Bus drivers appear to be ganging up on me. I don't know what I've done to them, except ride on their buses, which presumably helps keep them in employment. You would have thought that they'd show me some gratitude, perhaps even a gift, a small individual pork pie or something, but far from it. The bunch that work for Metroline and wildly propel their vehicles through the streets of Muswell Hill are a particularly repellent and loathsome bunch of individuals. This morning, despite a clear signal from me at a non-request stop – which shouldn't even be necessary – the bus sailed past about 8 people and came to rest at a set of traffic lights which had just turned to red about 50 yards up the road. As I started a light jog towards the bus, the driver opened the doors for 2 people who were running towards him, from the other direction. They got on. As I got on behind them, the doors started to close, despite the fact that there were 4 more people behind me, including Jenny, who were also seizing this opportunity that had been so recently denied them. I asked the driver not to close the doors, and stuck my arm out to prevent them from closing. He didn't. He just looked at me. My arm was now wedged firmly between the doors. “Um, my arm is stuck in the doors,” I pointed out to him, helpfully. “Could you open them?”

BD: Er, why did you put your arm in the doors?
RM: Because you just drove past a queue of people who want to get on.
BD: Get your arm out of those doors.
RM: I can't. It's stuck. Open the doors.
BD: Nah.
RM: Open the f*cking doors.
BD: Oh, so we're swearing now, are we?
RM: Yes, we f*cking are, my f*cking arm is wedged in the f*cking doors, now open them.
BD: I'm not at an official bus stop. [We're still sitting at a red light, by the way]
RM: [Incredulous] Look, just open the doors, I'm getting off.
BD: No you're not.
RM: [blind fury, language not fit for reproduction on a family website]

By this time, Jenny had walked in front of the bus and was just standing there, looking at the bus driver. As the lights changed he opened the door and I got off. “You're an idiot,” shouted Jenny, in a hi-octane re-run of Sunday lunchtime, before sauntering back onto the pavement. I sustained minor bruising. We got on the next bus. At each subsequent stop people got on complaining about the previous bus which had failed to stop for them. I informed them that they'd had a lucky escape. A thoroughly depressing start to the day. Still, a note of optimism, especially for : Hey, at least it's not as cold as last week.