Unofficial Christ's Hospital Forum

Thank you Mary! Love the Evening Standard!

I was wrong. There are going to be conductors!

I loved reading letters below the article too. One letter predicts the renewed fitness of Londoners - gained through that blissfully perilous activity of jumping on and off the bus whilst moving.... foreign visitors arriving just to have a go at it....

However, a rather prim sounding correspondent supposes that the windows will still steam up. Honestly! All part of the experience, innit. The evening bus roars along in the dark - the windows are steamy - you can't see where you are - will you end up at Oxford Circus or Crystal Palace?

("Sorry, my darlin', you should've caught the bus on the other side of the road!")

It doesn't look anything like the one recommended by The Hamster

What is it that roareth thus?
Can it be a ..........................

xx

Either I'm getting old, or I just left London too long ago, because I still think of the old routemasters as being new - what happened to the RT buses? In Plumstead, the buses struggled to get up the hill with a full load of passengers. On one occasion we had to back down and try again, so the driver could take a run at a particularly steep bit.

Angela Woodford wrote:Thank you Mary! Love the Evening Standard!

I was wrong. There are going to be conductors!

Conductors! conductors? After equal rights and edicashun 'n orl that palaver can anyone speak Cockney any more? How many even understand that type of slang? They won't be PROPER conductors, luv, just mind my words. Wot is Lunnon cumming 2?

Angela Woodford wrote:I loved reading letters below the article too. One letter predicts the renewed fitness of Londoners - gained through that blissfully perilous activity of jumping on and off the bus whilst moving.... foreign visitors arriving just to have a go at it....

However, a rather prim sounding correspondent supposes that the windows will still steam up. Honestly! All part of the experience, innit.

The evening bus roars along in the dark - the windows are steamy - you can't see where you are - will you end up at Oxford Circus or Crystal Palace?

Not a hope in that pea-souper even if the windows were clean

Angela Woodford wrote:("Sorry, my darlin', you should've caught the bus on the other side of the road!")

Pea souper? I'm sure they don't happen any more!

In fact, the last incapacitating fog that I remember was the Smog of (I think?) 1963. I'm ashamed to say that I loved it. It was really exciting groping our way to and from school - hot soup, on returning home as a reward for not getting lost forever in the Smog! However I now guiltily think - how dreadful for some. I believe the all-time Greatest of Smogs was in 1952

ANYTHING is better than those bl00dy bendi-buses !.

MKM wrote:Either I'm getting old, or I just left London too long ago, because I still think of the old routemasters as being new - what happened to the RT buses? In Plumstead, the buses struggled to get up the hill with a full load of passengers. On one occasion we had to back down and try again, so the driver could take a run at a particularly steep bit.

Yes I remember the 192 bus in particular struggling to climb the hills around Woolwich and Plumstead.

The trolley buses were great good fun, especially when they became detached from the overhead lines. A brilliant excuse for being late for work.!!

My husband started his new job last week and is now going to work via the Central LIne to Holborn. On Friday I wondered where he had got to and at about 7.50 I got a phone call from Liverpool Street. "LIVERPOOL STREET!" quoth I, "what are you doing at Liverpool Street?" Silly b****r had a couple pints, turned right instead of left (or vice versa) and got on the first train to come along. Stood up to get off at Oxford Circus and discovered he was at Liverpool Street.

englishangel wrote:My husband started his new job last week and is now going to work via the Central LIne to Holborn. On Friday I wondered where he had got to and at about 7.50 I got a phone call from Liverpool Street. "LIVERPOOL STREET!" quoth I, "what are you doing at Liverpool Street?" Silly ****** had a couple pints, turned right instead of left (or vice versa) and got on the first train to come along. Stood up to get off at Oxford Circus and discovered he was at Liverpool Street.

Who else will admit "Bin there, done that"?
My excuse is that each time I was stone cold sober but suffering usually from a ghoster so I fell asleep as soon as I got in the train - from Liverpool Street. (For youngsters a ghoster is working a full day, then the night and following up with the next working day. Happened far too frequently for my liking)
For your husband's info, Mary, there are many very good pubs only a few steps stagger from Liverpool Street; indeed there is/was one right on top of it.

He has got to the age where all he wanted after two pints was the Gents.

sejintenej wrote:Who else will admit "Bin there, done that"?
.

I regularly used to fall asleep on the Circle Line, wake up, and just keep going round (hoping that I didn't fall back to sleep and go past Victoria again. Was it Victoria? I think so, to swop to the Brixton line).

Am I going mad, or just misunderstanding the situation? My husband, a diabetic, injects twice a day. The needle thingy, which I understand is called a sharp, then goes into a container to be collected for disposal. For some reason the last time 'they' replaced the container with a huge 5 litre thing which is far too big for his requirements, and we realised after some time that it didn't have the usual label on it showing the phone number to arrange collection. So for months we have had this huge unsightly thing sitting on the floor in the corner of the living room. It became full, indeed overflowing, until one day I accidentally jammed the lid shut.Meanhile I nagged 'himself' to find out who to phone to arrange disposal, but he kept forgetting and started dropping his sharps into an open plastic bowl on top of the box. Finally yesterday he produced the relevant phone number and I rang it - it turned out to be Environmental Services at the local council; when somebody rang this morning to notify me that they would collect tomorrow, I thought it might be wise to warn them that we had a full 5-litre box which was jammed shut, and ask if we could go back to a 1 litre box which would at least fit on a shelf out of reach of small children. Instant response 'Then we can't collect it. It would be dangerous for our driver. If he stabs himself you would be liable'. An altercation ensued in which I pointed out that it would also be dangerous then for our visiting grandchildren! She then suggested that they could leave an even bigger container (22 litre) and we would have to transfer the contents, but their driver could not wait while we do it because they have a lot of other calls to make. So I had to agree to that. Only after I had put the phone down did I realise that it is impossible to prise the lid off the 5-litre container, so how can it be a danger to the driver? (At no point had I mentioned the bowlful of loose sharps which we will simply tip into the new 1 litre container). So tomorrow we shall be presented with a 22 litre container as well, I hope, as the one litre one! My instinct is to try to give the jammed 5-litre box to the driver, since it is clearly 'safe'. If he refuses to take it then I shall immediately drop it into the 22 litre box and give it straight back to him. Then I shall quietly tip the bowlful into the new small box and put it on a shelf and make d**n sure that in future my husband organises his own more regular collections! Am I being 'thick' or is this another example of Elfin Safety gone mad? I do not see how a box which is locked shut can be a danger to anyone, except me if I am forced to prise it open to transfer the contents!

Sorry, rant over!!

I wonder that you have remained fairly calm! I would have gone nuts.