Next Time I'm Walking

My attempt at walking to work along the beach this morning was swiftly curtailed when it seemed the rain, far from lightening, was in fact getting heavier. Despite only living two minutes from the seafront, it took me fifteen minutes to get there and back to where I started to catch the bus.
Even under the most desperate of circumstances, the bus (Brighton and Hove buses are notoriously unpleasant) is never a pleasant experience. I managed to get a seat, and sat staring into space - and the woman who left her handbag in the walkway, causing people to trip over it.
A woman with a pushchair got on, causing everybody to inwardly sigh. I stood up, not quite knowing where to go. The bus was very crowded. The woman with the pushchair managed to slot her self in at a kind of angle. The woman with the handbag glared at me with an expression somewhere between utter hatred and disgust. 'C'mon....' she hissed at me, as if, somehow, it was all my fault (I think something to do with the woman and the pushchair.
I couldn't see where to go. There seemed to be nowhere to stand. That same sense of panicky out-of-place claustrophobia that necessitated my swift exit from the Prince Albert on Saturday night came down. I pushed past everyone, and got off the bus... five minutes from where the journey had begun.
At least it had stopped raining.