The bus really is a wonderful place to make friends (as opposed to in London where the bus is a wonderful place to meet serial killers) although frankly I’m lucky that the person I got chatting to today feels halfway friendly towards me.
I’ve seen V around the village a couple of times, using a white stick and with a tubby Labrador trotting around her, usually off its lead, and this morning she walked past the bus stop and stood chatting to the local gossip, R, before standing by the side of the road anxiously listening to the traffic.
When I was about 12 years old someone I knew was killed on that exact spot of road, and as the traffic started haring past her the dog seemed to be dithering, and V looked nervous, so when there was a break in traffic I leapt forward and asked if I could help.
“Yes please,” she said, so I started to guide her across the street. We were halfway across when she said: “Er… I’m waiting for the bus actually.”
Cringeing and apologising copiously I led her back over the road and, thank God, the bus turned up seconds later. She got on first, and I sat on the opposite side of the aisle to her. We had a lovely conversation about the dog (V’s training her up) about her daughter and her late husband. We found out we lived quite near each other, and I waffled on about London being ‘molto grande’. I even managed to do without my usual habit of gesticulating when I can't think of the right word and she seemd to understand most of what I was saying.
Eventually she asked “are we getting near Piacenza yet? Can you let me know when we get to blah street?”
Sadly I had no idea where blah street was, so I decided to just tell her roughly where we were, so she had an idea of when to get off. “Well, we’re in Via Genova now…” I said.
As we pulled up to the stop, she gathered her things together as if preparing to get off the bus and said:
“Well it’s been lovely chatting to you…”
“Well it’s been lovely chatting to you…”
“You too – drop in for a coffee sometime.”
“Love to!” The door of the bus opened and I waited for her to get off, but she didn’t. The door closed again, and V started humming quietly to herself while I tried to think of a way to keep the conversation going. Until slowly I realised that she hadn’t intended to get off at that stop at all – she thought I had.
I spent the next 10 minutes being as quiet and still as possible, avoiding the driver’s amused eye, and trying not to yell out when she dumped her shopping bag on my lap.
Realised I am not going to receive an award for services to the blind anytime soon.
The last time I was on a bus in Italy was at the end of June in Rome. It was particularly memorable as there was a tramp furiously masturbating on the seat behind my mother.
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Scott x
So you made a friend, too? He obviously liked you.
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