I gave my car away this weekend. I seldom use it, don’t truly need it, since I got a bus pass, and my nephew in Ireland is caring for his dad, who’s 85 and has just had a pacemaker fitted. Sam had to borrow a wheelchair a couple weeks ago to take his dad to a GP appointment, after his lift didn’t materialise. Stressful for them both and solvable, so, farewell wheels…

Today, on the bus, I sat next to a man in a blue hat. He was counting a stash of crisp Euros and told me he was going on holiday to Cape Verde. He’d already had his shots, Typhoid, Hepatitis A, something else, I forget what. We chatted about holidays and turns out he’s been everywhere, The Middle East, Asia… Travelling keeps me going, he said, don’t drink, don’t smoke, I like to travel. He asked me where I’d been and I couldn’t compete with his list, my frequent visits to Ireland and France seeming small by comparison. But he was keen to know all about Northern Ireland, he’d never been and intended to go ‘someday’. I told him people often said that to me and that they were still worried about their personal safety. He agreed and said he thought France must be a bit scary, too, these days. I said, no, not really, it’s beautiful and the food is out of this world.

Funny what people find scary, don’t you think? And what they talk about to complete strangers on the bus.