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Midnight Express

The Edinburgh Festivals are quite a different experience now that I'm not living in the middle of Edinburgh. It used to be a short bus ride or walk home after an evening show. But these days if we miss the last train, it's an epic journey on the 1AM bus. It's an eclectic mix of screeching hens, football revellers and middle-aged Girls Night Out-ers, with the odd posh couple hiding beneath the wife's pashmina as they wonder whose idea it was to leave the car at home. The air is thick with beer breath and nobody seems to know each other, but drunkeness unites. It's all belching, farts and bellowed banter. LADY 1:  Can you stop the bus please, driver! This lady is gonnae be sick! LADY 2:  Dinnae worry, hen! I'll be sick in ma handbag. LADY 1:  Dinnae worry, driver! She's gonnae be sick in her handbag! LADY 2:  [BLUUURRK] LADY 1:  Lucky you had that handbag because I wouldnae be cleaning up your sick. I'll clean up piss, but I hate cleaning up sick. BLOKE:  Oh that's good coz I'm totally burstin'. When we finally got off the bus we had to jump right over the stairs and onto the footpath, because some lady had spewed all over them.

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About Shauna Reid

Ahoy there! I’m an author, copywriter and old school blogger. I love telling stories about life and helping my clients to tell theirs. Find out more about me and how we can work together.


15 thoughts on “Midnight Express

  1. Brilliant, Shauna, bloody brilliant.

    I mean yid hae mare fun at a Glesgae stabbin’ than an Embra weddin’ like, but fare goes tae ya hen.

    Sorry couldn’t resist.

  2. So here I am in Edinburgh again, I am eating my weeties after running up the mound ( snigger) and am confronted with YOUR photo from your alternate hidden blog.
    My God woman – you are a multi-media megastar of sorts… When is the Radio Show, Pod cast etc etc etc coming.

  3. Shauny!!! Oh. My. God.

    I had tae read that one out loud to Lorraine. She guffawed!!!! Oh. My. God. That were absotootly hysterical girl!

    We know of which you speak. Here in NY, when we want tae go into Manhattan, we must leave the car at home and ride the infamous Long Island Railroad.

    The ride home is a similar mish-mosh of drunken characters, though with none of the ‘bonding’ your local bus-ride seems to encourage.

    You are a HOOT.

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