Autumnal visitors
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It's autumn. Until the last few days one wouldn't have known that. The nights have been drawing in for a while, but the weather has been bizarre. The start of October saw the kind of temperatures July should have delivered but didn't. This unseasonable (and perhaps un-British) bout of warm weather brought many of life's more interesting characters out to see the sun. Unfortunately, most of them seemed to congregate on my bus on the way home one night, which was already late and thus overfull. Awkwardness followed.
The first lady who stood out isn't an exclusively hot weather person. I've seen her before. She's noticeable because of how relaxed she manages to get on the bus. She'll quite happily sprawl out across one or, often, more seats, sometimes stretching her arms out behind her head and leaving them there, her fingers dangling mere inches in front of the face of the person behind her. Being British, nobody thinks to complain. Instead, they simply look indignant on the off chance she happens to turn around and notice. She doesn't. The hot weather made her even more relaxed and it was my face's turn to wear indignance.
A male character who made an impression did so purely because of his expression of permanent bemusement. As if to enhance the look, this particular individual always seemed to have his tongue hanging out. It was framed the whole time by lips in the shape of the letter O, as if forever caught mid-yawn. Coupled with a pair of inch-thick spectacles that made him look cross-eyed, he had the look and the demeanour of somebody who was trying very hard to count his own nose.
My attention was also briefly drawn to a girl who I'm convinced may be part meerkat. Her movements are always too rapid to be those of a human. It's as if she's constantly on the lookout for predators. I've seen her since and she has yet to relax. Her head still jerks from side to side so fast it's a wonder she's not wearing a neck brace. I can't help but feel that she'd perhaps be more at home in a desert in southern Africa than on a bus in Coventry. I've thus far resisted the urge to say “boo” to see if she tries to hide under a log.
As I write this, it's raining. Autumn has well and truly pulled its socks up and got on with the task of making things colder, darker and more blustery. The temperatures have dropped such that the slightest breeze feels like it has teeth. The wind is redoubling its efforts to pluck very colourful leaves from increasingly forlorn-looking trees and deposit them in the most inconvenient places its tendrils can reach. It's not always the most pleasant of seasons in which to go for a stroll. But, for the most part, it has at least thinned out the, shall we say, variety on my journey home. There are some things I don't mind being dull.