Living life in the sloooowww lane

As I was walking along a leafy autumn street today I saw something unusual. I had given up trying to pass the one mile an hour grey haired man in front of me. He reached a drive way and stopped, a car was there waiting to pull out. Conforming to the old peoples conform act the elderly woman driver waved the man past. How kind. As he was half past, the car went forward, knocking into the surprised man. The old man demonstrated with a raised fist. The driver put her hand over her month as to say “oops”. Rule number one I learned that day. Don’t trust old people and clutches.

When you say ‘Bournemouth’ people say “Isn’t that where the old people live?”. When you say Southbourne, people should say “Isn’t that where the old people die?”. Twenty five percent of all people who live in Southbourne are over seventy five. The problem is we all know old people lie about their age. Twenty five percent have a limiting long term illness.

The problem is their slow way of life becomes your, slow way of life. I don’t know why they bother making cars with more than three gears here. You are lucky if you get out of second. It most towns if thirty miles an hour is the speed limit, they will drive at thirty five. Here if its thirty blood rushes to their heads if they go above twenty. But its just not driving behind someone that makes your life slow. Try stopping at traffic lights. Most people are down the road by the time the green man starts flashing. But in Bournemouth when the green man flashes that is what catches their attention, creeping across the road with a dark red shopping trolley in tow. If only my conscious allowed me to beep.

Driving will only make you stressed. Take to the bus instead. For some reason old people have to make it to the bus stop fully twenty minutes before the bus is due. As a result they form gangs, spreading small talk amongst their fellow peers. And then they ask their fellow bus goers “Has the bus come yet?”. If my conscious did not get the better of me I would say “Look blue hair, why, would we all be standing here if the bus had already come?”. Crisis over. The bus comes. Have you ever tried getting onto a bus with ten pensioners? Even though they have spent the last twenty minutes waiting after arriving ridiculously early, they leave it right to the time they get on the bus to find their bus pass. Even better, old people it seems, always have to pay the correct fair. It’s like a challenge to them. After all, they have to make sure the pennies they found on the floor don’t go to waste. Ten minutes after the bus has arrived the bus goes. Of course the bus driver cannot actually go until the last person sits down. If they accelerate before the person has been delivered into their seat, they will go flying.

Sit down and relax finally. Well actually no. Auntie Betty has decided to sit next to me. Her leg is uncomfortably positioned right next to mine. Her shopping bag is on my foot. The smell of old people is quite unique. They use perfumes that are not sold in the shops, simply unwanted Christmas presents that have been passed on. Their hair has been styled by Doris, the local hairdresser. Their clothes are normally navy blue or beige. And if like me you like over hearing conversations on buses, don’t bother. They talk absolute nonsense. Who cares if the number 22 route has changed from five years ago? Who cares if the butcher down the road is on holiday? Who cares if Mavis from Tuesday night Bingo has just had a hip replacement?

I dread the number twenty two route from Southbourne to Bournemouth. I can take most of the things that come with the route. But the main one is the ‘standing up for the old peoples rule’. Now this has never sat right with me, literally. When do old people become officially old? What happens if you offer your seat to someone and they become offended because they think you think they are old? And what happens if the whole bus like the twenty two is full of old people? Would I ever get seat? Even when I do get a seat I normally get blocked in by some shopping bag holding old lady who takes an eternity to get up when I need to get off for my stop. It has got to the point where I get up a stop early, just to avoid missing my stop.

A chance to relax, go to the shop. “Ahh yes you see, I have treated myself with the hobb nobbs”…….. “It is cold today isn’t it?”. There in front of me is an old person, trying their best to have a conversation with the poor shop keeper. They are completely oblivious to the large queue forming behind them. Then after the conversation to send anyone to sleep, the change comes out. Paying for your shopping in one and two pence’s is not illegal. Just highly annoying.

Be nice to your elders! You will be old one day. Now I don't believe you wanted to do that. Young man.