10 - Viva Lewes

Photo by daisy Martin
‘Shocked, so I am,’ I said. ‘I’m terribly sorry,’
Grange Girl replied. It’s not often I get Grangey on
the back foot so I pressed my advantage. ‘Shocked
to the core.’ ‘All right, don’t overdo it.’
‘But fancy you getting the 28 for the first time
without consulting me.’ ‘I don’t know what I was
thinking. You are the Bus Oracle.’ ‘Can I presume
that your failure to properly plan your expedition
resulted in disaster?’ Grangey stared at her toes.
‘It did.’ She looked so mortified that I softened.
‘Tell me all about it.’ Turns out Grangey had made
the basic schoolboy error of thinking that the bus
station was the correct place to catch the bus. ‘Oh
Grangey!’‘I know. How could I be so stupid?’
Luckily a helpful bus driver pulled up outside
Waitrose, saw Grangey loitering confusedly on the
wrong side of the street, and gently signalled to her
by yelling, ‘Oi luv!’
Grangey darted across The Most Tricky Road To
Cross In Lewes and, weeping with humiliation and
relief, managed to buy her city saver. There was no
further incident.
‘Well Grangey, if only you’d come to me,’ I said,
fixing her with a Paddington hard stare. ‘I could
have told you that the bus station is owned by a
development company who are struggling to get
planning permission to turn it into shops. That
they wouldn’t let Brighton & Hove buses use the
station for anything less than twenty grand and
buses had to drop people off precari-
W W W. V i Va L E W E s . C o M
beth miller
And if you get it wrong you’ll get it right next time
c o l u m n
ously on East Street, The Narrowest Pavement
In Lewes, but that they have seen reason and the
bus now stops there en route to Tunbridge Wells,
though not on its westbound journey.’
Grangey sighed. ‘Yes, but I probably wouldn’t have
remembered any of that. In fact I’ve already forgotten
the beginning.’
‘All you have to remember is: next bus trip, speak to
me. Promise?’
Grangey crossed her heart and hoped to die, and
there we left it. Her to go home and brood over her
rare error; me to hop smugly on the next 28 that
juddered to a halt outside the British Heart Foundation.
Twenty minutes later I was in a city where a
banner announced a Festival of Shopping. I joined
in with a whoop.
Later I easily caught a 29 from outside M&S, and
drifted off into a self-satisfied reverie about how
much I knew about public transport. I awoke with
a start to find that we were going the wrong way,
heading through the Cuilfail Tunnel at great speed,
rather than towards the prison. Apparently, explained
the driver when I shouted at him, this was
to avoid some silly roadworks. I would have enjoyed
the irony of having to get out at the bus station
had I not been so cross. I trudged home all the way
across town, avoiding passing Grange Girl’s door.
I’m sure she wouldn’t have gloated,
but I couldn’t take the risk.
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