A misty evening

Its 5 o'clock in the evening and I have just walked up to the post box to post some Christmas cards. Its very damp, the wet mist clinging to everything, foreshortening  the world around to a ghostly indistinct image of street lamps and garden hedges. It brought back memories of my youth, setting off for a night out, dressed up in suit and tie with my posh overcoat on to stay warm (its still in use) ready to go dancing. 
Before the use of a car we always had to trudge up the road to wait for the trolley bus to take us into town. Often the weather was as it is tonight foggy and wet but it was all we knew and we accepted it as normal. Through the mist the faint light of the mud

spattered bus would emerge and we clambered on board up the stairs to the top deck. The reason for seeking the sanctuary of the top deck was that in those days the young were expected to  stand and give up their seat to any women older than themselves.   Well trained, we complied with societies notion of good manners but were able to bypass the issue by going upstairs where it was illegal to stand when the bus was in motion. 

The downside was that upstairs was also the domain of the smoker and the smoky atmosphere plus the nicotine dripping off the ceiling was unpleasant. Its funny how it took a campaign to outlaw smoking for us to really realise how obnoxious the smell of smoke is. 

We were tied to the routine of the bus timetable, last bus home, 11.00 otherwise a long, wet, 5 mile walk home. 

Our world was so different then, our aspirations were like our acceptance of the weather it was what we had grown to know. The dance was the focus of our night, the weather never stopped us, be it a Sunday out riding our bike or meeting friends to walk and talk in the evening. 

This evenings walk in the mist brought it all back.