‘Meridith Lane,
return!’
WHAT?? I thought. I don't remember seeing THAT name!! I stalled.
‘How
much is that?’ I faltered.
‘You’re
the conductor.
You tell me!’
I
consulted my all-knowing smart card.
I
couldn’t find a Meredith Lane
– much less a Meredith Lane Return!
‘You’ll
have to give me a clue?’ I begged.
He
was unmoved.
‘Twenty
pence?’ .. I delivered this squeak in a cowed and
chastened voice.
It was roughly the
average fare I’d read during that half-hour.
‘TWENTY
PENCE!!’ he roared,
seeking support for his indignation from the
impassive passengers. Not one
stirred.
‘All
right. Ten pence to you …’ I mumbled, in a whisper.
I’d
been searching hurriedly - and suddenly I came upon a Meredith Lane.
‘NO! Fifteen pence. Look! I’ve found it!’ and I showed him
the card.
I
was so relieved I was laughing like a child.
‘But
that’s from Margate. Not from here!’ he insisted.
‘But
we’re in Margate!’ I insisted triumphantly!
Suddenly
the impassive passengers came alive. They were smiling, some laughing, some elbowing their neighbours to
listen to the mad Irishman.
I’d
simply forgotten that as the bus moved, I’d have to adjust my interpretation of
the dumb card in my left hand.
An easy
mistake to make, I felt. Why all the
laughter?
Some smart card this! I thought.
‘So
where are we now?’ I whispered, in a begging tone.
‘You
don’t know WHERE YOU ARE??
You’re
in charge of this bus and you don’t know WHERE YOU ARE??’
I
ignored him and turned to a seated female passenger.
‘Excuse
me, madam. Please could you tell me
where I am?’
She
shrunk back against the window as if burnt with a hot poker.
‘Please
don’t touch me!’ she begged, her hands raised in self-protection!
‘You’re
… you’re .. on this bus!’ she cried!
As if THAT was an answer!
To
make matters worse, this particular bus continually described a circuitous
route so that by the time I’d got used to being in Ramsgate, I was back in Margate.
There
was nothing else for it.
I
decided that ALL passengers on this bus travelled free of charge the whole first day.