Further Tales of an Old Bus Driver

Just picture, if you will, Camden High Road in North West London on a dreary, grey, damp autumn day at around mid-day. Heading towards Waltham Cross from Warren Street, near the Post Office Tower, the driver began slowing to stop at a temporary bus stop. Temporary that is because the normal stop was out of use due to deep sewer works alongside the pavement and was situated some thirty yards beyond the normal one, just outside Marks & Spencer.

So, the bus wasedtraveling at about 15mph and just passing the out of use stop the driver checks the nearside mirror only to see a figure leap from the rear platform. Nothing unusual in that because passengers like the older type buses with a conductor and open platform because they can hop on and off at will, albeit a somewhat dangerous practice. Presumably the escapee thought that the bus was not going to stop and took what he probably considered appropriate action. Unfortunately there was an intervening trench some two feet in width and about six feet deep between the bus and the pavement delineated by the usual assortment of bollards, cones and rails and the hapless chap disappeared from view in a downwards direction in the mirror.

A few seconds later the bus halted at the temporary stop with the driver just a little concerned if not annoyed because due to that idiot's actions it would mean filling in an accident form back at the garage. Said driver descended from the cab, walked to the rear of the bus finding the conductor in a state of helpless laughter with tears rolling down his face. Turning to the muddy trench with some six inches of water in the bottom he saw this bedraggled, muddy figure endeavouring to climb from the hole, he was almost unrecognisable as a well dressed, middle class gent, because that is what he turned out to be.

By this time a small crowd had gathered, amidst laughter there was the inevitable gratuitous advice, none of which seemed to be appreciated by the hapless ex-passenger. Suddenly, like the Red Sea parting a gap appeared in the crowd and an authoritarian voice enquired as to what the denizen of the trench was doing and was he alright. The reply from the depths was neither polite nor complimentary making some of the female onlookers just a little embarrassed. The voice said that he would return in a few seconds, true to his word the policeman came back bearing a short ladder which lowered to the side of the trench. The victim of his own misfortune climbed the ladder and gained the relative safety of the pavement, refusing to give any details to either the constable or conductor. He was last seen heading somewhat unsteadily and with a slight squelch towards Chalk Farm Road.

The final insult that poor chap suffered was, having been asked by the conductor to wait until the bus stopped and choosing to ignore well meant advice, was for the guardian of the platform to suggest that this may have been the last occasion on which he might tell a conductor to "fork off"!

Might there be a further tale soon?