Bossy wives, funny bus drivers and transporting and transmuting

I had forgotten the chattiness of the Irish. Not the well bred iciness of the middle class, whose mark of good manners is studiously ignoring you under all circumstances. If they live beside you, they will pride themselves on 25 years of avoiding conversations across well manicured garden hedges. No, I’m talking about the chattiness of those neither rich or middle class. 

Here I am, heading by bus from Ballymoney to Belfast. Nothing exceptional happens all the way from Ballymoney to Ballymena. The usual flocks of the over 65’s taking advantage of free transport they are entitled to. It does the heart good to see groups of elderly folk travelling up to Belfast for the day. I love the way they dress up for such excursions. On cheap airlines nowadays, people dress down. It might be the stewardesses on such flights who set the tone. They are dressed like supermarket assistants and every everyone else feels duty-bound to follow suit. In the olden days, beautifully manicured stewardesses with pristine make up and hair floated up and down the central catwalk of the plane.  People aspired to that template with varying degrees of success. But cheap airlines show their disdain for customers so obviously; making you stand in freezing corridors like cattle, squeezing you into tiny battery hen containers. Dressing up for such treatment defeats even the fashion conscious among us. 

Regarding public transport, the wealthy have cars to insulate themselves from others. Occasionally, they will commute by train but use books, iPads and mobiles to isolate themselves from their fellow travellers. Buses however are avoided and so have a different clientele entirely. As a result social interactions on buses in Ireland are startlingly different. 

The new driver who takes over the bus in Ballymena is called Marty and is a really talkative man. He greets almost all who enter the bus by name and has a friendly insult for everyone. He is small and wiry and has a great line of chat. 

“Hi Ruth, are you heading up to Antrim hospital to see your mum?”

 He asked the middle-aged woman who is missing an arm. She smiles at him and nods. He beams back and asks, 

“How is she doing, love?” As he hands her a ticket.

She answers in a strong Ballymena accent,

“She’s not so bad, Marty”.  

He responds challengingly,

“You’re up visiting that hospital so often, I reckon you’ve a bloke up there!”

Ruth blushes and giggles, delighted by his jesting. The whole company on the bus begins to perk up and some smile. This boy is a live wire! He tells us all,

“My wife is 5 inches taller than me and is terribly bossy. I'm a chatty fella on the bus but a silent wee man at home! My God! She wears the trousers in our home!”

There are titters of laughter now from the front seats. Smiles are shared by all on the bus. A rather chubby redheaded lad in his 30’s runs late to catch the bus and is scolded by Marty. 

We’re all here waiting on you. Just take your time why don't you? We have nothing better to do than sit like wallflowers for you to come along! "

He makes the lad so nervous, he drops his coins into his rucksack and they disappear into its cluttered depths. He pulls out a tenner in desperation and offers that. Marty scolds him again,

 “Now, I'll have to give you my money out of my own pocket for change.”

He hands over fiver. 

“That's what the wife gave me today for a coffee and a bun!” 

The lad grabs it and runs to his seat at the back. An elderly man called Davy, shouts out,

 “You're a wild man, Marty, I’d hate to see you with drink taken!”

 Marty responds,

 “No, I don't touch the demon drink, sure look how mad I am without it!”

Davy mentions the bad thunder and lightning of the previous night and Marty says he is terrified of lightning he points out his garden was lit up last night with flashes.

 “I was scared rigid. You’ll know if there is lightning today because you’ll find me hiding under this bus seat!” 

Davy says, 

“I loved watching it from my chair, through the window last night!”

Marty snorts,

“Sure you're an old guy, almost dead already. You have nothing to fear from anything. I’ve got my whole life to think of!”

At this, the whole bus is laughing. Davy responds in puzzled tones,

 “How did you get that woman of yours to marry you? 

