Saturday evening was a bit of a blast. We headed off late afternoon to Camden for a few drinks prior to taking in a concert performed at The Roundhouse by an old USA rocker group The Steve Miller Band. The evening itself was simply brilliant. Camden is a crazy part of London filled to overflowing on a Saturday evening with all kinds of weirdos and alternative lifestylers. We hunkered down at a Brazilain bar called Coco Bamboo and had a bird's eye view of all the Punk Mowhawk Brigade action at a seedy bar directly over the road called Barfly. Talk about some weird sights, it was brilliant, right down to the seventy year old punk adorned with probably the world's biggest Mowhawk. That guy wasn't about to be missed as his head gear was dyed dayglo purple.
The concert itself exceeded all expectations. These old dudes certainly knew how to wind up the audience.
All that aside, the highlight of the evening had to be the hour plus trip up from Pimlico to Camden on bus number 24.
Actually under normal circumstances the trip should have been a no brainer, with a quick tube trip however as luck would have it our local and only tube line (Victoria) was closed for the weekend to enable work to be carried out on the track , however Plan B should have been no problem as the No 24 bus runs directly from Pimlico, up through the central city via Trafalgar Square , then onto Camden, with a final destination of Hampstead Heath.
The one thing you have to be conscious of before you have your Oyster card scanned as you enter the bus is the fact that occasionally the bus will only travel as far as Victoria, then terminate.
With that knowledge in mind Julia waited until the buses metallic PA voice announced " 24 ......to...Hampstead Heath " , before she hit the electronic payment pad with her card. Then a second later the woman queuing behind us then leaned past me and said to the driver "is this bus actually going to Hampstead Heath " as it says on the front that its now terminating at Victoria.
The driver just looks at all of us through his hooded dead Jamaican eyes for maybe ten seconds then slowly says " the bus now terminates Victoria".
This woman then immediately says to the driver "well you shouldn't have the bus telling the passengers that it's still going to Hampstead Heath " then looking at Julia , says to the driver " you owe this woman a refund " . The driver thinks this new development over for a few seconds and decides the best course of action is to simply ignore all dialogue and with that he just stares forward and avoids all eye contact. Our new friend was not about to give up and says" look, you must give this woman a credit, it wasn't her fault" . Still no response .
Time to step up to the plate and with that decision made and in a very solid and threatening voice I look directly at the driver and tell him that I appreciate he is in no position to give my wife a £1.30 credit, however I am so impressed with his attempts to help us that having now noted his name, the bus number , and the specific location of where he has gone out of his way to help my wife, I intend to approach his employers so I can commend his actions to those higher up the tree.
Stalemate......actually it was Check Mate.
Nobody is moving. The driver can't close the doors .
Finally the driver blinks, and very , very slowly leans over to the Oyster pay pad where he proceeds to stick out a big black pudgy finger and press the 'credit last fare' button, and with that a paper credit for £1.30 is spat out of the machine.
As we exit the bus the woman behind us takes one last shot at the driver who by now has the look in his eyes of that of a potential killer and she says to him in an ironic tone " it's a miracle, you can in fact issue credits, .....just like any other bus driver."
The doors slam shut and the bus screams away from the stop at manic speed.
While we await the correct bus I'm chatting to the woman who advises us that todays communist /labour left protest around parliament is still going strong
and said that as our route took us directly through the path of the protest we should anticipate adding at least a further thirty minutes to our planned seventy minute trip. She was bang on with that estimate.Re. the protest itself, apparently the organisers (inclusive of some Labour MP's) used the day as a platform to call for a General Strike. Talk about wanting to drive your country to hell in a hand basket. You have to wonder? Anyway, the thought of some mid trip entertainment courtesy of the sight of drenched protesters sheltering under their placards outside parliament as dark descended and the rain pelted down, well that sight was going to be an attraction in itself.
Onwards, we and our new friend boarded the correct bus a minute on, trooped upstairs and grabbed seats on the right hand side so we could get uninterrupted views of all the action at Westminster.
However, drama was just around the corner at the very next stop and it came in the form of a stylishly dressed early middle aged business type woman.
The bus came to a halt and as she entered the bus I heard the woman ask/state (I'm not quite sure on that one) "is this bus going to Sloane Square. I have a prepaid ticket for Sloane Square."
I and our new friend could smell trouble brewing so we both started looking down at the scene of the action.
The bus driver patiently explained that this was the number 24 heading for Victoria, Trafalgar Square and points north. The bus she wanted was the 360 , which didn't depart from this stop however if she would exit the bus and head around the corner and stop at the next stop , then she would be in business.
Return Serve, the woman then says, " look I purchased this ticket on the basis I could travel to Sloane Square from this stop, I find your explanation unhelpful , and I certainly won't be walking in the rain to another bus stop"
So the driver says, "it is what it is, we are off to Victoria, you can either come along or get off the bus."
The woman then fairly explodes and says " I'm not leaving this bus. This bus is to go nowhere until I receive a full cash refund for my ticket . I am very angry etc etc"
Now at this point our new friend, who was obviously now running late, leaps out off her seat, flies down the stairs and yells at the woman " nether I nor the thirty people you are severely delaying give a dam about your problems. The driver can't refund in cash. Accept this reality and either sit down quietly or GET OFF THE BUS!"
We now play our minor role in this drama by way of a huge round of applause.
The bus driver then throws petrol right onto this fast burning bonfire when he closes the bus front door and starts to pull away from the curve.
That did it. The woman then starts yelling at the top of her voice about how she is going to sue everyone in sight and with that she starts booting the door.
You have to give it to the driver, he knew how to time the opening of the door with a well placed kick.
Both occurred at precisely the same moment and with that the woman unintentionally catapulted herself out onto the pavement.
Another round of applause, a couple of high fives and we are off (with speed) down Belgrave Road.
All the passengers on board are grinning and actually conversing with each other. This is indeed a momentous occasion.
There was one minor moment as we departed from the stop outside the Westminster Cathedral when a drunk attempted to run in through the front doors of the bus a nano second after they had closed. In the grand scheme of things this moment in time is hardly worth a mention, and I only commented on it because it's the first time I've ever seen a guy knock himself out cold when attempting to enter a bus .
I don't think the £1.30 charge for these trips is enough to cover this quality of street entertainment . I would have gladly forked out a fiver to take in all this action.
I'm really going to miss this city.The thought of walking through Hagley Park with just the dog as company doesn't quite cut it after all the action we have been exposed to over these last eight months.
Cheers
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