Disgusted of Dublin

Mostly my morning commute is quite uneventful: the same people every day getting off at the same stops and an uncommunicative bus driver up front. The bus usually arrives on time at my stop, picks up the 10 or so regular passengers and deposits me about 50 minutes later, at the gate of the college.
However, recently we have had a very strange driver on rotation. When he is driving, he insists that we indicate that we want him to pick us up by waving our arms out for him to stop - or he has threatened to go past the 10 0r so people who have moved foward from their waiting positions in order to get on his bus. Just why he imagines we are gathered at the stop, if we did NOT wish to get on the bus I don't know.
"The number 45 stops here too, you know", he shouted at me. True, but it left just 5 minutes ago and there won't be another for 25 minutes - as he must know.
Yesterday, he outdid himself.
He was at least 10 minutes late arriving, so a larger than usual group awaited him. It was especially cold, as bad luck would have it, but someone stuck their arm out and he stopped. We set out - and suddenly another bus 'leapfrogged' past us and stopped at the next stop. Some people didn't get onto it but indicated that they wanted to get on our bus.
Our driver was furious: "What's the matter - isn't that bus good enough for you?"
So it went on for the next few stops; each time, some people chose our bus and each time, he harangued them. "You're supposed to get on the first bus".
"But he told me to get on this bus" wailed one middle-aged woman.
Finally, a more authoritative type of person said "He's only going as far as the college; we want to go into town", and our driver gave up his barracking of innocent commuters and drove on quietly. By this time we were so much later than normal, that we had to pick up crowds of noisy schoolchildren. The bus was uncomfortably packed and we finally arrived at the college gates 15 minutes late.
This morning I found myself awaiting the bus with some trepidation, but all was well. It arrived on time and the driver stayed silent.

Sadness and decision

A short time ago, petiteanglaise was blogging about the feeling of never growing up, maybe a touch of the Peter Pan syndrome, in which, even though we are mothers and adults in all sorts of ways, we don't really feel like 'proper grown-ups' should. When will it happen and need it happen at all? Why do we feel the need to feel all grown up, anyway?
Many of her commenters mentioned the death of their parents as being a catalyst that did, or didn't, make them feel they had achieved that milestone. I thought that the sudden death of a young contemporary had made me acknowledge the feelings of mortality which I had managed to ignore up to that point and that this had forced me to, somewhat belatedly, grow up. Or at least, feel more grown-up than before.
A post by thatgirl has reminded me of that unhappy time. My friend had leukaemia and died within 3 weeks of being diagnosed, too soon for his wife, family and friends to become reconciled to his imminent demise. It was a time of trauma, which forced all of us to question our fears of death and our assumptions of life.
Only in retrospect do I fully realise that I adopted new strategies for living, which have affected my life ever since. Not all of them were wise; the philosophy of living for the moment, or 'in the moment', can obviously have some unintended consequences, that being almost a sine qua non of the theory. Thirty years later, one could feel very differently about the result. On the whole, I'm not unhappy over the decisions I took, not altogether consciously at the time but I can acknowledge the dangers of radical changes made in the light of one event.
Maybe that is what 'growing up' means.

Insomnia

Since Sunday, I've only had about 8 hours sleep, so I am staggering about, feeling very sorry for myself and livid that my last weekoff is trickling away without my being able to work or play properly.
Saw 'Pavee Lackeen', about a traveller girl, really tragic and depressing. Lost another friend (younger than me...) on the 6th January, which was apparently 'Women's Christmas' --eh?--, never heard of that before, but it made a nice story to tell at the well-attended funeral in Mt Merrion.
Having lots of problems with No. 1 (and only) son, which makes boring reading and is even worse to endure.
The more coffee I drink, the worse the insomnia, but I need to keep on going to deal with dentist appointments, visits to galleries, meetings and the supremely boring household chores, which need to be cleared, like the blocked drains, before I can concentrate on the New Term and the New Modules and all the evil little surprises that may be waiting in the wings......yaaaaaaaauuuugh, Hoolah, Hoolah, Hoo....I'm off to bed, ranting and raving unintelligibly......no good to man nor beast.
All this on No Alcohol at all; maybe that's the problem.

Blow those cobwebs away

Lovely, cold but bright, strong breezy day, unlike what my poor friends in Northern California are suffering. I have yet to hear from them, but feel smugly glad that I don't attempt winter visits to California, as Katherine has. Doesn't she remember what it was like ?- but she will probably remain in LA unless she has already ventured north. Well Happy New Year to all of them, anyway, poor creatures. Actually, I don't know if I could force myself to enter USA at present, or in the lifetime of the present administration, so ideas of a visit are moot.
I'm alone in the house, both kids away at their revels, or the recovery therefrom - and still I feel the familiar thought: 2 down, one to go, her birthday being the third celebration of the season, bigger than ever this year because of it being the 21st, more than ever a worry.
I enjoy the last of the mulled wine for breakfast and relish the peace.