Back around this time last year I wrote that Dublin Bus and decided to amalgamate the first and second early-morning buses, having just one running at a time half way between the two of them. I bemoaned the fact that this meant that there was no bus that would get the people of Greystones into Dublin before eight o’clock, that the new bus was always packed and that the people who run Dublin Bus were all-round bad eggs.
A young local councillor brought a petition around the new, later bus each morning asking for the early bus to be restored. We all signed it enthusiastically, then equally enthusiastically voted him into full office as a TD (our equivalent of a Member of Parliament) in the General Election earlier this year.
Another, younger councillor circulated another petition and again was rewarded with signatures on the petition and votes on the ballot paper.
Dublin Bus have caved. From Monday next our beloved, 15-minutes-earlier bus is being restored. Power to the people.
The problem is that I don’t want it any more.
I’ve got used to spending 15 minutes extra in bed each morning. I’ve got used to waking just before six and thinking “great, nearly half-an-hour to go” and snuggling deeper into my duvet cocoon instead of waking just before six and thinking “crap, only ten minutes to go” and lying there disgruntledly for nine minutes before falling asleep again just in time to be blasted awake by the eldritch (a word I’ve never gotten to use before) screech of the alarm clock.
I’ve learnt that our company does not fall apart if I’m not the one who opens up. I’ve learnt that I can still get more or less the same amount of work done during the day.
But on Monday next I’ll have to drag myself up early. We have to show Dublin Bus that we were right, that there is indeed a need for that earlier bus.
In every meaning of the phrase, we asked for it.