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It was getting very late in the evening and I was wondering what clothes to wear...no, not really, but I was putting the finishing touches to an assignment due in the next day. All I had to do was tidy up my footnotes and bibliography, check the format and spelling and I could call it a night. A fellow student IM'd me to ask a couple of questions about the assignment, including whether or not I could print their essay off and bring it in the next morning because their printer was broken. Normally this would not be a problem, but although I have two printers, neither of them was working. We agreed that we would both take electronic copies of each others assignments and go on a printing mission, meeting up at the University the next morning to use the facilities there if we were not successful. Sorted.

So...I got up really early and went to throw myself on the mercy of my good friend down the street who definitely had a working printer. Now when I say "working", I mean that it does print but you have to feed each sheet of paper into it manually, one at a time and it is extremely slow. But I had plenty of time, or at least, that is what I thought until, to my horror, I opened my essay. Something evil had happened in the mix and the whole document (all 11 pages of it) was scrambled and had to be reformatted, which took ages...

Finally I was ready to print off the two essays, which took about an hour in all (seriously) between tantrums, and I owe an enormous debt of gratitude to my printer-owning friend who not only put up with me but helped me feed paper into the printer and made me coffee as well! What a star!

I raced out of her house with less than 5 minutes to get to the bus stop and catch the bus into town. I waited...I waited a little longer...the bus was late. Just as I was getting really anxious, it appeared and I walked to the edge of the pavement, put out my hand to hail it, watched it indicate left and then turn up another street. It was on the alternative route. Panic! I would never make it to the other bus stop in time, but I should try, or should I? Would it be worth the risk of humiliation as I stumbled past the scores of amused passengers, only to reach the doors of the bus as it was pulling away, leaving me to endure the inevitable smirks? I spent so much time thinking about it that I didn't make it and I was left standing there, red in the face and ready to scream. I turned to my trusty 'phone, dialed the number of the other student whose essay I was holding as the deadline was drawing closer - ready to tell her that I had missed then bus. Then it happened...a miracle! Not quite choirs of angels and an image of some saintly effigy appearing in the discarded gum that was smeared across the bus stop panel, but a miracle none the less. A bus! I'd never noticed that one before, but it was there and as it hissed to a halt in front of me I nearly fell on my knees. However, shock kept me standing as my call connected to a very worried-sounding fellow student,

"Hello? Where are you?"
"Oh hi, I'm just calling to tell you I am getting on the bus now..."

Great recovery!

I was still talking to her as I boarded, 'phone in one hand, bus pass in the other, large bag-o-essays slung over my shoulder, but the driver wanted to see my Student ID card. Of course he did, why not? I mean, it's not like I have ever been asked to produce it before, but this was a special morning, this was the morning that I was already running very late on a precarious deadline. So I offered up my ID card, blood group, date of birth, eye-colour etc. in sheer exasperation and to his complete bemusement. Alright, I know it was not nice to take on a sarcastic mantle, but have you ever tried to tuck one of those tiny cell 'phones under your chin and carry on taking a call while you multi-task elsewhere? It's like trying to eat Jello with a fork. Honestly, "patience - he - saint - a - the - tried - of" (rearrange those words in a sentence of your choice - I think you will get my drift...). Despite my obvious fluster (or maybe as a result of it) he jerked the bus into motion before I had a chance to find a seat and I fell long ways into the nearest one (thank goodness there was nobody actually sitting in it) bags and limbs akimbo.

Once I had gathered myself together and extricated my arms (and one leg) from the string of my bag-o-essays I settled back into my seat, took a deep breath and realised there was a strong smell of alcohol coming from behind me. Hardly daring to turn round but compelled to do so, I faced the source of the odour. Behind me were three adults and their dog, their really big hairy dog who was the only one who didn't smell...of booze. I took a mental polaroid of the scene (in case it was my last) and attempted that nonchalant averting of one's gaze and slow turning of one's head that we all affect when we are caught eyeballing someone we either should not or would not want to be caught eyeballing. I tried to draw as little attention to myself as possible but then my 'phone rang.

