Waiting for the 201

You haven't been playing at Underbank Reservoir again have you?

Der Busfahrplan ist eine Lüge.

There’s a climbing wall I might have a go at. Swimming is discouraged on pain of death via cold water and undertow. I’ve never seen a fish, but the angling folk sit round glumly all day under wide black or green umbrellas, like figures in a Francis Bacon mural. The old heron that returns every year looks increasingly bedraggled. I think I’m becoming a limnologist by default.

I’ll work that into my bus stop small talk, thanks.