Since we’ve moved down here, I’ve been having ongoing issues with public transport. There’s a strong likelihood that I’ve been spoilt by living in Sheffield and using the tram system but it is just such a pain getting into work in the morning. It actually takes Chris less time to get round into Wales when he’s working offsite than it takes me to get into work in the morning. Generally, I’m coping and have a routine that works. However.
I catch a free bus up from the station. I’m not complaining about it because, hey, it’s free. But sometimes it’s not the most reliable service. Last week they were having some maintenance issues and had to take some of the extra buses out of service in the morning. On Wednesday I was a little slower out of the station than usual and came out to find it already leaving, even though it still wasn’t 8 o’clock. There’s still the possibility that it’s the one before running late and so hang on and text my friend to see if she’s on the bus and knows anything. I receive confirmation that the bus left early because it was full. So I walk round to the main bus stop to fork out for a normal bus up to work because otherwise I would have had a 40 minute wait for the next one.
There are two buses which I know from prior experience go from where I work to the station. I therefore assumed that both of them also go from the station to where I work. It turns out that this is not the case. Not that the bus driver told me that when I asked for the specific stop. I mean, wouldn’t you think that someone wouldn’t want to turn a 20 minute journey into an hour long one? And of course, not knowing Bristol very well, I didn’t twig until it was too late to get off and work (because I didn’t know how to get from where I was to where I needed to go and the street map is in the car). I know that a lot of this is unfortunate and not really anyone’s fault (except mine for trying to make public transport work for me instead of adding to the vast hordes of cars jamming the city centre) but still.
Miserable bastard, he could at least have told me I’d be better off on the number 9.