Ger-Ger's escapades in Bristol Story

Autumn has arrived! Leaves are beginning to fall, it's harder to get out of bed, our windscreen washer ran out and needed replenishing... not so related to autumn; more related to the length of time between filling up the washer fluid and filling up the washer fluid again.

Anyway, so that sets the seasonal theme, but highly unrelated to this; my parents came for a weekend! I was very excited because when my parents visit they take me to do touristy things and we have lots of nice food and drink, and also lots of great family banter and mercilous teasing of everyone which is a good antedote to pride.

Anyways, so what I really want to share is this:
Our saturday plan was to travel from our house in rural suburban, middle class, green, leafy bliss in Henleaze down into the centre of town to visit SS Great Britain; the greatest boat ever to carry people and then get dumped off the Falklands Island for years before people realised it was an icon of the 19th century and needed hauling back to Bristol to be renevated and looked at.

I'm not here to discuss the funtimes that were had strolling round the SS Great Britain; I'm here to relay the bus-stop times.

So; at the bus-stop was a wonderful homeless ruffian sipping on white lightning cider and playing the harmonica and being very chatty and outgoing to the people around him. When the bus came, we all moved towards the bus, the homeless man included. We all boarded the bus except for the homeless man, who seemed to have some kind of beef with the bus or some people boarding the bus.

As the bus pulled away to a single fingered gesture by the man, my dad let us in on his thoughts on why the man was upset.

My dad said that, as the man had got up from his seat at the bus shelter, my dad had thought he was getting onto the bus, thus abandoning the can of cider that he was leaving sitting on the pavement at the bus stop. My dad then told us that in London, he had a habit (you can also read 'compulsion' here) of knocking over drinks cans he saw left in the street because they would either be left over drink, or urine; i.e. not nice.

So you can take the man out of London, but you can't stop the man knocking over a poor man's treasure in Bristol.

So; the homeless man returned from his outing to the bus entrance to find that someone had knocked over his cider. He wasn't best pleased, but had no idea who had done it. Thus he was very angry with the bus in general.
The end.