"Yeah so I got home and found a note saying summing like please eat the couscous I made specially at school."
"Cous cous?"
"Yeah. Cous cous. It's like rice, I think. Anyway, I tried a little bit and oh my days, it just tasted like dried egg. It's disgusting; I'm gonna have to scrape it in the bin and pretend I really liked it aren't I? I'll say, 'Oh! It was amazing!'"
They both laughed before a thoughtful pause.
"What if she looks in the bin?"
"Nah, she ain't that clever."
That was sad. It's simply not the way to talk about anyone, let alone your children.
Then there was another woman, taking her little boy to pre-school. He could have been four or five years old, perhaps even younger.
"No, leave it. You've broken it now, haven't you?" she barked. The boy looked at her miserably, as though a series of things had just happened that he didn't understand, but were all somehow still his fault. Surely bewildering your kids is just not going to help them.
She went back to her phone - the world in her pocket. I smiled at him, before remembering of course, that these days that kind of thing could get me into trouble. What a world.
She pinged the bell, the bus driver slowed down, and the brakes squealed.
"No, next one please!" she shouted forwards. The driver was hidden from view, but I imagined his face as the bus pulled back into the traffic.
Eventually, she got off at the right stop, the little boy shuffling his way down the aisle in front of her.
"Come on, come on, we haven't got all day!" she snapped. No older than five, I reckon he was - Sarcasm! I doubt children that young have any concept of sarcasm beyond its cruel tone.
They got off. The bus wound its way around the housing estate with me on it, gazing out of the window and thinking about the universe flashing by.
I'll probably never be a parent.
The rain streaked against the window and the bus rumbled on.
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