Buses, Babs and the lengths I will go to for a reasonably-priced can of good quality hairspray

My hair is naturally straight and it is extremely fine, so au naturel it is a depressingly flat, shapeless mop on top of my head. I'd rather look like I am sporting a bird's nest to be honest. Hence I can't be without a comb and good hairspray. So anyway last week I ran out of hairspray, I use Tresemmé freeze hold, swear by it. But money is tight at the moment, could I afford 'fast drying', 'extra strong hold', 'professional quality', 'humidity resistant', 'climate controlling', 'used by professionals' hairspray? I didn't feel like I could justify it, so instead bought a 70p supermarket brand can. Bad idea. To my hair it was like Magikarp's splash... no effect. I sprayed and sprayed and sprayed, used half the can, and it did NOTHING. NO-THING. Tresemmé it is then.

The supermarket nearest my house (Sainsbury's, like 20 minutes away) carries it, but would have me pay £5 for it! Pah! I had seen it just days before in ASDA for just £3. SÃO, it was decided. I spent my afternoon getting the two buses to ASDA, to get a can of hairspray. Nothing else. And I don't feel like I wasted a single moment in doing this.


Anyway, normally when you signal a bus driver you want him to stop they'll indicate to show other vehicles, as well as your good passenger self that they are going to stop. Did the driver of the number 12 bus do this on hairspray afternoon? No. No he didn't. He didn't at all. So I signalled again at which point he was close enough for me to see him gesturing impatiently towards the bus door, was he trying to tell me it wouldn't open? Perhaps he wanted me to come and meet him halfway?? Upon the bus's arrival, I noticed the door was open, as if I should have realised that and stopped my irritating signalling -.-


Catching the bus is always sometimes interesting (even sometimes the waiting is interesting, not too often though). A regular topic of conversation in our house is the people on the number 7 bus, who we both know well from all the times we have caught the bus. We've started giving them nicknames now (well, those people whose names we haven't already found out), the nicknames began just last week as I was discussing a terrifying bus ride with "Babs", her kids, and her sister's kids running riot. It was decided that this woman's name should be "Babs" for some reason, she is loud, has loads of kids, and me and my housemate see her everywhere. When I think about the many, many hours I have spent traveling on buses, I think that it's nice I get to derive some form of enjoyment from all this time spent sitting down being ferried around the houses.


The bus drivers can also be a good topic of conversation. Also last week, one started driving away before I'd finished getting off AND I NEARLY TRIPPED. But I didn't fall over, luckily. My housemate says I should have, then I could have sued Stagecoach. She's probably right. Agck. Then the next day when I got the midnight bus home, the guy driving it looked about 80, srsly, he looked like he should have been at home tucked up in bed, asleep, like 6 hours before. His glasses were from the 1970s!!!!!!! I am not lying. And don't get me started on the ones that drive away when you've barely gotten on, though they're actually not that bad here. In Spain it's like they're really angry at you for making them stop, they're always in a serious hurry to get somewhere.


So who else have I seen on the bus, I hear you ask. (I feel like my blog is turning into a blog about the people I see on the bus D:) Well, last week I also saw a guy with wispy green hair. It was the grossest colour you can imagine. Green tinged with yellow. And wispy. It was wispy, and it made me sick. The day before I was on a bus with one other guy, with a decent haircut, but a really miserable face, and as he made his way down the gangway to get off, he did a pull up on the rings for standing passengers without a perfect sense of balance to support themselves at the front of the bus. I was like ¿¿??