For me this was a new world. This service (run by Stagecoach) acknowledges that the majority of passengers will be pensioners and the bus interiors are designed accordingly. Travellers who are mobile are jammed into familiar cramped seats. Their elders not only have more knee-room but adjacent space to accommodate their shopping trolleys; some seats face the bus’s centreline and allow the ancients to drop into position rather than wriggle in awkwardly. Several of the grab-posts are curved to make access even easier.
No one else did the journey end-to-end as we did and almost no one paid cash. At Abergavenny, about half way, the bus virtually disgorged itself then took on more of the same. Some very ancient ancients shuffled in, travelled a couple of street-lengths, then shuffled off.
Had I been a Tory, firm in the belief that indigent oldsters should be punished for living too long, I’d have fulminated. But the route took in Welsh valley towns once populated by coal miners, now home to the unemployed and to those on benefits. Pontypool was a particularly poignant example. These middle-distance services are as much a form of social care as mere transportation. When I presented my pass to the scanner I made two or three errors of positioning. Patiently the driver instructed then re-instructed me; used to people of my age.
On the back of the seats were USB sockets for re-charging smartphones. Which I found cheering.
I wonder how much longer we will have that privilege under the Tory regime? Getting back onto my long walk down the Viking Wsy a couple of years ago I had to get the bus from Leeds to Wetherby and tried to use my bus pass, but was politely refused because it was before 9:30am.
ReplyDeleteOne of my proudest posts from March 2015:
Last Wednesday I had an eye appointment (dreary, boring) in Kendal involving drops thereby prohibiting driving.
I've lived in Arnside for nearly fifteen years now and I went to Kendal on the bus for the first time - quite an adventure.
Five minutes walk from home took me to the bus stop for the 9:35 and a chat with a neighbour who lives not far from me but we have never previously spoken. The bus arrived on time empty. I had to be instructed by the driver on the ritual of using my bus pass - he seemed quite resigned to dealing with yet another geriatric befuddled pensioner.
By the time we got to Milnthorpe (about three miles) the bus was full - full of greys, and there was a strong whiff of Vick camphor rub and mint humbugs, and a cacophony of chattery-chatter. I never saw a single person who paid. I got the impression that many of the passengers just came for the ride and the social occasion - it was all very period, like a scene from Dr. Finlay's Casebook. I felt a bit guilty, and possibly anachronistic sneaking a quick photo down the bus with my iPhone.
From Milnthorpe a left turn took us on a network of country roads only about a foot wider than the bus, and through tiny villages. The driver seemed to be up against a tight schedule scything along much faster than I do in the car, and the closeness to hedges, lampposts and walls on the lefthand side demonstrated astonishing skill; I wondered at our avoidance of major contact with anything other than twigs and branches. There were occasions when cars were met coming the other way, and it was invariably our driver who did the backing up showing another facet of his mastery of bus handling.
We landed in Kendal on time at 10.21 after 56 minutes exhilarating travelling time that would have been much longer due to caution if I had been driving my car. My direct route to Kendal would normally take about twenty minutes. I returned on the 12.45 docking back at 13:40, so it doesn't have to be an all day event as I had anticipated.
Would I do it again? Oh yes!
Sir Hugh: I would question two statements: "I got the impression that many of the passengers just came for the ride and the social occasion - it was all very period..." Period is what it wasn't; there were no bus passes in Dr Finlay's time and pensioners would have been stuck at home, unable to afford this modern diversion. Today's pensioners must of necessity treat the bus ride as the whole experience because most don't have sufficient money to be impulse-buying at the destination. I urge you to keep your eyes open at the supermarket check-out; pensioners (the sort we're writing about) never use credit cards and you see just how much they've spent. Reflect on that sum relative to the weekly amount they receive from the State and you'll realise how close to the bone their lives are financially.
ReplyDeleteYou say: "I never saw a single person who paid." I was more careful with: "... almost no one paid cash." I prefer to think that pensioners (all of us in fact) pre-paid for bus passes via the income tax we handed over during our working lives. I think it's kinder.
But never mind. You're entitled to be proud of your post. Our two bus rides turned out to be revelations, if for different reasons. The real stories behind the discriminatory headlines and the knee-jerk judgments about the indigent old. Quite a few of my short stories (soon to be published in a collection) deal with the old which is not surprising given my age. I was pleased to see some of my casual observations were re-confirmed. Note how many old men wear ties when they go out for the day. And other details.