marieceleste

Public Transport as a setting for oral tradition:

Yesterday on the buses and the trains people were passing on songs and stories. As the rain fell down a man behind me whistled The Umbrella Man.

Toodle - luma luma
Toodle - luma luma
Toodle - oh lay
Any umbrellas, any umbrellas
To mend today?

A young Sykh man across the way is reading Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance. A couple get on and sit next to him, they can't help but strike up a conversation - it is the man's favourite book.

As I was on my way home much later that night, the stop before mine and a group of young 'uns get on, some would-be hard looking boys and a marshmallow sweet looking girl. The bus makes its way up the hill, marshmallow girl says "He's singing". At first just a mumble, and as I walk up the bus to the door I hear the boy gain volume, belting out

Fill my heart with song
Let me sing for ever more
You are all I long for
All I worship and adore

In other words...

It was incongruos and raw and beautiful and made me smile with all my heart.

More singing and whistling and story-sharing is all I could want.

Today I didn't get out of bed, because I couldn't be bothered. Maybe I should have done some whistling instead.

I did, however, discover these photos on my phone. Better late than never.