Route 28

Part 2 of an occasional series of shots taken on board the buses. Part 1 here

Bomble,my feline alarm clock, woke me at 5.15, 7,15 and 8.15 respectively. The third time, he started combing my scalp with his claws. But I did not throw him off the bed, because I'd decided to go to Nailsworth on the next country bus route, to save having to walk for 20 minutes in the pouring rain to Stroud bus station.

So I dressed for the wet, and waited. The bus was on time, and it soared through the countryside, passing a number of isolated villages, including the strangely-named Pinfarthings, where no-one, and no-one, got on. It is the most extraordinary route in the world: takes in most of Minchinhampton Common twice; Minchinhampton market town centre twice; the housing estates near Minch; before descending the steep zigzag slope known locally as "the W" into Nailsworth, another Cotswold market town. The route from our house over the common would take about 20 minutes at most, but this bus took twice that, being very busy once we reached the Glebe, one of Minch's two estates. It's not all four-wheel drives, second homes and cream teas in the Cotswolds, despite the region's 'Poshtershire' image.

Fortunately, I was in no hurry, as I only had potions to deliver to the clinic. Outside of Minch in Cuckoo row, the bus slowed to a near standstill. Changing seats,, I saw that a bunch of cows were being herded through a village to another part of the common. This is unusual, as they normally wander free-range on the commons during the months of May to November. I've never seen them being driven before. But here they are, with their attendant, who is carrying a length of hosepipe with which to whack them. Some other cows in a field saw them and came running over, and started bellowing and bawling in recognition, or lust. Our bunch threatened to join them, and completely surrounded a car that was trying to come towards us. Eventually, they were turned on to a patch of common just beyond the village seen here, and the bus carried on. The exhausted cowherd stopped to take a breather, and I noticed that he was oriental. Stroud and Nailsworth are not multicultural compared to the city of Gloucester, so I found myself wondering about his story.

Outside the Glebe estate, I saw a letterbox roughly spraypainted gold. I'd heard that three of Nailsworth's boxes had been given the Gold treatment to celebrate the achievements of the Olympic rower, Peter Reed, but this looked a botched job. I had just time to glimpse Nailsworth's 'real' gold boxes outside mini-Tesco's in the town centre, before I caught the bus back again. This time, by the Glebe, a van had drawn up, and a man with a bucket and sponge was restoring the box to Royal Mail red.

My new camera arrived about lunchtime, and has several hundreds of menus. I have been practising with the macro, but as usual, the manual appears to have been written for someone with a greater knowledge of photography than me. I shall have to work through the 70-odd pages and try not to be intimidated. I have not dropped the camera, but it does say it can be used in water, including the sea ( though it must be rinsed afterwards) and it has a very sturdy feel without being at all hefty and rubberised, unlike my rugged phone. It has a beautiful shiny metal body, so I am sure I will grow to love it !