Marty explains, 

“Sure wasn't she the luckiest lass in the world to get me. I am a fine fellow. If I could've married myself, I would have! I got down on my knees and asked,

“Would you like to marry me? I'm the best man in the world. When she said, “yes” I asked if she could lend me a fiver towards my rent, now that we were practically family.”

Davy laughs and says,

“Sure you're raking it in, with all the money you boys on the bus get. Marty laughs and asks Davy,

“If I find £20 in one coat pocket and £40 in the other what would I have?”   

Davy shouts out, “£60” to which Martin replies, 

“No, I'd have someone else's coat on!”

The banter continues the whole way and he lightens the atmosphere. He is careful to greet each new passenger and say a teasing goodbye to those who disembark. He tells the thin tall teenage girl that she is on the late shift today and despite her shyness you can see she appreciates that he's noticed. By the time we reach Belfast others are telling their jokes, sharing tales and teasing him back. It's another world and if you couldn't catch the strong accents you would miss the good humour that cushions all the jibes. It all feels so familiar, this quick witted repartee. But it is Marty's ability to take a somber silent bus load and bring them back to good-humoured humanity that pleases me the most. His good nature is contagious and as we disembark I want to shake his hand in appreciation. There is definitely something special about having a radiant personality.  Misery is so contagious but thankfully so is happiness.

"A gentle word, a kind look, a good-natured smile can work wonders and accomplish miracles." 

quote by William Hazlitt (10 April 1778 – 18 September 1830) English writer and philosopher

Desperation, perspiration, information and inspiration,

Exams are tortuous.  We have all been there, paper before us, the clock ticking.  The terrifying sound of others asking for more writing paper, while you stare mesmerised by your single blank sheet. There are the rare few of us who, from this dire situation, conjure up magic.  To those that pull that off, I salute you.  For example, the high school student who when asked to write a concise expressive essay on stubbornness, put pen to paper and wrote,
"No!"
But there are the even more creative that aught to be remembered.  This student was really putting his back into solving this equation and then at a certain point found an expressive way to sum up his despair.  Just love that little man hanging on the last integral sign.

Of course, the artists among us have a real opportunity to vent their frustration eloquently.  After all, they have the three basic necessities, a paper, pencil and hours of time!  Here's one who obviously decided this subject was not for him.

Then, there are those who use quirky dry humour to answer what defeats them otherwise, as Peter so brilliantly accomplished here.

I just have to admire their tenacity and application, instead of putting their head down in despair, from somewhere within a revolt occurred.  In the scariest of all places they found an answer.  Mind you, I cannot believe this student actually got an A+ for the following response!

Just occasionally, in this education system that is so questionable, sausage factory filling and exam driven, a question can elicit a response that makes the whole dire business worthwhile.  Here, was a student determined to fight back!

Finally, exams are a metaphor for life in many ways.  Our response to them both usually requires the same attitude.  This last one summarises it all nicely.  So, if you too are facing tests remember this useful guidance.

Doing a demented version of Morris dancing

Today I passed an unusual sight.  There was an English tourist stamping his feet as if doing a demented version of Morris dancing on a sea path.  As I grew closer I realised that there was a huge lizard trapped on the path between him and his young wife.  By jumping up and down he was herding the lizard towards his terrified wife who was cringing fearfully and shouting at him simultaneously.  I know it was cruel but it was also funny.  Eventually, the lizard, the piggy in the middle, grew tired of this game and raced up a nearby wall to safety.  I passed the young man bent double and weeping with laughter, while his irate partner beat him over the head with her handbag.  I have no idea why this whole event had me smiling all the way home but it did.

Perhaps our sense of humour is created at a young age.  One April the 1^st my mother shouted up to my sleeping father that the next-door neighbour had fallen down a hole in the garden.  My dad raced out the front door, to the rescue, wearing only a hastily thrown on shirt and nothing else.  We laughed happily at this for the rest of the day.  I rest my case; humour is cultivated and in my case has always been watered with a bit of cruelty.