I’ve just been on the bus.

I’m not a frequent traveller on the “Number 59, Lime Line” – circumstances of my life only; my city has an award-winning bus-service of which it can be proud.

A few seconds into the journey, an announcer’s voice came through the very sophisticated tannoy system (this bus has green neon lighting, cameras, and an electronic map) . . .

“Welcome on board the lime line, travelling into the city.”

How nice. I felt special.

And then, the best bit . . .

“The next stop is . . .”

At frequent intervals, loud and clear, telling me exactly where I was on my journey. (Though it did distract me just a tad from my multitasking – never a moment missed eh? Aside from listening to my wonderful travelling companion (anonymous behind a screen and a loudspeaker) I was writing a shopping list, texting my daughter, and trying desperately to listen to the conversation of the couple who were off to play bingo.)

But then I thought . . . oh, wouldn’t it be wonderful to have someone, or something, similar to be there to support me at key stages on my journey through life (not just when on the bus, as important as that is).

“The next stop is . . . you will now make the right choice about your education which will enable you to step on the first rung of your career ladder.”

“The next stop is . . . you will now make that commitment in your personal life that you’ve been prevaricating over.”

“The next stop is . . . today you will make a decision on whether you’re going to stay, or resign and move on.”

“The next stop is . . . today, you’re going to start doing what you love doing.”

Ah, if only.

Ding ding, next stop.