Sunday March 5th
Work work work. Yes, I do do some sometimes. Oh, and a bit of speech writing... ; )

Monday March 6th
More work. Punctuated by pancakes. And a long run through the park. Who knows, I might be needed for the football team back in Sheffield (I am the only one tall enough to tie the nets onto the crossbar without going up the ladder, after all).

Tuesday March 7th
Work. And watching the BBC Sport website as Chelsea are slowly but surely knocked out of the Champions' League. Get in there- I mean, jolly hard luck chaps.

In the evening, I catch a bus downtown to go and see a gig. But a few words about the bus journey. The driver looked like the fella from "The Green Mile" and was about the same size.















He turned out to be a TOTAL legend. First, he let a dwarf guy on without his pass- "You can have a courtesy ride, my friend, because you came onto the bus and asked in a respectful manner". They talked like old friends all the way until the guy reached his stop. Then on the Ave, a guy got on who looked like my man Flavour Flav-

This dude was riproaring drunk, but he was one of those livewire characters. He started off ranting. Drive reminded him,

"Sir? No pro-fanity on the bus please!"

"Wah?"

"Please do not curse on the bus".

Flav was chatting to Drive about Afrika Bamabaataa (a Hip-hopper) and then he got up and started doing some crazy (and frankly rubbish) breakdancin' on the bus, in front of everyone! "Plan-et... RRRRRROCK!" Drive was just chuckling away. A crazy lady came on and sat next to me, with her tambourine rattling in her bag and her church song sheet in her hand. She came from the Bwackie Stallone school of make-up.

And she started laughing away at Flavour Flav and blathering on to me about him. Flav was on a roll about something to do with misdemeanours. "We awl done it... climbing off yo Daddy's porch in the evenin..." I was loving all of this. And the Drive just kept on chatting to Flavour in such a good-natured way. Whenever anyone pulled the cord for a stop, Drive would say over the microphone "STARP REE-QUESTED... Please stay seated for your own pro-tection until the bus has come to a com-plete standstill!... Thankyou Sir, you have a nice day... Thankyou Madam... All clear brother, on you get! Yes sister, on you get!"

As I was getting off, I said I wanted to shake his hand for being such a gentleman. He whipped his glove off and gripped my hand...

"Why thankyou Sir. Just doin my jarb..."

"What's your name?"

"Tony."

"Tony. Well, I've been here for 2 months and you're definitely the best bus driver I've seen!"

"Why thankyou. Where you from, brother?"

"England".

"Oh, the Queen's State?"

"Yeah, I guess so".

"Well nice to meet you. You have a good day."

I realise this sounds a bit ridiculous but there you go. You would have done the same thing! He was such a star. I know it is part of the culture to be chatty and all "have a nice day" but this guy was so good to all the weird and wonderful creatures who crawled onto his bus. I thought he was the man.

I scuttled round to the Crocodile Cafe for a gig. Three bands- Whalebones, The Can't See and The Pink Mountaintops. The venue is the most famous place in Seattle. Nice and small. Good feel to it. Not packed, but then the bands weren't too well known. The Can't See were the best- a three piece (usually a good sign) whereas the others had a right old stagefull. I think there is a less is more approach to numbers in bands. Any more than 5 members and you gotta start asking questions! Here's The Can't See. And appropriately enough, you can't see them.




They were a bit like The Shins meets Sparks. I liked them. Between bands, I sat on a table on me tod like Billy no-mates, nursing a beer and writing postcards. A few people asked me to mind their beer when they went out for a fag. Some guys started apologizing to me for George Bush.

So it was a good gig, not great. But another thing ticked off my list of "what to do in Seattle".

I got the 12:20 bus back and who should be driving but Tony. He had a bus half-full of drifters, smackheads and crazies and sure enough, he called them all Sir and Madam and did his best to see them right. Driving down the Ave, I saw about 20 blokes (they look like Frat boys) laying into each other. Looked like they were too drunk to do much damage, and it was more of a hugfest than anything else.

When I got off at 29th Ave, I said to Tony (cringe):

"Hi, it's me, the English dude."
"Oh, the English dude!" like old friends. Another handshake.

"You should come and be a bus driver in England!"

(laughing) "You blow buses up in England, don't you?"

"Oh that was a one-off, a one-off..."

"Well, you have a good night, brother" etc etc

I think that was my equivalent to "You're my besht mate, you are!" I had had THREE whole bottles of beer, all to myself. Maybe I am already feeling a bit sad to be leaving Seattle behind.