Help! Where are we? Who knows? Not the bus driver

It’s all go here in London, believe me.

This evening I had an experience which has never come my way in nearly 47 years of living here.

My bus driver got lost.

I had just left my partne, who is currently on an urgent important international mission, on Oxford Street. She is looking for a dress for a wedding in Italy which is taking place in May.

She has already spent over two days on this task, drawing a blank at Harrods and Harvey Nichols. Why the urgency? Because although the wedding is months away, the sales will not last forever. Perfect sense.

At South Kensington I got on one of my usual buses, the 345. For some reason it didn’t seem to be going in the right direction, which the lady next to me pointed out. It seems there had been a fire at the hospital we nornmally go near, so it was being diverted.

But diverted where? We eventually reached Fulham Broadway, which is quite a way from where I live.

“Does he know where he’s going?” asked the lady.

Eventually a man went up to the front of the bus.

“Are you lost, mate?”

“Mutter.” This was an assent I imagine, since the man was literally going round in circles.

“Don’t worry. I’ll tell you where to go.”

And so he did, to a small burst of applause from the lady and me.

Marvellous!