The vigil

Armed with a considerable amount of patience and his trusted bus pass, Diarmuid was determined to catch a 46A into Dun Laoghaire. 

He had missed too many of the bastards in his day. 
But he was wiser now. And more patient. 
He would not take his eyes off the road. 

Bend down to tie up your lace, and three of the fuckers would zoom pass in a thunder of diesel fumes and burned tires. 

But not today, Buddy, oh no, not today.

Diarmuid was going to get on a 46A and that was that.