For context, I'm a middle-aged man who lives on the outskirts of Parvlin, a small English

village.

My house is the only one on a long winding country road, but it does have a bus stop. From my bedroom window I can see it on the other side of the

road. It's quite handy, really. I never really missed the morning bus to work. I know the

schedule off by heart. That's why I was bewildered when I first noticed the 317 a.m. bus on Saturday, the 14th of October.

It broke me up actually. I'm a light sleeper. I sat upright in my bed. I twisted my body around,

propped myself up on my knees, and gingerly inched the curtains open. The old lamp post on my road illuminated an ominous fully gray non-branded single-decker bus.

There was no interior lighting. I couldn't see a driver or any passengers.

Now this was obviously bizarre. Buses don't show up at that time in the morning, not in this country.

Not any town or city that I know anyway.

Still, I assumed, as any person would, the time... not any town or city that I know anyway.

Still, I assumed, as any person would, that times were changing.

It seemed like a good idea.

A bus for those who've missed the last train home after a night out, perhaps.

That still didn't exactly make sense because very few people use my bus stop.

It's a 10 minute walk from here to anywhere. I checked the schedule.

Nothing.

There was a bus at 11 p.m. on Friday evening and there shouldn't have been another one until

6.05 a.m. on Saturday morning. I watched the vehicle pull away and considered perhaps that it wasn't a public bus.

Maybe it was a hired coach. It seemed like a reasonable explanation. I put it out of my mind and I went back to sleep.

However, it returned the next morning and it continued to do so for weeks.

Again, I checked the schedule, still no mention of a 3.17 a.m. bus. I called

...