Richmond – Return
Just a brief trip into Richmond for a little Saturday evening culture and entertainment. You’d think two simple bus trips wouldn’t give much scope for something to write about. Sadly you’d be wrong. What’s worse is that it’s depressingly familiar and predictable.
The journey in left me with that warm fuzzy feeling you get from a familiar connection with another human being and rather softened me up for what came later. When the bus pulled up and I got on I didn’t even have to tell the driver where I was getting off. He recognised me, greeted me and knew already. This is getting to be a habit. I’m not at all sure that this is a good thing.
Decanting in Richmond I hit the start of the post Rugby World Cup final crowds. I took the easy option and fought my way off the beaten track and took the quieter back streets. At least this is the last match.
Heading back I went to catch my return bus. Obviously services are less frequent late at night which I feared meant a long wait in the chilly night air as I just missed a bus, but apparently my luck was in as another followed a couple of minutes behind. Predictably my luck didn’t last long. The ramp on the bus, when it arrived, stubbornly refused to even stick it’s nose out from the nice warm cave it usually lives in. Nothing the driver could do persuaded it to stir even one iota, so I feared I was stuck for a while longer. However, the roller coaster that Dame Fortune was making me ride this evening took another swing upwards as unbelievably another bus pulled up behind, one that I was easily able to get on.
And so we followed the ‘broken’ bus all the way, having to wait at each stop so it could pull away. I reached home at almost exactly the time I would have without the ramp failing.
Of course that doesn’t mean TfL won’t receive a complaint. I wonder what the failure rate of ramps actually is. Perhaps an FoI request is also in order.