Travel stories.

For the last few weeks a fellow member of the Italian class has given me and a friend a lift to Piccadilly station after the class is over. This means that my friend can catch an early train and that I am in with a chance of arriving at Oldham Mumps interchange in time for the 19.30 bus to Delph. It’s still a bit touch and go and mush depends on how speedily the tram from Manchester Victoria makes its way to Oldham Mumps. It only needs to held up for a couple of minutes somewhere along the route for the whole thing to go pear-shaped. However, for the last few weeks all has been well. Yesterday evening proved to be the end of my run of good luck. I got off the tram and could see my bus waiting at the bus stop. Now, there is always an outside chance that the bus will have to wait while the current driver is replaced by a new one. This always seems to happen when I have caught the bus in the town centre and would like to whizz straight through Mumps.

So last night I scuttled down from the tram platform and ran along the pavement towards the bus stop, not an easy thing to do with a small rucksack full of books on your back. When I was within yards of the stop the bus pulled away. I was a little peeved to say the least! As there was no other bus for another hour, I set off to the taxi rank and requested a ride home.

My taxi driver was a very chatty young Asian who told me he was fairly new to the job and asked if I could give him directions. He had never been to Delph before. Judging by his accent, I guessed he was an Oldham boy, born here rather than newly arrived. He confirmed this to be the case and told me where in the town he was brought up. So, I asked, which secondary school did he attend? The one where I started my teaching career. Small world syndrome strikes again! So we had a little chat about teachers we both knew - not many as I stopped working there when my son was born, but enough for a bit of reminiscence. So it goes!

My bus adventures continued. This morning I ran to Uppermill market. It is Wednesday after all. Having called in at various locations, I wanted to visit the fruit and veg man and the fish man before my bus arrived. The queues were huge at both stall. As I stood with onions and potatoes, and my eye on some baking apples, my bus showed up. So I dumped the veg and hopped on the bus. Discretion is the better part of getting home from the market! And besides, I was planning a trip to Oldham later. I had no bus problems on that excursion. Sometimes things work out right.

Things did not work out right for David Cameron’s bodyguard. According to this article he managed to leave his gun, his own passport and the former Prime Minister’s passport in the toilets. While I am a little concerned at the idea that our politicians need armed security men around them, and that it is possible for said armed security men to take their guns on board planes in our airports, I did find the story rather amusing.