A very long shift at work yesterday, made much easier to deal with by the fact that we only really "worked" for about five hours, and during all the other hours we were on the clock we varied our activity between dozing on a bus, eating one of several meals they put on for us, and standing around chatting over coffee in a renovated 18th-century stable. On our way home from Chester (closer to Ecclestone, actually), i tried to nap but it proved difficult - my neck was sore and although the bus driver swore the heating was on, even after three hours of travel we were all still freezing. As the open roads surrounded by darkness fell away and we drew closer to Hammersmith, the lights of London were too bright and i decided it was pointless to try to attempt further sleep. The bus was silent and i became aware of tinny music nearby. The boy seated next to me was dozing and had earphones in, and although his music was not loud i could hear it quite distinctly. At first i could only hear rhythmic cymbals and other high-frequency sounds, but i soon became aware that it was Billy Joel singing "She's Always A Woman". I smiled... Billy Joel always reminds me of my very early childhood, because it was a choice of my father's that was popular with the rest of us, so it got a lot of air time on car trips and on the stereo. I lay back and watched the tall buildings roll past as we hurtled along the flyover.
After a few minutes and another unrecognisable tune, i heard something else that made me smile. It was "Don't Panic" by Coldplay. My smile was tinged by a moment of sadness as i thought of D - Coldplay always makes me think of my best friend, even though i was listening to them for years before i even met him - and i missed him. But in this hyper-connected world, nobody's really far away. So i wrote him a text message, just to let him know i was thinking of him, as my bus-mate's track ended and the distinctive "Everything's Not Lost" began.
We arrived at the Hammersmith Apollo at about 3.45am. Some people were going to organise taxis, and although we are able to be reimbursed by work, we still have to come up with the cash at the time and i do not have spare cash, so i walked to the bus stop. I was joined by a new friend Lori, and we found we were taking the same bus to Trafalgar Square. We chatted all the way and then walked to the next bus stop once we reached the Square, where he left me and went off in search of his bus to Hackney. As i waited in the cold at the busy bus stop (busy even at 4.30am, but hey, this is London on a Saturday night!), a group of six drunk and happy teenagers who were talking loudly to each other started to sing. They started with a few lines from "Oh Happy Day", and dissolved into giggles. Then one of them belted out "Well, sometimes i go out by myself, and i look across the water..." The others joined in, and they weren't the usual drunken chorus of young people, they were actually not too bad as they brightened the bus stop with their loud and fervent rendition of "Valerie" by Amy Winehouse. I couldn't help smiling, and i laughed out loud as a couple of their group even busted out trumpet solos in the chorus - "bap, ba-da bap!" I knew someone who would appreciate this magical moment, so i texted K, my best lady. As i did, they kids kept singing and worked their way through a few lines from several songs, before slowing it down with "Someone Like You" by Adele. This prompted swaying and crooning, in which they were engrossed, and did not see a man from the far end of the bus stop approach them - and toss a 50p coin at their feet and give them a thumbs-up. The minstrels broke into fits of laughter and cheers, which were joyful and contagious. So i shared that with K as well. They couldn't decide which of them should keep the 50p so they gave it to a nearby stranger, and started an impressive rendition of the uncensored version of Cee-Lo's "Forget You".
The 176 arrived and i boarded, smiling, and felt warm and happy all the way home.
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