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Greetings!

'A gaping silken dragon,/Puffed by the wind, suffices us for God./We, not the City, are the Empire's soul:/A rotten tree lives only in its rind.'

Sunday 15 March 2015

Buses...

... and small worlds!

At the bottom of this webpage is a small list of my most favoured blogs by fellow enthusiasts for the miniature world. One of the enthusiasts is M S Foy, who has very kindly posted a marvellous photo of a Crosville double-decker bus of the type once driven by my late father from Crosville's now long-gone depot in West Kirby, on the Wirral. The fact that M S Foy (and his late cousin) was a bus aficianado in his youth, and toured the depots of Liverpool and the North-West of England is, for me, of 'it's a small world' interest, given that I was born in Liverpool (as were most of my forbears back to 1832), and, through my father's heroic bus driving adventures (more on this later) was also bus-friendly. But, when I saw that the bus model represents one that ran from Huyton, I was struck by small world syndrome of a greater potency, as that was where my father first ran a pub (as an ex-soldier should). But it became even more small worldish when the next bus (coach) on display represents one for North Berwick in East Lothian, Scotland, where my parents retired to and spent 20 years. But this was not enough small worldism, because the next bus is an Edinburgh no:16 to Oxgangs! Wait! For I spent four years as an undergraduate at Edinburgh University, then, a decade later six years as a cleaner and Open University tutor in Edinburgh, and spent many an hour on the fine, maroon chariots of Edinburgh.

So, in thanks, here a couple of coaches from my not-really-a-collection of public transport:





Finally, a tale of heroic bus driving...

One last run of the night - the midnight bus - my father and his conductor decided to take the empty double-decker back to the depot by a quick route, by-passing various stops so that they could knock-off work early. Hurtling through the empty streets, my father took a wrong turning and ran into a bridge that was a bit too low for the bus. He reversed, the conductor ran upstairs, and found that not only was the top deck caved in at the front, but there was a passenger up there, unhurt, but somewhat surprised. They drove her right back to her house, then parked the bus neatly at the depot. The next day when my father and the conductor turned up for work, the depot manager was hopping around, shouting, 'What have you done to the bus?!'. Being an old soldier, a Kingo, and a Scouser, my father feigned astonishment, and then exclaimed, 'See ! How many times have I said it? This depot's wide open, it's got no security! What do you expect? It'll be the local lads!'. And he got away with it. That was long, long ago. Crosville is no more, my father is no more, the depot is gone, and the bus long scrapped. But don't try it at home, children. There's CCTV now.

12 comments:

  1. Handsome models and fine memories - I love the story about the low bridge.

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    1. Yes, they are very tempting. I wonder if, being of the generations who were introduced to die cast at an early age, and to whom they were mainstays of toy life, whether they don't cast a particular 'collect me' spell over us?

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  2. Replies
    1. He was a boisterous man - full of life. Reckless too.

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  3. Wonderful coincidences. They do say that if you have one of something you have an ornament, get a second and you have a pair but get a third and you have a collection. Ergo you are now officially a collector of public transport!
    Best wishes, Brian

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    1. Yes, it's true, I will have to stop being in denial. I have others in the loft as well... sigh... it's no good...I have the gene.

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  4. Splendid picture and a wonderful story

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    1. He was lucky the passenger wasn't at the front...

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  5. I love these models and I loved the story about your dad, though you need to explain to this colonial what a "Kingo" is. When I was a young boy, and my father was with the Army in West Germany, my mom took me to London to visit some of her relatives. I remember that by late in the evening, when I was stuffed with sweets and cakes, mom and I got on a double decker bus to wherever we were staying. I insisted we sit on the top front, and got very motion sick. Shortly before we had to get off, I spewed violently and copiously all over the top front. My mom, rather like your dad, didn't say a word and rushed me off the bus at our stop. Never been on a double decker since, though government transit here in Ontario has just bought some new ones for its bus fleet.

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    1. Ah, it was clearly the sweets, not the double decker. Mind you, the old ones were pretty hard-sprung.
      Kingos - British Army nickname for the King's Regiment (Liverpool). Before they were named, they were the old 8th Foot, in which incarnation they had a role in the defence of Canada both in 1777 and in 1812. In fact, Canadian officers used to do duty with the King's at least until the 1950s. Sadly, they merged, but with another fine regiment, the Manchesters, to become the Manchester and Liverpool Kings. But, more recently, that regiment has been absorbed into a general Lancashire regiment called The Duke of Lancaster's Regiment. At the current rate, however, the British Army will probably end up as just two regiments anyway!

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    2. Thanks for that explanation. I know a lot of Canadians served with the British Army during WW2 in the CANLOAN program. These days, we are more likely to serve on exchanges with the Americans, who have become far more culturally and doctrinally similar to us than the British. I served with a British Army training unit for three years and the difference between our two militaries was chalk and cheese.

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