Tales of a an old London Bus Driver

Way back, well in the late 60s anyway, I achieved one of my childhood dreams and became a real London bus driver. Oh what dizzy heights of attainment!

This is not going to be a diary of events and boring trivia but hopefully setting out some of my exploits, believe me there was quite a lot of fun to be had ...

Picture a warm, Sunday spring afternoon on the outskirts of London, well Stanmore really. Perched atop quite a long hill outside Stanmore lies the Royal Orthopaedic Hospital in an almost countrylike setting served by just one bus route from a connection Edgware Underground station.

Perhaps a little insight into the way things worked, or not, at Ponders End Garage where I was working at the time may help. Inevitably from the garage fleet some buses were in better condition than others having benefited from fairly recent complete overhauls, whilst others were wheezing and rattling their way to being refurbished. Those that were almost due for overhaul were scheduled on 'short working', i.e. routes that ran past the garage every thirty minutes or so which meant that in the event of a breakdown the mechanics did not have too far to travel.

With a 56 passengers and 5 standing picked up in Edgware we were heading towards the hospital atop Brockley Hill. Already there were doubts that this particular was in the best of health having struggled up the other side of the hill towards Edgware, it was only too evident that a 'short working' vehicle had been wrongly allocated that day. Brockley Hill is about a mile long, starting gently, steepening towards the top and about a third of the way up first gear was already being used creeping upwards at little more than walking pace. Just over halfway up and the poor old thing could go no further and just ground to a halt. The conductor agreed that he would ask those that were able to finish their journey to the hospital on foot. Whilst waiting for the start bell most foot passengers began passing the front of the bus carrying seat cushions! Ding, ding. The ailing bus moved off slowly not able to get out of first gear and struggled and wheezed its way to the bus lay-by outside the hospital gates, finally arriving in clouds of steam from the engine.

Meanwhile passengers were breathlessly arriving, having walked about half a mile, some carrying seats with them. While the conductor was replacing the seats onto the bus water was needed for the radiator. After prolonged searching a watering can and convenient tap was found to assuage the poor beasts thirst. Enquiries to the conductor revealed that he asked passengers to walk to the top of the hill and that would those capable of carrying seat cushions to please do so. The explanation offered for this tactic was to make the vehicle even lighter and thus ease the way to the summit!

Fast forward from Sunday to the next Friday at the garage. Friday was always a day busy at any London Transport bus garage because it was pay day. It was also the day that the garage union rep was available, the social club organising raffles etc and for defaulters to be interviewed by the garage manager. Following a pay packet instruction I ventured into the governor's office to be told that public complaints had been lodged by sundry passengers from the previous Sunday and several accounts narrated by him. Having agreed that was probably a true account of events it just remained for a signature to be made in the staff record that a verbal warning had been received.

Possibly more to follow ...