The world is my oyster.

And so I begin my first blog away from the constant buzz of London and I would like to write about...TFL.
Did I ever mention how sterling an organisation I find it? No? Well, now I'm saying it. Sterling.
One doesn't appreciate it enough when one has been waiting for a bus for 6 minutes and then when it comes, you have to stand. Damn that cost me £1.35.
Having waited in the rain for 20 minutes the other day for a bus that should have come in half the time, and having paid £1.70 on the only not broken ticket machine for the privilege, I yearn for the days of the 6 minute wait being about the maximum. Oh Boris, how I miss you...
True, this bus was not so crowded...but that's only because the service was so appalling it just wasn't worth it. I just can't drive so i'm stuck with it. Boo.
But, this was in Chester, a metropolis of public transport compared with the one solitary bus that passes through my village every couple of hours. Now I'm really going to have to time this carefully. Or sweet talk my parents into becoming a personal taxi service. I'm sure they will. They loved it when I was 15.
I have yet to decide where I need to go though. I am so far unemployed (a state I'm rather enjoying) and generally undecided about who might give me a job for 2 or 3 days a week for 2 months with preferably no weekends. Hmm... is it ok to sign on so I can save for travels? It doesn't seem quite right somehow. And I really don't know how I would get to the job centre anyway. The bus remember...
And don't feel sorry for me but I am so far friendless (probably because I have been confined to the house by copious amounts of unpacking and healthy supplies of both cheese and cake) so I have absolutely no reason to need public transport anyway.
Which is what brings me to this blog. Nostalgia for the ability to not even notice how much the bus costs because of the magic wand that is an oyster card. The freedom that comes with having a choice not to run for the bus and take one in 2 minutes. Or having a choice of routes. Or having someone to meet at the other end, or a museum to go to, or an Urban Outfitters...alas...
OK, I'm exaggerating a little. I've been here less than a week so my withdrawal symptoms are at their peak. I do not miss being at armpit height on a crowded tube. There.
And actually I've been a lot more productive than I've been for a long time. The time I used to spend on the tube I'm now devoting to perfecting Moon River on the ukulele (I want to be Holly Golightly). And today I re-ignited my love of The Sound of Music. I'm uplifted and ready to climb every mountain, ford every stream...I will have to, if I continue to procrastinate this much I'll miss my bus. Walking up a mountain might be the only way.