You know that bit I wrote a little while back about the crazies coming out in the sun? Well, I was shown more evidence of this last week.

Taking busses home from a dinner in Canary Wharf I was lucky enough to disembark in Hackney and have my next bus arrive immediately. My thought of ‘what luck’ at not having to wait was soon dismissed.

I walked up to the upper deck of the bus and heard someone singing. At the top of the stairs I see a gent – approximately in his late 50s – serenading a very still woman in her 20s sitting across the aisle from him. He carried on singing and singing, changing songs at a rate of bus stops. After about four songs, he took a brief breather, apologised to the woman, whom very graciously responded ‘thank you’, but then he proceeded to start again. He kept leaning forward (I can’t help but think he was bearing the weight of some invisible organ grinder) and reaching over to the woman who looked like she had absolutely no idea what to do.

To my own shame – by this point I had already recorded some of this concert on my phone and was sending it to my sister, my friend and soon to Facebook. I couldn’t help myself. The woman had a lucky escape after a couple more stops and got off the bus after another elegant ‘thank you’. This was when our entertainer decided to turn his attention to the rest of us and proceeded to start walking up the aisle of the bus, and singing Danny Boy.

By now I could barely contain myself and again employed the faithful ‘stare into the phone’ tactic, and relaying the evening’s events to my sister via text. I had doubts about this man’s sanity – let alone his sobriety – and the gently waving arms and graceful swan like bows which peppered his performance increased my concern as he stood a seat away from me. The thought of having to ‘dance’ to get passed him as my stop approached also increased the dread and giggle factor. He thankfully walked by my seat and I got up to go to descend the stairs, unable to stop myself smiling.