Receipt

A brilliantly refreshed student falls onto the bus in a flurry of scarves, a billow of over-sized trousers and a gust, if I’m any judge, of Chateau Cidre et Noir. After a fruitless search for her ticket she triumphantly slaps an Asda receipt onto the ticket machine, accompanied by the most engaging of smiles, whereupon the following conversation takes place

To whit:

Brilliantly Refreshed Student: (Clocking my expression) What?
Me: What do you mean ‘what’? That’s a receipt
BFS: No it’s not
Me: (Sigh) Yes, it is
BFS: It’s not
Me: It is. Maybe have another look?
BFS: (Reality dawning) Oh! (Snort) Sorry! Hang on…

After more rummaging through her tie-dye bag and a further barrage of knee-weakening smiles, she produces a slip of paper. It is, of course, another receipt, this time for local hostelry The Raven (née Hatchetts)

Me: That’s another receipt
BFS: No it’s not
Me: Yes, it is. Look, do you have a ticket or not?
BFS: No
Me: So, do you need to go somewhere
BFS: Yes
Me: OK. You’re a student, yes?
BFS: Yes
Me: Right. It’s £1.50 then, please
BFS: OK
Me: (Dreading what’s to come) Do you have your Student ID Card?
BFS: Yes… (Opens bags again) Hang on…
Me: Oh, forget it
BFS: (Giggles) Thanks! (Smile)
Me: Well played

http://viewfromthebus.co.uk

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