5 gold riiiiings.

This morning I left home looking forward to polishing off Lord of the Flies. Having read the far gorier and kind of stunning Battle Royale (its more recent Japanese descendent), I have been touched by the quaint approach Golding takes to a bunch of children going psycho in a closed environment due to various pressures caused by isolation and power.

The jacket I wore today has big enough pockets that I was able to slip the novel into one before I left, mainly so I could access it the moment I needed to. I like that sort of thing. Hate ferreting around the bottom of a bag looking for something.

I got to the stop and whipped it out. Reading, reading... The bus arrived. I got on. I don't even take the ticket anymore, i'm that cool. Just pop in my toonie and away I go.

The bus rounded the first corner. I spotted the expectant punters on the footpath. About thirty thousand children aged around five, and 4 or 5 ladies who appeared to be playing chaperone.

Much joy was had putting tickets into the ticket thingy, finding the bestest seat next to the bestest friend (or mummy).

"Oooh, the bus is bouncy."
"I don't think you're as tall as me."
"Woah, look at the view. Woah!!"
"Are we there yet?"
"Pamela, don't let any of the kids out that door, OK?" "OK."
"Sit down, Indy."
"I think... I think it's high tide."

And then 3 or 4 broke out in song. I was quite impressed that they were able to manage the entire verse of On the twelfth day of Christmas, and they did an admirable cover of Boney-M's smash Christmas hit, Barr Rum Pum Pum Pum.

I thought to myself that I had my own little microcosm to observe: the movers, the shakers, the FLKs, the fringedwellers... they were all there. And at such a young age!

Did I mentioned I popped Lord of the Flies in my pocket the moment the first kiddie got on?