The Bus Run

After a absence of a few weeks I decided to take a run on the weekly bus into Darlington (the promise of another fine day tempting plenty more such that it was standing room only by the time we reached town) where after the usual routine - shopping done, bank visited, tea and scones consumed - I was killing time in the library when time retaliated and slipped past unnoticed until I glanced at my watch to see 13:08 staring back at me, the implication -  the last bus leaves in two minutes from a stop a five minute walk away – prompted a hasty exit from the building, followed by a hurried jog-trot to the corner of the street, then an undignified gimping gallop up the next road towards the shelter from which the bus was setting off; happily the driver, who knows all his regulars, pulled over and opened the doors for me to climb aboard, somewhat out of puff from a different sort of bus run than that I had expected.