Butler, the depot’s best driver, steered his double decker out of Wandsworth Depot and onto the A37. It was a typical London morning\u2014grey, overcast, rain threatening to bring out the kids who splash in puddles. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
Each morning for five days a week, Butler drove a bus on the 415 route, the driver’s cabin fragranced by his inexpensive aftershave. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
‘Hello, Mrs Farnsworth, how’s your Bert’s lumbago?’
‘Mustn’t grumble’ the pensioner replied as she boarded and sat in her usual spot, her handbag clasped in front of her on her lap. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
‘Mr Johnson, how are you today?’ On to the next stop. <\/p>\n\n\n\n ‘Morning Butler,’ said young Judith Hollitt. Stop after stop after stop, picking up those who work in the City or somewhere on the way in. <\/p>\n\n\n\n Every day he passed the same landmarks. Every day he steered around the same roundabouts. Every day he dealt with the same traffic delays. And he loved it, he loved it all.\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n ‘Ere, mate, how come I sees you every day? Doncha drive other routes?’ a dreadlocked black teenage boy asked.\u00a0 ‘OI, BUTLER.’ Reggie shouted. ‘There’s someone being strangled in the apartment block back there!’<\/p>","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Butler, the depot’s best driver, steered his double decker out of Wandsworth Depot and onto the A37. It was a typical London morning\u2014grey, overcast, rain threatening to bring out the kids who splash in puddles. Each morning for five days a week, Butler drove a bus on the 415 route, the driver’s cabin fragranced by…<\/p>","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"nf_dc_page":"","_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0,"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[3],"tags":[108,110,109],"ppma_author":[306],"class_list":["post-2484","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-creative-writing","tag-bus","tag-butler","tag-driver"],"yoast_head":"\n
‘It’s cold isn’t it, Butler? Other than that, it’s as good as we can hope for,’ replied the portly man who was probably overdue for a midlife crisis but didn’t have the cash for a new Harley or a red convertible Porsche. He could probably stretch to a couple of hours with an acne-riddled teenage boy, Butler thought<\/em>. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
‘Morning, Judith. Have you picked out a dress for your wedding?’
‘Mum and I went shopping on Saturday. We found one but it’s a lot more expensive than we were expecting. So I’m having a think about it. Thank you for asking.’ <\/p>\n\n\n\n
‘No, I love this route. And my bosses get lots of emails from passengers that say they like having the same driver each day. My bosses at the depot recognise that as a good thing, so each day I get the same bus and drive the same route.’
‘My name’s Reggie, what’s yours?’\u00a0
‘You can call me Butler,’ he smiled.\u00a0
‘Righto, Butler, nice to meet you,’ and Reggie moved back to the rear of the bus and resumed his staring out of the windows.\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n
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