Insights from walking around England and Wales: #17 Save emotional energy for what matters

I received a lesson in how to laugh off minor issues. But not before getting grumpy.

It was a moonless and frosty evening on the spectacular Gower peninsula in South Wales. I was waiting for the last bus of the day, to return to my camper van. Because the area was so remote, the last bus was 6.30pm. I reached the bus stop seven minutes early. Perfect! I grabbed a chocolate bar to recoup some energy and opened my phone.

A large vehicle roared by. I glanced up in panic and saw the numbers on the back of the bus fading into the distance. NO!! The time was clear: 6.25pm. I double checked the timetable: 6.30pm. I swore into the gloomy, implacable darkness. What were the choices? Call a taxi or walk back, which would take about two hours.

I called the nearest taxi service, about twenty miles away. ?

“Sorry, sonny, it’s Friday night. We can get to you around midnight if you can wait.”

I hitched up my backpack and started trudging back to the camper van. For an hour, until the battery expired, I used my phone as a torch to warn oncoming drivers. A gentle sleet began, making the road slippery.

About two-thirds of the way back to my van, I stopped with astonishment. Ahead was the bus, facing me. The same vehicle which had whooshed past the bus stop earlier. It was still, idling. Then I understood: it was on its return leg, and because it was ahead of schedule, the driver was waiting. I knocked on the door, full of righteous indignation.

“Oi, mate, you know you drove right past me on the way out to the peninsula. About an hour ago. I was waiting at the bus stop and you went straight past.”

The bus driver glared balefully at me. “No, I didn’t.”

“Well, why are you waiting here now?”

“Because I’m ahead of schedule.”

“Just like you were back there. Don’t you look at bus stops to see if there’s anyone waiting? Is that why your bus is empty?”

The bus driver had had enough. He closed the door and drove off.

Forty-five minutes later I arrived at my van, and shortly afterwards was tucking into a delicious curry. The warmth of the restaurant, the saag dal, and the pint of bitter worked their benevolent magic. In retrospect, it hadn’t been so bad. What was a couple of extra hours? Mind-space was too precious to spend brooding on minor frustrations. I would focus on what mattered. Like appreciating the glorious sunset from earlier that evening out on the lonely Gower peninsula.

A longer version of this post can be found here.

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