In the early hours of Thursday morning, my bus broke down. Fortunately, I'd just alighted for the thirty metre walk from the bus stop to my front door. It didn't occur to me to take a picture until the impressive smoke was pretty much gone, replaced by the smell of burning oil.
I was already home, but the rest of the passengers had to get off, and presumably wait for the next one in fifteen minutes. What was the small mercy for them? Well, it could have broken down in Acton instead.
