The joys of travelling!

I have often been known to go on at some length about the failings of our local bus service. Infrequent. Unreliable. Expensive (for those who have to pay). I could go on and on. Yesterday, however, excelled itself in being a problem travel day. 

We had a number of things to sort out in the town centre and had thought about going in on Wednesday. When Wednesday came round, however, we both found other things to do, especially Phil, who was having a rather stressful week. Thursday was also a busy day, with too many commitments all round. Yesterday, finally, seemed like the day to sort out all this stuff that needed doing. So, after Phil had caught up with the Friday repeat of stuff he had missed on the radio on Thursday evening, we set out with the idea that we would catch the 2.27 bus. We missed it. 

We might have missed it anyway but there was an outside chance that we might have caught it had one of our number (not me, so it will be easy to work out who it was) decided to make sure there was a radio playing in the house when we went out. In justification I have to say that there has been a spate of burglaries in our area in recent weeks and so the need for security measures was high! So I set off for the bus stop, with Phil planning to run after me as soon as possible. As I reached the corner, the bus was at the stop. Had we been together, we might have made a run for it and, by dint of frantic arm waving, persuaded the driver to wait. But Phil was too far behind for this to be a viable option. In reality, we were always too late for that bus. 

So we returned home for a twenty minute wait, the necessary time for us to be able to be at the stop for the 2.57 bus. We left the house in plenty of time and made our way "hot foot" to the bus stop. Before we were anywhere near the crossroads, though, we saw the bus sail round the corner and disappear in the direction of Oldham town centre ... a good five minutes early. Two buses missed! We were not impressed but decided to make a virtue of necessity and walked around the village. At least we were getting some exercise out of our misadventure. 

As we completed the circuit and approached our house once more, I suggested that we might as well have another try and see if we could catch the 3.27 bus. Some might have given up but we were undaunted and, what's more, we were working on the "third time lucky" principle. And yes, we successfully caught the bus. Things seemed to be improving. 

Then we arrived at the Mumps Interchange, where there is often a change of driver. We had a change of driver. Our jolly lady driver got off and a young man got on. He fiddled around with the ticket machine and other gadgets in the cab before re-starting the engine. This took up several minutes. There was a kind of ping. The doors opened and closed. The engine revved for a while and stopped. More fiddling ensued and he started the engine once more. Another ping was heard. The doors opened and closed once more. A little more engine revving led to another total stop. The young man spoke to someone on his phone. Another driver got on and they had a little consultation. By now the passengers were beginning to comment. We could have walked almost to the stop where we wanted to alight by now. Some wag suggested asking the jolly lady driver to come back. After one more ping, opening and closing of doorstep revving of the engine and another stop, a consensus was reached: our bus was broken! 

We all got off and were thinking of walking the rest of the way into the centre when another bus, of a different number but still heading for the right place, turned up. Everyone trooped on, chatting with that kind of British camaraderie that comes of sharing a broken-bus experience! And so ended the bus saga. 

Eventually we achieved the objectives of our trip into town: visit to the bank, spare keys cut, new shoes for Phil and a few items bought from the supermarket. And then we had to organise the return trip!