172. 8pm. Bottom deck, back row on the right.
The man sitting across from me was hunched over a book. He had on a black jacket, black peaked cap and tinted sunglasses, against which dark background the sky-blue cover of the book really stood out. Its title, presented in enormous gold type, was Who Is God?. It looked fairly engrossing.
Suddenly the man stopped reading and started glancing around the bus. He seemed anxious, as if the book had just told him that God was someone on this bus. I tried to silently convey to him that I wasn’t Him by looking as human as possible – but this may not have reassured him much. [cue Joan Osborne]