Craic On

I got the call on Tuesday. I’m not talking literally. It came in a text message and instructed me to follow the link to online booking. I did as I was told but it didn’t like my text enlargement. It would be a best guess then. If I had more of an eye for detail, I might not have made such a hash of it. A ten-minute car journey could be anything from twenty minutes or an hour on, that Emperor of transport, the bus. I split the difference and allowed forty minutes. In the best tradition of royalty, the bus kept me waiting. It kept me waiting for longer than three buses were timetabled for. There was quit a little clutch of mask clad passengers poised to jostle for the door when it finally opened. I did what I always do. I went to sit down in the first available seat. “Not here,” said a muffled voice. On to the next seat then. “You can’t sit here,’ said another muffled voice as she banged her knuckles vigorously on the window. Where was I to sit? Third time lucky. I’ve lost track of “the rules”. The variatio