I realise that I am stepping onto vodkabird territory here, but I just have to rant about this.
I came out of Somerfield and spotted a magical 417 coming round the corner, heading to the bus stop. (The 417 is magical because it takes me to my door, particularly handy when I have just emerged from Somerfield! It's also magical when it turns up.) I knew that if I ran I would catch it, even with my lugubrious running, even having come out of Somerfield.
I ran, and to my delight, when I got to the door of the bus, there was somebody stood paying the driver. I heaved my carcass onto the bus, only to feel a sharp and heavy thump on my left waist (the bit where my circumference lessens - I reckon it's good for another five years). I went half sprawling onto the floor, unable to put out my left arm which was carrying a Somerfield bag, unable to put out my right arm because it was fishing in my shoulder bag for my Travelcard. Winded and angry, but not expressing my rage, I spoke to the bus driver.
"What was that about?" He muttered something. I continued, saying that he had shut the door on me and knocked me over. He said he hadn't seen me, I hadn't been at the bus stop when he got there, I'd been running for the bus. I pointed out that I was standing on the platform when he shut the door. He probably couldn't see me because somebody was standing between him and me.
He shrugged and pulled one of those faces, as if it was of marginal concern to him. I flounced to my seat. As I did I said, "An apology would be nice!" This cow sat in the front seat turned round and stared at me, then glared at me. I scowled at her. Didn't she notice? I fell over. I was hit by a closing bus door. That was three hours ago. I can still feel it.
I know I should have got his number, but, you know, I had almost fallen to the ground, hit by a closing bus door. I was shocked. You get shock when assaulted by a bus.
