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cosmolinguistOn the day that ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
demiurgician and I had planned our much-lauded trip to Stockport, Andrew was being helpful by telling me how to get there before he left for work in the morning.
"In case you don't know how to get to Stockport—" he started.
"Of course we don't know how to get to Stockport!" I interrupted. "We've never had any reason to go there."
We did now, though. Back whenshowmehowyou was still in Manchester, the two of them had noticed an ad on the side of a bus that was for a thing called Staircase House. They wondered what Staircase House might be. All they knew about it is what the bus ad told them: it had some kind of (re?)opening date and it was in Stockport.
Stockport is part of "Greater Manchester"; sorta its own city, sorta not. I think it depends on who you ask, and how far away from Stockport or Manchester they live.
So, yes, my friends were basically planning a field trip to someplace a few miles away, definitely something you could get to by bus or a few minutes on a train.
Anywayshowmehowyou left before the field trip could happen, and I found myself involved in it. demiurgician also found out there was a Toys 'R Us in Stockport. And a Borders. She wanted to go to both of those places as well.
Further elaborations on the trip came about when we asked our friendsablin1975, who lives in Stockport, about how to get to all these places. He drew us a map (a map that turned out to be useless and maybe even harmful, I might add!) and said he'd meet us for dinner when he got home from work.
So, as it turns out, we suddenly had all kinds of reasons to go to a place we'd never had any reason to go to before.
"You can get to Stockport," Andrew continued after my interruption, "on the 197, or..."
"The 192," I said with him, adding, "Yeah, actually I did know that."
"How did you know that?" he asked, with a puzzled look on his face (at least, I think it was a puzzled look, but this was a while ago and I can't really remember; ah well, it makes the story better).
"Because I went to Stockport on the 192," I said, grinning slightly as I remembered the circumstances of this journey.
"When did you go to Stockport?" Andrew was still confused.
"On Saturday!" I could no longer pretend nonchalance; my grin was reaching wicked proportions.
I thought he couldn't fail to get it then, but it did still take a second. I saw the recognition hit his face, wiping out the bewilderment, and laughed.
This is how you know your fiancé really doesn't mind you randomly going home with another guy; he's totally forgotten about it three days later.
When I told this story todemiurgician and irrtum, the latter replied that she was impressed that I'd actually looked at and remembered the number on the bus, saying she wouldn't have done that under such circumstances. I said it just proved how habitual it'd become for me to look at the number of any bus I see. (Obviously I'd been riding buses too much. If more proof be needed, around this time I also nearly stuck my arm out to flag down an approaching tram before remembering that I did not need to do so and, more importantly, I would look extraordinarily ridiculous.)
demiurgician told me that the 192 is haunted. She told me that sometimes a guy in a red hoodie is seen on the top deck and when someone goes to tell him the bus has reached the end of the line and he has to get off, there's no one there.
I thought about this, and declared that it must suck to have to be haunting a bus. She told me that's fairly common; the people just want to get home, and go about it in the way they're accustomed to. Still. I don't like buses that much.
demiurgician and I had planned our much-lauded trip to Stockport, Andrew was being helpful by telling me how to get there before he left for work in the morning."In case you don't know how to get to Stockport—" he started.
"Of course we don't know how to get to Stockport!" I interrupted. "We've never had any reason to go there."
We did now, though. Back when
showmehowyou was still in Manchester, the two of them had noticed an ad on the side of a bus that was for a thing called Staircase House. They wondered what Staircase House might be. All they knew about it is what the bus ad told them: it had some kind of (re?)opening date and it was in Stockport.Stockport is part of "Greater Manchester"; sorta its own city, sorta not. I think it depends on who you ask, and how far away from Stockport or Manchester they live.
So, yes, my friends were basically planning a field trip to someplace a few miles away, definitely something you could get to by bus or a few minutes on a train.
Anyway
showmehowyou left before the field trip could happen, and I found myself involved in it. demiurgician also found out there was a Toys 'R Us in Stockport. And a Borders. She wanted to go to both of those places as well.Further elaborations on the trip came about when we asked our friend
sablin1975, who lives in Stockport, about how to get to all these places. He drew us a map (a map that turned out to be useless and maybe even harmful, I might add!) and said he'd meet us for dinner when he got home from work.So, as it turns out, we suddenly had all kinds of reasons to go to a place we'd never had any reason to go to before.
"You can get to Stockport," Andrew continued after my interruption, "on the 197, or..."
"The 192," I said with him, adding, "Yeah, actually I did know that."
"How did you know that?" he asked, with a puzzled look on his face (at least, I think it was a puzzled look, but this was a while ago and I can't really remember; ah well, it makes the story better).
"Because I went to Stockport on the 192," I said, grinning slightly as I remembered the circumstances of this journey.
"When did you go to Stockport?" Andrew was still confused.
"On Saturday!" I could no longer pretend nonchalance; my grin was reaching wicked proportions.
I thought he couldn't fail to get it then, but it did still take a second. I saw the recognition hit his face, wiping out the bewilderment, and laughed.
This is how you know your fiancé really doesn't mind you randomly going home with another guy; he's totally forgotten about it three days later.
When I told this story to
demiurgician and irrtum, the latter replied that she was impressed that I'd actually looked at and remembered the number on the bus, saying she wouldn't have done that under such circumstances. I said it just proved how habitual it'd become for me to look at the number of any bus I see. (Obviously I'd been riding buses too much. If more proof be needed, around this time I also nearly stuck my arm out to flag down an approaching tram before remembering that I did not need to do so and, more importantly, I would look extraordinarily ridiculous.)demiurgician told me that the 192 is haunted. She told me that sometimes a guy in a red hoodie is seen on the top deck and when someone goes to tell him the bus has reached the end of the line and he has to get off, there's no one there.I thought about this, and declared that it must suck to have to be haunting a bus. She told me that's fairly common; the people just want to get home, and go about it in the way they're accustomed to. Still. I don't like buses that much.
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(no subject)
Date: 2005-10-05 06:40 am (UTC)hey props on the bus skills.
i love it when i realize conciously that something has become such a part of my routine that i'm unconciously practicing skills needed.
the idea of haunted double decker busses is kinda cool to me.
at least the ghosts get to be around lots of people rather than stuck in some dank basement or something.
(no subject)
Date: 2005-10-05 06:57 am (UTC)Stockport,a city.Like it!!We've been trying for years,but despite the fact our population is 300,000, we can't get city status.
(no subject)
Date: 2005-10-05 01:05 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2005-10-05 01:58 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2005-10-05 02:18 pm (UTC)