Crying, Inspector? Sat at the back of the bus on the lower level is something I only like to do when the bus is empty. The views are great then, but when the bus is full, London-passing is replaced with prams and shopping bags. Sat at the back one day, when 3 ticket inspectors rambled on, I watched an argument unfold between a passenger and one of the inspectors. The man's ticket had expired, the ones you buy in central London before you hop on, and he had been asked to pay a £5 fine. Not so bad, you think, as he'd probably been travelling on the same ticket all day. Not so, and the inspector listened to his excuses calmly, before explaining to the offending passenger that he was being fined £5, but could appeal thereafter. The irate passenger eventually stormed off the bus, forcing the doors open when we were stopped at lights. The inspector, obviously tense after the exchange, returned to the front of the bus where the other inspectors waited. They shared a joke, before he turned away from his colleagues to wipe away a tear. Posted by: James B | April 22, 2004 02:49 PM. Waterloo to Brixton.

A touch. An elderly and frail woman boarded the bus in front on me at a stop near Victoria station. It was quite an effort for her to pull herself up onto the platform. She used both hands on the railings and blocked the entry to all other boarding passengers until she steadied herself. The bus engine noisily turned over and over in anticipation of leaving. Once on board she moved slowly to take a seat but looked very unsteady as the bus started to move. The young male conductor held one open hand a distance from the middle of her back to catch her should she fall back. Then his open hand made contact with her back and started to push gently to help her move forward. It was a simple and delicate touch yet seemed so remarkable in the care it delivered. Neither person said anything. Posted by: Kat | May 13, 2004 02:49 PM. Kings cross to Stoke Newington.