Another bus journey and I am treated to a show of communism in full force. I did not bother buying a ticket in advance, I simply turned up at 7am to get on one of the three different bus companies that were leaving within 30 minutes. Small thing – big mistake.
I explained that although we had not booked tickets in advance, we wanted to buy tickets for the half-empty bus that was parked a foot away.
I then admitted that as well as not booking tickets in advance we did not even have a reservation, but still we wanted to buy tickets for the half-empty bus that was parked a foot away.
Under pressure, I further confessed that I did not talk to the lady in the office about purchasing tickets, reserving tickets or indeed who may win the 3.30 at Aintree, but I would happily let the fella who was interrogating me whip me in the streets as long as he sold me tickets for the half-empty bus that was parked a foot away.
After scores of incredulous looks, much scratching of chins, several phone calls, a dog cocking his leg over Ciara's bag (I saw it off with a well aimed book) and a load of angry passengers asking what the bloody problem was, they sold us tickets.
On route to Trinidad I had great fun at a zoo causing chaos in the rabbit enclosure (it was not a big zoo) by chucking bits of banana to the bunnies and watching them go berserk.
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