The circuitous paths of council estate buses could be said to materially embody the inefficiency with which this society is permeated, and which it disavows. Reverend Roy Walker often uses these buses to attend outlying churches. He's one of the few passengers today. Where the motion permits he jots down a few words in an exercise book. I've been on these buses when kids have chucked stones at the bus, walked across in front of the shops, and chucked stones at the bus again as it came back round the corner. Revd. Walker is composing a prayer:
D.L.W.P. (dear lord we pray) for pensioners struggling with fuel costs at this time. The bus rocks on its gearing and descends the next street.
&W.P.O.L. Past rhodedendron bushes. Our soldiers in Afghanistan.
&W.A.P. (we also pray) Our soldiers in Iraq, that they may be returned. Past blurred out front gardens kids playing on a swing.
&W.A.P. People in hospitals, and awaiting operations.
The bus lurches onward.
T.W.P.O.L. - Amen.