars, continued to not notice her son's behaviour. Other passengers were beginning to whisper among themselves about his behaviour, when a voice from a few seats behind bade him sit around and face the front. I have to admit, Dear Diary, I thought the admonisher extremely courageous! It is not the done thing to admonish children, especially if they do not belong to your family. Was World War 111 about to break out?
Just as suddenly as he had stood up and began showing us his tongue, which Dear Diary, was unremarkable as tongues go, the boy sat down and began to whimper. The mother turned to him and told him to be quiet! He did as bid!
The rest of the journey took us through the countryside where cattle grazed on limited pastures, and where hay was strewn conveniently as a supplement.
Shopping was uneventful. I poked around a few shops, purchased a magazine to peruse in a quiet corner in the shopping mall where I ate a salad roll.
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