Board a Lothian bus on North Bridge (to me it can be a 3 or a 31, it’s such a shambles) and at the last stop in George Street the driver, if he’s in informative mood at all, will announce that the next stop will be in Morrison Street at Haymarket.
That’s a hundred miles away. Bloody trams. It’s their fault and the people masterminding the shambles, the gross inconvenience of it all, are never on a bus.
If it’s true a female is at the helm at the Chambers, I wish I could share a seat with her en route to Haymarket, tell her about the grief Lothian Buses passengers are getting, and we’d still have time for the story of her life.
They’re still girning about it and they’ve got my heartfelt sympathy, those viewers who have no interest in football, yet had to wait for an eternity for the Six o’Clock News as the Wembley cup final was dragged out.
Penalties and all the palaver thereafter. Even Lineker and his team were stuck for words as the BBC milked it unmercifully. Even to a footie fan like myself, this was a gross liberty by the Beeb.
A song from John Motson would have brought welcome relief. I’m told Motty does a passable version of My Way.
Afterwords . .
. . . from Jim Kerr of Simple Minds, who are touring again: “I remember Patsy (his second ex-wife Patsy Kensit) and I had a fight. We’d been invited to dinner at Michael Winner’s. Arnold Schwarzenegger was there. I said ‘I’m not going to Michael Winner’s’. She said ‘Don’t you understand it’s my job to go there?’ And I said ‘Don’t you understand it’s my job not to go there? It’s completely naff.’ . . . we laugh about it now.”