The Tales We Keep Telling, 11: The Old Dudes on the No. 62 Bus

I frequently catch the no. 62 bus home from the pub of an evening. The no. 62 winds its way along the Byker Bridge and Shields Road before striking out north to Heaton, and the clientele covers a wide range of folks. At that time of the evening, though, there's usually a few older Geordie chaps returning home from the pub.

One evening, I was sitting behind three of them on the top floor, as the bus rounded the corner from Shields Road up towards Chillingham Road, past what is now the Lord Clyde pub, and was then called Peggy Sue's. This was about 11pm, and there was what the police would probably call a "domestic disturbance" taking place outside the pub.

The old dudes and I stared out of the window and watched, much like the pub's bouncer. They umm'd and ahh'd.

Old Dude 1: "She's not going to go home with him."

Old Dude 2: "Nope."

Old Dude 1: "Now she's going to hit him over the head with her shoe."

Old Dude 2: "Yup."

Old Dude 1: "That's what it's like round here on a Tuesday evening."

Old Dude 2: "Yup."

Old Dude 3: (with tone of solemn contemplation): "When you two eat a boiled egg..."

::pause::

"...do you have it with salt?"