Diary entries for the bus
MONDAY
This morning I went to work on the bus;
It really was a terrible fuss.
The driver wanted exact cash
– And I had exhausted my stash –
So to the cashpoint I had to go
And then the newsagents; yet though
I had the fare, I didn’t know
It went up just yesterday.
A full five pounds I had to pay.
TUESDAY
This morning I went to work on the bus;
It really was a terrible fuss.
I was running things a little tight
And fate grinned down upon my plight.
Clogged up the roads into one jammed up mess
– after one car moved one speed, the one in front less –
So caught in the gridlock I have to confess
I pressed the alarm bell. Ran off in a state!
Yet of course I was still plenty too late.
WEDNESDAY
This morning I went to work on the bus;
It really was a terrible fuss.
A drunk came and sat on the seat next to me
And put his hand down roughly upon my knee
He leaned in close and looked deep in my eyes
Hiccuped once! twice! and then cries
“What I got’a shaay will shurely surprishe…”
Yet he then fell quite soundly to sleep!
And so for the journey not a sound dared I peep.
THURSDAY
This morning I went to work on the bus;
It really was a terrible fuss.
We waited for an eternity…
…and of course came not one bus but three.
I stood in the gangway for hours on end
– Gripping yet slipping around every bend –
Some guys umbrella “becoming my friend”.
Which after the bus stopped rather too fast
Left me feeling somewhat trespassed.
FRIDAY
This morning I went to work on my bike;
It was lovely.
Dan Lawson.
Notes: This was inspired by recently reading A. A. Milne, and everyone who has written in his style.
Thoughts about thinking 