Almost on topic...
We had been going out, to use the parlance of our times, for a couple of months and our young love was sure to blossom into something rare and beautiful.

We walked hand in hand back to the bus station, as we had each Sunday evening for the past few weeks. Her old man was finally willing to allow her to stay for the weekend after my mum had lied that she would be safely tucked up in the spare room; armed guard on the door and land mines making impossible any desires I may have to sneak in there in the dead of night.

"Put her down mate, or I'm going to leave without her" the bus driver 'joked' before 'playfully' closing the door and starting the engine.

He finally relented after some jovial door banging, and she climbed the steps and took her seat at the back of the bus, allowing us a last wave and a happy smile before she was whisked away in a cloud of diesel smoke.

I swivelled merrily on my heel, feeling like the king of the world and strode purposefully and directly into the side of the bus shelter, bringing me swiftly back down to earth with a disgruntled bump and a sore forehead.

Fortunately she was already too far away to be alerted by the jeers of the nearby chavs, but my young ego was sufficiently bruised that I only mentioned it to her after we split up a few years later.
( Moey, Tue 2 Sep 2008, 13:38, Reply)