There's nothing I look forward to more than getting the 55 bus every morning. Running from Leyton Bakers Arms to Oxford Circus. The joy of being jam-packed between all the delightful charcters who reside in Hackney. Usually miss the first bus if you believe the led electronic display and try to make it to the next stop. It takes about 20 minutes to board the bus because NOBODY in Hackney EVER has credit on their oyster. Occasionally you get a renegade driver that makes it down Hackney road within 30 minutes. I like to play 'guess how many prams we can fit on today' and watch the larger ladies struggle to get down the stairs at the mecca bingo stop. Its about this time that my ipod battery dies, but luckily the crazy guy smoking crack down the back keeps everyone entertained with his solo sing-a-long or abuse. I try to ignore the soundclash of the rudeboys playing grime on their phones and girls with bad weaves playing Mariah. Instead I focus my attention on the spiky neon potato art that confuses the german tourists who have booked into the days hotel because they think it's actually in Shoreditch. Finally reach the Old Street roundabout and try to dive through the doors before the sadistic driver tries to trap you in them. At least you get to admire the pecision of the jet black bobs on their way to the Dazed offices and Soho and the hot boys with no socks that get on at London Fields.