Memory Lane

I took A Levels a year early. The results were fine for my plans but, urged on by my ambitious headmaster, I stayed on to become head boy and to take the Cambridge scholarship.

No offers of any kind were made. So in March 1957, at 18, I faced the prospect of pointless months at school. Why not leave now, I thought, find a job, make some money and relieve family finances?

So it was that I applied to become a bus conductor! Remember those? My entry test began with some mentalarithmetic tests: ‘They want two elevenpenny tickets and three sixpennies. They give you two half-crowns. How much change do they get?’

If you got that question right (1s 8d) and several others, you moved on to being shown how to operate the ticket machine. That was the model with a handle on the right, which wound tickets through to be torn off and handed to the passenger. All that went well. So I was asked to sign up to work shifts as required – from 5am ‘works runs’ to late-night pub-closing runs. I was to start ten days later.

I reported back to the headmaster, who was appalled: ‘But think of the honour of completing a year as head boy of this fine school!’

‘Ah, yes,’ I thought silently, ‘but think of the money!’

I donned my uniform, collected my ticket machine and began what turned out to be six months of extraordinary education.

The early-morning shifts were rewarding in many ways. They were always ‘works runs’ – almost all, in my bit of Nottinghamshire, ‘pit runs’. The colliers were a generous lot. Knowing they were much better off than me, quite a few of them would say, ‘Don’t bother wi’ a ticket, son. There’ll be no inspectors this early! Keep money for yersen!’

How could I refuse? Late-night runs had very few nasty drunks; more often well-oiled happy ones. I remember one who came down the stairs for his stop early, waved airily and said, ‘I’m paying for this lot!’

I don’t think he knew most of them, but I wound off about the right number of tickets. He gave me a note, said, ‘Keep the change, mate!’ and staggered away singing.

With mixed emotions, I left my work after six months of invaluable variety and life education – ready for supposedly higher education.