Yesterday I went to the supermarket, the small Tesco in Greenfield. I walked to the crossroads to catch a bus.
There are two possibilities, depending on the time of day: the standard 350 bus which goes from Oldham bus station to Ashton bus station by a fairly long and convoluted route and the 356 bus which makes the same journey by an even longer and even more convoluted route, taking in a fair number of the Saddleworth villages on its way. The first can be a single-decker or a double-decker bus amazingly manoeuvring its way round tight corners and past inconveniently parked cars. The second is really only a mini-bus. It came into being as a commuter bus, doing a limited route between Greenfield railway station and Denshaw village, via Uppermill centre and Diggle village. It was timed to coincide with the train service to and from Manchester as this was pre-Covid, in the days when lots of people still travelled daily into Manchester centre to work. During lockdown it disappeared. Post-covid it returned in a new form, travelling between Ashton and Oldham bus stations, via every out of the way housing estate and small village. I think it still goes past the railway station but it no longer coincides with train times and, in any case, there seem to be fewer commuter trains than previously. But it’s still a mini-bus and some of the drivers, but not all, make a point of getting to know regular passengers in out-of-the-way places and will make “request” stops between bus-stops, as close as possible to the homes of some of the elderly passengers - a kind of community bus service.
Anyway, I went to cross roads, saw a 350 make its way up into the village, where it would turn around and come back down the road maybe five minutes later, all being well, assuming no breakdowns or inconveniently parked vehicles on the turn around point. There was also a 356 waiting. I checked with the driver to see of he was setting off any time soon. Almost immediately - they were just swopping drivers. So I got on board. The end-of-shift driver jumped back onto the bus at the last moment declaring, “Forgot my wipes!” Then off he went again, into the industrial estate where he presumably had his own car parked.
The start-of-shift driver set off and then stopped on the cross roads, reversed up the main road, stopped his bus and told me and the only passenger at that point that he had forgotten something and needed to go back to his car. He would only be a couple of minutes. And indeed, a couple of minutes later he was back declaring, “Forgot my wipes!”. He then proceeded to antiseptic-wipe the steering wheel, the gear stick, the dashboard, almost the whole of the driver’s cab! I had never seen this before. Presumably it’s a sort of post-Covid hang-over activity. Maybe it’s a new directive from management, as both these drivers were equipped with packets of anti-septic wipes and neither was quite in the habit of remembering them. But surely, if it was to be effective, then the going-off-shift driver should have done the cleaning.
In the meantime, I was sitting there while the driver did his housework, wondering if I should not have got off and returned to the bus stop to catch the 350 on its way down from the village. Too late! There it was, going through the crossroads, in its full yellow Bee Bus Service (Mayor Andy Burnham’s initiative) glory.
Spring cleaning over, we set off. The 356 bus manoeuvres past the numerous parked cars on the steep road up to Dobcross village centre, where there is a bus stop on the square. There the only other passenger alighted. There was an old gentleman at the stop, leaning on the wall, clearly trying to get himself moving, with little success. I warned the driver that I was getting off to help him - I didn’t want my driver to set off with my small rucksack and without me. With a bit of assistance the old gent got his legs working and managed to get onto the bus.
Showing his bus pass, he told the driver he was going to Tesco and asked if the driver would stop opposite the steps up to Tesco, a hundred yards or so before the actual bus stop. Our driver was puzzled. I told him I would indicate where to stop when we got there.
During the short journey the old gent told me a good deal of his recent medical history - heart attack a couple of years ago, recovery, various ailments, an invalid wife, wonky knees, a bossy daughter who today was not available to take him shopping, feeling trapped in the house for weeks, feeling the need to go out and buy a few essentials. 87, he finally told me, was his age. He was all right once he got moving, he assured me, the difficulty was getting started. Goodness!
As we approached the supermarket I once again asked the driver to stop opposite the steps. There was a convenient stopping place, just under the cherry blossom tree. “But the stop is just down there”, said the driver, totally missing the point of making life easier for the old gent. This was clearly not one of the community-minded drivers!
So I helped the old gent off the bus, took his arm to cross the road and walk to the steps up to the supermarket, and found him a trolley to lean on for support as he did his bits of shopping. He was organising a taxi to take him home later. He thanked me profusely, we agreed that we all need to look out for each other. He said he was glad to have found a “young lady” to help him out. And we went our separate ways.
It’s a good job I caught that bus - my good deed for the day!
Life goes on. Stay safe and well, everyone!
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