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Walking back from the bus stop today, I was struck by the brilliant blue of the sky against the green of the grass surrounding the houses along my new route home. While it may be a bit quicker, the new route takes me by gardens and gardeners, families playing, and a delightful lack of traffic.
Routes were very much to the fore this morning. And, continuing on from yesterday’s post about public transport, today was a big day on the buses for some.
Being Wednesday meant a trip into Tyresö Centrum and, as luck would have it, I managed to catch the 824 which goes around the back streets rather than the more direct way. I prefer the 824 as it winds its way through the ‘burbs.
Climbing aboard, I managed to get a good seat with provision for my trolley, something that doesn’t always happen. The bus pulled in at Trollbäcken centrum and the driver suddenly left the bus and dashed across the road to talk to, what appeared to be, an SL instructor.
The two men made their way over to our bus and the driver showed the man something on the outside top corner of the bus. While I didn’t understand anything they were saying, it appeared that the instructor was telling the driver that he shouldn’t worry about it until he took the bus back to the garage.
The driver thanked the instructor and climbed back aboard and we continued our journey.
We picked up an old chap at one stop who looked a bit grumpy. He sat across the aisle from me unsmiling and miserable. His misery was about to be increased.
As we were about to move away from one particular stop, the driver grabbed his microphone and announced something. Obviously I have no idea what he said but, given the entire bus didn’t empty while the driver ushered us safely to the shelter of a bus stop, I sat and watched. And waited. The bus moved off.
Except, instead of going straight ahead, the bus turned left, along a road I’d never seen before. This was exciting, I thought, eagerly soaking up the new area. To me, anyway.
While I enjoyed myself, the fellow across the aisle from me started talking. Not loud enough to be heard by anyone other than me and his invisible companion but enough to indicate that he wasn’t happy with the turn the bus had taken. Eventually, he could take no more. He stood up and went to talk to the driver.
To the driver’s credit, he held his hand up to indicate the man should wait. He pulled over safely then turned to talk to the man. Obviously, again, I had no idea what they were talking about, but it did seem to be a repeat of whatever the driver had said over the bus speakers.
My assumption, at this point, was that the driver had announced a deviation because of either an accident or road works or something of that ilk and the man hadn’t bothered to listen to the announcement and just needed a private consultation. Anyway, the moany man sat back down and we continued our journey.
And what a journey. It probably added about ten minutes to the normal trip but it was so worth it. The route usually takes us by huge blocks of flats and lots of schools but not today. Actually, the route was essentially the same at the start and finish of the deviation apart from a short stretch of road but there was a lovely new long bit in the middle driving by beautiful houses perched on rocks, with woods on either side.
There was a brief moment of panic as the driver, having forgotten to stop, pulled over and let a woman with a stroller off the bus. As he tried to leave the impromptu stop, the doors refused to close, so the bus wouldn’t move. He tried all manner of things while the moany man (and another slightly happier one) started getting decidedly anxious.
The driver managed to fix the problem by doing what every technician knows will fix most things. He turned everything off then, having waited at least 30 seconds, turned it all on again. It worked and we continued on our way.
Eventually, we reached Tyresö Centrum and I went and shopped for the essentials then had a latte at Espresso House where the two baristas raved about the weather and told me how much I’d love the Swedish summer once it arrived.
Heading back home I once more had the good fortune of catching the 824.
This bus had seven women on it plus a woman driver. And me, obviously. I know the exact number because, when the driver reached the diversion point and rattled off her spiel, every one in the bus raced up to the front to engage in a long, involved though generally cheerful, chat with the driver.
Before the announcement of the diversion, everyone (but me) sat at the back of the bus but, following the announcement, they were all gathered around the front of the bus. It was as if, by sitting too far back, they’d miss something important.
Anyway, all was well as we repeated my trip from earlier though in reverse. I mean the route, rather than the bus. Driving the entire diversion in reverse would have been an extraordinary feat. And rather nerve wracking for all of us.
I related my morning adventure to Mirinda as we sat in the garden at Norrbys Trädgård over a bowl of fisksoppa. I think she enjoyed my transport tale as a healthy distraction. Or diversion.
We sat outside and round the back, somewhere we’d not sat before. It was a very pleasant lunch and, happily, gave Mirinda a break from work which was sorely needed.
