Pat and I met Catrin at 4 for tea and cake at Horace, then after buying a book as a gift for someone we went to wait for the bus 4 home.
"Is that snow?"
"I don't know. It's something."
It wasn't snow, but it could have been. The evening was dark and cold and the rain was falling heavily. Still, we wouldn't have long to wait. There's a bus 4 every ten minutes.
"It says 12 minutes."
People said they had already been waiting a long time. We decided to walk to the previous stop, where the warmth from the engine of a waiting bus 15 gave us some welcome cheer.
"Now it says 4 minutes."
6 minutes passed.
Eventually a wave of excitement came across the little crowd at the bus stop. Here it came! The bus 4!
We squirmed on with the other folk. Somehow the seat right at the front was free. I sat in it to occupy it for Pat who was following me, but the bus got so full we couldn't change place.
"We've been waiting half-an-hour. Two were due but never came."
Everyone got on board, but at the next stop people were too numerous. "I'm shutting the doors", said the driver. There came some furious hammering. It was someone handicapped with their carer. The driver let them on and they squeezed in somehow.
Pat recognised a chap with Downs syndrome who often sings on the bus. A couple of minutes later he started up. It was party time in the crowded bus.
We wondered where people would get off. Palais de Justice? No. La Médoquine where there's lots of flats. No. Almost everyone stayed on till Pessac Centre, where they were replaced by collégiens and lycéens.
Ours was the next stop. We got off, thankful to be home briefly before charging out to take bus 4 again to Pessac Alouette.
There's a bus 4 every ten minutes. We waited 25.