A few weeks ago, there was industrial action on some parts of the London Underground. In an effort to compensate for the limited public transport options on offer in my part of town, some old fashioned double decked buses were provided – the type that has a space provided at the back, for a bus conductor to stand still for a while, also allowing passengers to get on and off the bus at will. I took a short ride down memory lane on one of those buses and it reminded me of an incident I was involved in, many years ago.
I was on a bus heading for Highgate and the vehicle stopped at a junction. I took the opportunity to jump off the bus, but unfortunately, it started moving at the same time. I landed on one side of my face, managing to graze the skin near a cheek bone.
In a daze, I picked myself up as quickly as I could, bearing in mind that I was in the middle of the street. Moments later, I was surprised to discover that the bus driver had either reversed, or had driven back to the point where I fell, to find out if I was in need of help.
That sort of thing doesn’t happen nowadays, since all the buses are fitted with doors that open and shut (as the nursery rhyme goes…)
My recent trip went without hitch, but it felt quaint to be taken back in time, simply through going on a bus ride.