BUS STOP

My first word, according to my mother, was not mummy or daddyI or dindins. She told me that I pointed to a bus and said BUS. 
I have many happy memories about buses, especially from childhood. Until a few years ago I ignored them until I turned 70, got a free pass and suddenly, after thirty years I discovered there is a BUS stop a few yards from my home. From this bus stop I can go to the local marina, to the airport and with two other buses, to my own personal bit of heaven, which is what I did.
The blip is of my first stop where I change buses.
It took me two hours to arrive. I intended to stay for two nights, but as luck would have it, I had to return this morning for something urgent. 
I managed to finish painting the front door. Not much else as I was not  feeling 100%. About 60% actually. I did enjoy just sitting in a deck chair enjoying the views.
It was still dark when I set out early in the morning and the grass was soaking wet so I wrapped my feet in plastic bags to keep my shoes dry. On my way to the bus stop I passed three houses. Everyone was asleep except a white horse who walked up to greet me.
 All the local dogs were inside and quiet as I tramped along the winding up and downhill path to the main road.
 All quiet. Just the sound of birds singing and my shoes.
 All quiet..... until I did a little, nobody about anyway, burp, then all the dogs rushed out into their yards and started barking at me.
I made it to the bus stop for the 06 22 bus. 
I love buses. I love seeing all the interesting  people and wonder about their lives.