I caught the bus today to Newport. It was a very social occasion. I met up with two sets of elderly neighbours at the bus stop. They were taking advantage of their free bus passes to take a bus along the coast to a village pub for lunch. Everyone was in a jolly mood, the words 'weather'and 'lovely' were bandied about as if they were going out of fashion and even the bus driver smiled.

By the time we'd actually got onto the bus, smiles were beginning to get a little rigid. Despite F being asked by his wife 3 times if he had his bus pass - and having taken it out of his wallet 3 times to prove to Doubting Doris that he had remembered it - by the time he got on the bus he had inexplicably lost it. He managed to retrieve it just in time to prevent a group of belligerent pensioners at the back breaking into a chorus of 'Why are we waiting?".

Then it was my turn to have a toddler tantrum. The bus company insists of using a fleet of very ancient double-decker buses in West Wight. This makes the most straight-forward journey exciting as it is the most rural part of the island. All too often, the bus has to brake hard on the narrow roads when it meets an oncoming car because overhead trees either bang into the top deck front windows or force the bus into the middle of the road. And when it is windy, the ride is more hair-raising than a rollercoaster, since it hugs the edge of the cliffs a few feet from the edge. It can be vertigo-inducing. But the views along the coast and into people's gardens are fab and I always head for the front seats on the top deck.

But today, two holiday makers - a couple - had nabbed the seats on both sides. She evidently needed a seat per buttock. So I had to sit in the second row, muttering curses on their holiday. And this wasn't nice, because they were a really happy couple, enjoying their holiday hugely. On the 40 minute journey, they pointed out every church (4), every pub (5), every thatch cottage (100s) and Carisbrooke Castle (1) to each other, not to mention a flock of geese, two newly born calves, a flock of lambs, a strange-looking couple riding a tandem, a quaint tea room (plus speculation about whether it would serve a cream tea that was worth getting off the bus for) and still managed to fit in a running commentary of how every pothole proved that the island roads were far worse than the roads from whence they came.

And the thing that really puzzles me is after listening to all of this, why did I feel so guilty when my Man rang me on my mobile phone (which I answered whilst it was still on vibrate) and then felt compelled to whisper in case I disturbed anybody?

Maybe you have to be on holiday, on the school bus or elderly and deaf to shake off the British preoccupation with being quiet and reserved when on public transport.