Waiting..

There are two digital timers on the bus stop at Sliema ferries.  The function of these things is to count down the minutes until the next bus arrives.  Very hi-tech.  7 minutes.  5 minutes.  3 minutes. 1 minute.  Until finally, the ‘Due’ signal flashes up.  This is to indicate that the bus is ‘due’ to arrive, or at least I guess that this was the manufacturers’ original intention.

Nothing happens for a minute or two.  We gaze expectantly towards the oncoming traffic.  We look back at the timer.  The road again.  And then the clock deletes this bare-faced untruth, as though embarrassed, and moves onto the next potential arrival.  7 minutes.  5 minutes.  3 minutes.  And so it goes on.


After an hour of silently fuming in the sun, I walk over to the adjacent stop, where a man wearing a Hi-Vis yellow Arriva jacket and holding a clipboard is shouting something at all the drivers as they arrive.  He is clearly a man of some importance.  I must say that had I been waiting for a bus to Valletta or even Paradise Bay, I would have been well on my way by this stage, such were the hordes of buses going in those directions.  I was going to neither.  Anyway, I hoped that this gentleman would have some idea about when we might expect a bus.

 – “What’s going on with the X2 and 202?”, I ask, (dispensing with small talk on this occasion).
 – “Late mate, both late”,  he says, looking at his clipboard to underline the point.
 – “Any idea when they’re due?  I’ve been waiting here since 8.45”
 – “Not a f**king clue, mate.  No idea.  She was 45 minutes late”.  He waves the clipboard in the direction of the harried-looking female driver who is pulling away from the stop.
 – “I was supposed to be in work at 9 o’clock!” I say.  Is there a plaintive tone entering my voice?  If so, it has no effect.
 – “They’re all late!  Look at the roads!”

I look at the roads, although I have been looking at precious little else for the past hour.  Traffic is down to one lane at Sliema; in fact I have had the good fortune to watch them slowly close the other half over the course of the previous 30 minutes.  It’s not stopping all the other buses, but I forbear from pointing this out.

I walk back to the huddle of elderly Maltese and baffled tourists, who are clutching Arriva schedules and staring at the timer as though unwilling to accept the evidence of their eyes.  The timer states – shamelessly –  that the 202 is ‘Due’.


(The X2 arrived at 10.05am.  Followed directly by a 202 and another X2, as though  joined together by invisible string).  

*Suggestion for new Arriva slogan to replace the incomprehensible current favourite “Get your moves on”, which makes about as much sense as their website. 

Let’s keep it simple with:”They’re all f**king late. Look at the roads!”.  




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