JEANIE ON THE BUS

Jeanie was on the bus. I'd bought, 'Warwick Road, single, thanks,' to the driver and sat next to her, on the edge of the seat my legs in the aisle, one of two bags on my lap.
Cabot Circus, just before the lampost with flowers and newspaper headlines for Troy, killed there a few days earlier, Jeanie was saying to an older couple, about her age by the looks, sat in front of her, 'This is the first time I've been here, I've not been here before, I don't like it.'
'I prefer how it was before.'
'Me too,' said Jeanie. 'We don't need all these shops here and people coming to spend their money instead of shopping local,' warming to her theme. 'You remember the shops in Armoury Square, Stapleton Road?' she said.
'By the pub?'
'Yes,' she said. 'Well I was telling someone about them the other day and they said there'd never been any shops there, so I said, “How long have you lived here?” and of course it wasn't long so I said, “If you don't know what you're talking about, Shut your mouth.”'
Both the woman and the man in front of me and Jeanie, laughed and I turned to Jeanie who looked at me and smiled.
Armoury Square, Jeanie got up to get off the bus and a woman from across the aisle, getting up said, 'You getting off here too?'
'How long have you lived here?' said Jeanie.