My ring tone sounds like a frog, so after the first couple of loud "ribbets" there was much mirth behind me as one of them drawled, "Got a frog in yer pocket?" and the others fell about laughing at this jewel of wit. Pained, I took the call from my daughter who was reminding me about something or other...but I was not concentrating on the call. Instead, I was concentrating on the biggest wasp in the world that had decided, out of the whole bus, it was going to come and bother me - probably because I was the only person on the bus with a wasp sting allergy. The boozy guffawing behind me almost drove me to allow myself to be stung as the prospect of slipping into anaphylactic shock at this point was actually appealing, but then I remembered the essays and my mission. I got up, I edged away into the rocking aisle and looked for help anywhere but behind me. Alas, it was not forthcoming. Where are all the wasp slayers when you need one, eh? Carefully, with one eye on the wasp and wishing that there really was a frog in my pocket, I got the essay folder out of my bag and..."THWACK!!". One ex-wasp. Behind me, someone lit a cigarette and the driver immediately invoked the no smoking policy, insisting they stub it out. I was ticked off then. He failed to notice that I was leaping about in the back of the bus, fighting for my life with the insect from Hell but one whiff of tobacco smoke and he comes over all enforcer. Typical!

Finally, the bus got me to my destination and to my relief I had about thirty minutes to spare. I found my friend, gave her the essay and we went and handed them in to the office. Relief took over and, needing some relaxation and TLC after this traumatizing morning, I was looking forward to my appointment at the nail salon that afternoon.

The nail technician was running late as the nail salon is also a wig store, which was very busy and she was on her own. She waved me to a seat in the corner by the window and promised she would not be long. Opposite me on the comfy, red couch were two women, an older lady and another younger lady who seemed to be her grown up daughter. I shifted awkwardly in my not so comfy plastic chair and tried not to be intimidated by the dozens of plastic heads which surrounded me. The nail technician/wig dresser was frantically combing out a long, ash blonde creation for one of the customers already in the changing cubicles. She passed it through the door and was handed, in return, another similar long blonde wig. Then, after I moment I heard a gruff voice say,

"I think I like the other one, love."

The ladies on the couch looked at me. I looked at them. Then the older of the two shot me a long, knowing wink.

At that moment the occupant of changing room number two emerged, an immaculately dressed, elderly lady sporting a rather tousled grey wig. She browsed the rows of plastic heads thoughtfully and then picked another wig to try. She trotted back into the changing room and within seconds was back out again, having decided that she should ask the opinion of all assembled. Well that was no problem, the wig looked fantastic. What was a problem was the fact that she decided she needed to explain to us all why she needed the wig in the first place. It seemed that she had decided some time previously that she preferred to go naked, well from the neck up, anyhow. She was completely bald, by choice, and for one riveting moment, I actually expected her to tear off her wig and ask us to pat her bald head to see how nice and smooth it really was! Thankfully she did not but it was an image, no matter how fanciful, I would have preferred not to have had.

She decided she would take the wig and wear it right away and seemed oblivious to the long string and tag hanging from it, down to the middle of her back. I was just about to tell her when the customer from changing room number one emerged, carrying his long, blonde wig in a box. A short, grey-haired, middle-aged man with a deep regional accent, he helped the bald lady deal with her swinging price ticket. I couldn't speak. I couldn't move. I looked up, past the rows of plastic heads and then the older of the two ladies on the couch shot me another long, knowing wink. This was too much and I gathered myself together, made my apologies, cited my appointment now being 30 minutes overdue as my excuse and ran for the door!

As soon as I got into the town center I was aware of a street vendor selling copies of a charity magazine. I stopped to buy one and just as I was paying him, another collector appeared behind me and asked if I would care to donate to his charity. The charity magazine seller looked up and put his hands out in front of him, marking his area, and said to the charity collector, in a "no nonsense" voice,

"25 yards mate, you have to back off 25 yards!"

So there was I, inside the 25 yard zone, street sellers at 12 o'clock and 6 o'clock about to have a showdown over their territories. I realised that for the second time that afternoon I was going to have to beat a hasty retreat. I ran again, looking over my shoulder just the once, to see a charity magazine seller and the charity collector squaring up to each other, collecting tins at the ready, this time I did not stop running until I was safely on my bus (having checked for dogs, drunks and wasps), heading home..