The Love of my life - who wasn't in the Butty Bus.
So, there we were, looking out the steamed up windows of my little car as the rain lashed down – as it had done all day. I could see my English visitors were impressed at the wetness of it all. I told them the Clisham Mtn was under that big grey cloud, the views would have been lovely had we able to see them, Luskentyre beach was the best in, in, possibly the best in or should I say on Harris and that the fact that the galleries and cafes were all closed, was not because it was Sunday – it wasn’t but because it is a special time of year when only special people bother to visit. We needed a cuppa all the same and I remembered the Butty Bus in Obbe. Dashing over to the equally steamed up bus through the wet from the car, we found a lone figure sat supping his tea. “Bit damp out there I ventured”. To which the little human nodded sagely. “ Just showing my English chums here round the place – they have never been before.” The man looked at me with a weary eye, glanced over to Butty Bus man urging him silently to deliver the ordered eggy sandwich – quickly.
“Hang on” I thought out loud ”you’re John Maher, the former Buzzcockian”. I might have included the current drag car engine maker, pixel-peeker and night walker – but I didn’t. Or at least I don’t think I did – tis all a blur now. The little man looked at me with his head leaned to one side looking again for the eggy butty – which actually turned out to contain tomato as well – and in a bun, then retorted “and you must be Wiesmier”. I stood back [well, back as far as you can in a little bus on the side of a harbour in the
Outer Hebrides with the rain lashing down outside] amazed. “I am as it happens but you can call me Andrea – since that is my name – Wiesmier being merely a nom de prune" [or whatever it is]. Mr Maher explained to my bemused English chums we both take snaps with cameras, both post them on Flickr but have never met. Goodness knows how Mr Maher knew me since the other rare snaps of me to ever appear online are both blurry and / or odd! Still, I played along with the new-found chumminess introducing the lovely Jane and Rodney – Jane who used to be the same cycling club as myself and the Rodney I used to work with at the Manchester Velodrome. “Manchester Velodrome? Did you say Manchester Velodrome?” All of a sudden Mr Maher became really animated. “I love cycling, follow the tour de france and everything and I’ve just been reading Mark Cavendish’s book - you are not THE Rod Ellingworth that Cavendish talks about are you?” . "The very same as it happens” the Rodney one replied “Been coaching Cav since he was 17” he added with his typical cheeky grin. All of a sudden our loose bond became closer, coffee’s ordered, and seats warmed up by bottoms three. And photos snapped up too. Mr Maher Sir was questioning Rodney to an inch of his life about the life with Cav and the boys of the Sky cycling team. Then I chirruped in. “Hgmmm.” I coughed trying to get a little attention – Jane looking on as ever, the resigned but accommodating creature she is – also working for the Sky cycling team and having heard this sort of thing a hundred times before. “Hgmmm, I’m in Cav’s book as well’ I said rather less meekly than perhaps I should. The day was made.