What's the view like from upstairs on the new 100-seater buses? (Picture: Lisa Ferguson)

At an upmarket do last week, I met a woman who fair loves a bus, which is just as well, since she works for Lothian Buses. She displayed just the right level of wide-eyed enthusiasm about her buses, as well she might. You’d travel far to find a finer fleet. You’ve got to love a woman who refers to the double-doored Enviro400XLB as “those bad boys”.

Now, I love them too, but I have a reservation, quite apart from the sticky question of how to say thank you to the driver.

You see, I have a favourite seat on the bus. Downstairs, right at the back, since you ask. Best seat in the house. I figure if anything kicks off, that’s the place to be.

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You get a ringside seat with great acoustics. I’ve lost count of the times when I’ve witnessed drama greater than anything funded by Creative Scotland.

Leaving Leith on a No 22, I once witnessed a chihuahua wolf down an entire Camembert cheese whilst its owner’s back was turned, pick a fight with an Afghan hound twice its size, then break wind loudly for ten solid minutes, and all before we got to Elm Row.

I tell ya, I’ve paid to see less entertaining shows at the Fringe.

So, as much as I like the new two-door buses, I’ve had to reconsider my seat choices. Just a bit too far from the action for my taste.

I tried moving slightly forward to the seats that face each other, only to find they have those dangly things that Londoners seem to like hanging from in the Underground system. They must have an official name, aside from Hingy Affy Handles, but danged if I know it. What I do know is that they aren’t designed for vertically challenged Scottish women. Travelling the Circle Line on one occasion, whilst hanging grimly from the Hingy Aff Handle, I found myself literally swinging through the air – like one of those angry chimpanzees Attenborough is forever noising up – as the train took a curve.

Lothian Buses have thought of this. They have fitted their Hingy Aff Handles above a raised bit of the floor, which means that I can reach them, but they are also perfectly placed to whack you one in the face, well, me.

Ms Lothian Buses looked at me sympathetically. Yes, she said, she’d miss her favourite seat on the bus, too. She was an upstairs sort of a gal with a penchant for halfway along. Ah, said the bloke standing next to us, but what about right at the front above the driver? Feels like you’re flying. No, no, said the incredibly posh lady to my left. The wee seat at the front, next to the door.

A young woman shook her head. She was with Ms Lothian Buses. Up the stairs, on the left going to work, on the right coming back. That way she could see have a sneaky shufti into folk’s flats. Come on, we’ve all done it.