Jboy and the bus shenanigans

So...Jboy and the Bus Shenanigans.....as some of you may remember,Jboy was sent home unexpectedly last week, in sickly disgrace. He wasn't sick...just needed a little pork extraction. Since then , he has been reluctant to get on the bus of a morning,despite it being the Right Bus, , with the Right Driver, the Right Escort and arriving at the Right Time. Why could this be, one wonders? I have a small theoryette. I think he might be anxious about getting on the bus because he just isn't sure any more whether he will be made to come home and spend an unexpected two whole days with Mother, or whether something else unexpected and therefore quite scary might happen. Whatever the reason, he has made getting on the Bus a mammoth task this week. For 3 out of the 5 days this week, M has been at home, not quite having escaped the clutches of hominess to go to work, so the Most Marvellous Right Driver has been able to scurry from his vaulted position as driver to ask poor beleagured Mike, dressed in his smartly pressed work clothes, to come and heave the Boy into place. This he has done. Today M had managed to extract himself from the house so it was all down to me. I managed, with the judicious use of the knee and an adapted hitch kick (pause while all the dancers envsage this most wondrous of thoughts) to flip him onto the bus before he could adopt the jelly legs approach and lie on the pavement. Go, me! Of course, next Monday is a Bank Holiday which leaves me wondering what the Tuesday Bus Ascent will be like!!! Talking of things vehicular, M has been making noises about changing Velma for something different. Admittedly it IS tricky getting Jboy into Velma but once in, she is a delight. I am most fond of Velma. To me ,cars are all much of a muchness and yes, I am that person who asks the colour before anything else about a car! As long as cars work, they are fine. Velma ,on the other hand, has a benign and gentle air about her. I shall be glum when the time eventually comes to say goodbye. I once felt similarly about a mini. My parents donated it to me when I was a student. She was called, originally, Minnie. She was so old, though, that as I drove to and from university, bits of her would fly off as I went. Indeed, the M5 was bejewelled for about 3 years with bits of Minnie. Eventually, she was held together with gaffer tape and that stuff people used to patch up cars, hoping that it didn't look like a badly stuffed cushion. (The MOT must have been more lenient then). At last the day came when all the special glue and car stuff and gaffer tape in the world were unable to maintain the belief that she was still roadworthy. By comparison, Velma is at the height of her beauty and strength..there is just the minor problem that it is hard to get the Boy in. As the raison d'etre of us having a 7 seater is simply to transport the Boy safely without him being able to cover the driver's face with his hands (yes, this HAS happened) or grab them firmly by the windpipe (this too), maybe I will be forced to consider the possibility of Velma being rehomed at some not too distant point while we seek another method of transporting the Boy which keeps him happy and us safe. Maybe we could simply tow a special caravan, equipped with noisy toys and fairy lights for the Boy to sit in, much like a carriage. Of course I jest........or do I????

The End

PS I was writing my journal in a cafe today and I noticed that I was using a pen called 'Le Pen' Marvy...must have been made for me!!