Further Tales of an Old Bus Driver ...

One of my favourite routes as a driver was the 217 road out of Ponders End Garage that ran between Turnpike Lane Underground Station and Upshire, a 1960s housing development on the edge of Epping Forest and beyond Waltham Abbey. It was an enjoyable route because from a semi-rural setting it gradually became more urban the nearer Turnpike Lane became.

So there was my conductor and I sitting inside the bus at the outer end of the route waiting for our departure time, some ten minutes or so away. We were the only ones on board then my conductor had an idea which I agreed to. Jock, my crewmate and I swapped uniform jackets complete with appropriate PSV badges and I also donned his ticket machine, harness and cash bag then we sat down again and continued chatting inconsequentially.

Departure time - eight or nine individual passengers seated in the lower saloon where we were when I said "Jock, what's it like to drive one of these?"

"Easy" he said, "Why?"

"Don't suppose there's a chance that I could have a go? Nobody will know ..."

"We'll have to swap uniforms," Jock replied.

So that's what we did accompanied by odd looks from some of the passengers. A quick lesson from me how to use the ticket machine was followed by a reciprocal one about the controls in the driver's cab. I went round to the front of the bus and was helped into the cab and given a little more 'tuition'.

Ding, ding went the bell and of we went. At our destination we went into the staff canteen for a quick cuppa where Jock said that there was obvious concern by the passengers from some of remarks that he overheard. A few minutes later and we were away again on our happy way.

The following Friday morning at the garage and the garage manager wanted to us both, individually. My turn first, knocked on his office door and a gruff voice bellowed "Come." I entered, went to sit down and was promptly told "Driver, you do not sit down unless asked and even more so when you are in trouble."

My best air of injured innocence was adopted and said "Trouble guv? Me?"

Several sheets of paper were picked up from the manager's desk and quickly shuffled through, it appeared that there had been several public complaints about our little stunt, can't imagine why even now. My version of events was sought and given, after all it could not be denied. The guv's face was becoming redder, his breathing a little harder and his humour was certainly not improving when he leapt from his chair and shouted that he had never in all of his LT career heard of such a thing.

At this outburst I became just a tad worried wondering what the penalty might be for this prank. Ernie, for that was the governor's name, just as suddenly sat down again behind his desk. Clasping his hands he stared quite long and hard at me, then his expression relaxed a little. Drawing a deep breath he suddenly broke out into a great gale of laughter which took me by complete surprise as you may imagine.

"Driver," he said after regaining a little dignity, "Consider yourself well and truly bollocked. My report will say that you have received a verbal reprimand. Now get out of my office!"

Having muttered thanks I did as bid and retreated hastily, once outside I drew a great breath of relief.

Jock had a very similar interview with Ernie and the same outcome thankfully. We both retreated to the security of the staff canteen and our workmates for breakfast as well as a cuppa or two.

Just another eventful epîsode in the life of a London bus driver. Happy days ...