"I. S. Margolis" <[log in to unmask]> wrote:

> Did Deri ever get home?
>
> S.
>
I think you mean "released". :-)

> "cute story, deri!
>
> btw; what happened to you that time that busdriver took you
> 'back' to the institition? how did you get home?
> mag
>
>
This all happened back in my Student days whilst doing my degree
at Newcastle University.

It was a scorching hot day and I had been playing football
(Soccer) with a group of friends all afternoon. Well, running
round, tripping over the ball if it ever came near me, could
possibly be a fairer description!

Hardly what you'd call organised recreation, we had split into
two teams, "skins" v. "shirts". Being on the "skins" team I had
the benefit of a nice cooling breeze, but still managed to work
up quite a "lather".

Around 4pm we were about breaking up, and everyone was going to
walk across the "Town Moor" to a pub on the other side. Well I
didn't fancy this 2 mile walk at all, and I spotted a bus coming
down the road at the edge of the playing fields. So I high tailed
it over the road to stand at the bus stop, pausing just to grab
up my shirt.

It would be appropriate now to describe the scene as it must have
appeared to the bus driver. He must have seen me running across
the busy road semi-naked carrying my shirt, hair plastered to my
head with sweat, so puffed out, unable to talk.

It was at this moment I made my "big" mistake. I thought I had
time to put my shirt back on before the bus pulled up, I was
wrong. The bus pulled up, the doors opened, and I was silhouetted
with my shirt stuck fast over my head, arms in the air, unable to
bring them down because the shirt would not slide down over my
sweaty body. This is a tricky situation, I need my hands to hold
the rail to get on the bus, they're stuck in the air (as though
surrendering), I need my eyes to see the step up into the bus,
they're covered by the shirt stuck over my head.

What would you do in that situation? I applied the laws of
physics, specifically bringing my arms smartly down to the sides
of my body in the sort of crisp action any red-beret marine would
be proud of. In accordance with the laws of levers and
fulcrums the shirt began to move, but (and this is quite a big
"but"), I had overlooked another of those useful Newtonian laws:-

"To every action there is an equal and opposite reaction."

In this case it resulted in the top four buttons parting company
with the shirt at quite a respectable velocity, pop-pop-pop-pop.
At least one hit him 'cos I saw him wince.

I am sure you can imagine the embarassment of the situation, but
I must admit I didn't expect his next question.

   "Are you from Saint Nick's?"

Now I had never heard of St. Nick's so I must have put on a
pretty vacant expression, and my answer came out as a rather
unintelligible grunt because I was so out of breath by running
for the bus. However this seemed to satisfy him because he shut
the door and started the bus moving.

My ignorance about "St Nick's" was very short lived since 150
yards further up the road the driver turned left into a private
drive and I happened to notice a sign "St. Nicholas Home for the
Mentally Insane". He stopped the bus outside the front door and
started honking the horn. After a while a lady and a man (yes he
was in a white uniform) came out, the driver opened the door and
enquired if they had "lost" anyone, jerking his thumb at me.

The two of them convinced him that noone was "lost", and he
pulled out of the exit back onto the main road. I could tell he
wasn't absolutely convinced from the number of times he kept
looking at me in the rear-view mirror, and I guess I was just
lucky that there were no other Mental Institutions near his
route!

If you have managed to stay with me till the end of this (over!)
long post, you will see that the driver was not being "nasty" or
unfeeling, I'm sure he felt he was just trying to do a valuable
service for society (and there are many who probably agree with
him!!!).

Cheers,

--
Deri James