Big Elephants Can't Always Understand Small Elephants

Bus stops come in two forms at 1am on a school night. One form has a digital sign telling you when the next bus is due. Often there are people there. The other form has 'Countdown' on the screen. It means a long wait.

No one about on Upper Tooting Road tonight. Good for them. It was freezing. I'd left late, and made my girlfriend sit through a little too much Serge Gainsbourg. She battled well. But it was bus or walk. No taxi tonight. Must show discipline. So out into the night with my gold ears. Face painting earlier with no veto. So I spent an hour as a red faced goblin, with gold ears. Apparently that's rare.

But it was okay. I'd come prepared, with my expensive scarf and a hoodie. It works well in the cold; you look 16 but at the same time makes it clear that as you no longer care about your public appearance you will happily look stupid flailing your arms and legs at any potential attacker.

So here it was. Bus or walk? It was a risky time to expect a bus, but I could see the glow of the digital screen as I got closer to the shelter. Naturally, as I was on my own I was talking out loud. 'Is there a bus, is there a bus?' I saw a man in the distance, crossing over from the bus stop to the taxi office opposite. This is a tell tale sign of bad news. 'There must be a bus. There's a bus, no it's countdown, no it's a bus, shit no it's countdown.'

Countdown it was. But nevermind. Hoodie hood up - clothing given to me by my younger brother a few years ago, effectively a 'hand me up'. Ipod in. Tooting Bec Road.

In hindsight I should have just walked backwards. I'm not good with the dark. The fear that someone might be sneaking up on me as I walk, hoodie or not, is too great to leave alone. So, each five yards is punctuated by a rapid swing to look behind me. There's never anyone there. There was a mist on Tooting Common, the type of mist zombies appear from. But no zombies either. Just me and my shadow, scaring the fuck out of me as I swung back around.

I've walked with the same fear before, no doubt I'll do it again.

I made it back regardless, waling along the middle of the road for the final 200 yards. Back to the house and the usual welcome; a high pitch mid-west sound of crickets. I'd like to say there's no reason why we should have a cricket sound in the house at night. But my housemate decided some time ago that lizards would make a good pet. They do. But their dinner makes a hell of a noise all night. Crickets. Poor bastards must know they're doomed.

But the rest of us are fine, more than we know. For tomorrow is Tuesday! What harm could possibly come from that?