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  • Sitting on the back of this bus, my head is pounding from the constant chittering clickering szring szring of languages I don't understand, nor recognise; the burrrrring of the windows and engine in this patient bus, so unlike its passengers, as we all silently curse the roadworks and the traffic and try to concentrate on our unsuccessful dreaming of somewhere else, which could have saved us, had it not been for the all-encompassing racket, the din of London in rush hour.

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