If you discount the last 30 minutes of the day where we’ve been in a stand off with Daisy over tea, it’s been quite a nice day. Daisy and I went up to W.H. Smiths for the paper this morning, playing up to all the little old women in the shop at every opportunity.
Daisy has been wanting a bus ride for a couple of days now and not wanting to go all the way into town, and discounting bus trips to Runcorn and St Helens, we plumped for a little trip to the Cathedral.
Daisy loved the bus, one the way there she ran on and got the first set of seats she could find. This did mean we had to travel sideways but Daisy got to see everyone getting on and off, and stair at people she thought looked strange (there are a lot of strange people on buses). Ruth on the other hand got quite irate with the bus drivers.
Even though I am occasionally forced onto the bus by cancelled trains, my pass means that I don’t actually have to talk to the driver, this means I don’t have to worry about telling them where I am going, them not understanding and then overcharging me for a fare.
On the way there Ruth asked for a ticket to Myrtle Street and got the blankest look from the driver, So I whispered “Philharmonic Hall”. As this was a one off, I was taking the annoying middle ground, Myrtle Street is indeed where the stop is, and the bus driver ‘should’ know this, but most of the time they don’t so I always ask for landmarks. Of course you can’t win; on the bus back Ruth asked for a ticket to the Mystery, and got an even blanker look.
To people outside of Liverpool you might think that asking for “The Mystery” is a terribly colloquial thing, and to some extent it is, but really if you’re driving the bus all day everyday you should know where these things are.
All this passed Daisy by. We just got a running commentary on the movement of the bus “it’s stopped daddy!”, and “it’s really fast”. No doubt it’s the trips like this that will keep her talking for the next few months, Just like the once or twice during the summer we got the paddling pool out, and now every time we talk to Granmum on the phone, we tell her about it.
Yes all our bus drivers are polish, but I blame the bus companies, they must have some form of local knowledge training!