BILAMBIL CALLING : THOUGHTS FROM DAVE ' THE BLOKE' OVENDEN

THOUGHTS WHILE ON A BUS

Thoughts while on a bus…

From the city to Rathgar, on the bus it’s not to far, and the driver he is frowning as I fumble for the fare…

He sits there looking crappy, and I know that he’s not happy, so I gives to him some coins, and with my ticket catch his glare…

That bus begins to lurch, as I stumble to my perch, on the top deck for a rockin’ reeling ride…

And I’m looking for that steeple, as I gaze down on the people, walking there along the windy street outside…

I sway upon that hard seat, as I rest my weary sore feet, it feels good to let my buttocks take the load…

Down there the traffic screaming, up here the bus is leaning, as we roll along that narrow winding road…

I alight this is my stop, then hit the bottle shop, walk by the gray stone church, with steeple standing tall…

At home I have a drink, roll a smoke, sit back and think, while the driver weaves that bus through peek time crawl…

Back at no 41, and I’m sitting in the yard soaking up the afternoon sun, where the little white Daisy like flowers are  splashed about in the green grass, and mister Squirrel, is  up there high in that old Oak tree somewhere; so as I’m sipping on me wine an dragging at me durrie, my mind gets blown with a headphone blast, of The Lords of the Empty Ballroom…       

It’s a Tuesday today, I watch a mad crazy game on TV, they call it Hurling, each team running around wielding a stick, and a little white ball goin every which way…I take in a DVD, then we three, that’s Bard, Maria an me, steps it out for a long walk down the street and along the Dodder river bank, where the thick Weeping Willows reach out and hang drooping over the flowing water, and as that river babbles along, a big old mister Herring bird is perched upon a low reaching branch, and with one eye he watches us, as we go walking by…

Then after a beaut feed, some fine wine, we tuck in tight around the TV and see Italy take Germany out of the World Cup chase…It’s late as I lay and read up on some more of them wild Bukowski raves…My dream time, while I was sleeping, slips off the tether, and races madly out of my mind…

Then I awake and it’s another Wednesday…   Hey…

This is a special day this morn, because at 10 am I’m at the front door, on the side walk, there at the traffic lights, just down the street, tucked in close to the corner, Irish pub, with a little beaut beer garden out the back, and when you’re there; you are at Comins of Rathgar…the pub has just opened, so I orders up a cup of coffee with a shot of Baileys, as upon request, they tune the big screen into the 3^rd and deciding State of Origin League match, for a live telecast, it’s a tight tussle and the hits are big, four all at half time, early in the second half QLD got some bad calls from the ref and NSW slipped out to a fourteen four lead, with ten minutes to go QLD clawed there way back into the game, then with a few minutes left on the clock the Maroons swooped on a loose pass and scored under the posts, kicked the conversion and won the match sixteen, fourteen, I skip back along the street elated, have some lunch, then were off to that quaint little sea side town called Dun Laoghaire [pronounced Dun Leary] for a sunny stroll along the pier…