Elsie (1992)

Elsie sits down on one of the old-people’s seats at the front. She is only 55, but her feet hurt, and she’s buggered if she’s staggering down to the only other empty seat right at the back of the careering bus with three types of soft fruit and a meringue in her bag. She folds her fat arms across her chest and closes her eyes, but the smell of sweat on her clothes stops her falling alseep, so instead she reads the “No Standees Beyond This Point” notice, and for exactly the hundredth time in her life thinks “Standees” is a silly word.