THE IMAGE IS ONLY FOR THE TYPE OF BUS AND NO INFERENCE SHOULD BE MADE ABOUT THIS COACH COMPANY
We hadn't been married that long and basically we were seriously broke, but this never stopped us going on holiday. We were catching on to the fact that as property owners we could lump it all onto to the mortgage, everyone was doing it. In actual fact we went more places when we were in debt than we do now and we don't owe a bean to anyone!
We decided that we fancied a holiday in the south of France, France the home of cheap booze and Christmas holidays. So we opted for the cheapest holiday and booked a coach trip. Armed with our travellers cheques of we went on very dull morning to Middlesbrough Bus station. We were taken there by a longstanding colleague and friend, he had actually been the first person I had gone out on patrol with in York as a Police Cadet.
Having successfully arrived at the coach park we quickly found our stop. No coach, but there were other expectant travellers awaiting its arrival and more importantly the best seats. Doesn't matter whether its a plane,train or bus there is a professional army of voyagers who are very adapt at bagging the best spot for their derrier, ruthless and determined.
We entered the smoke filled cafe with a view to buying a cup of tea but this was pointless because there's another group that always materialise and thats the undecided at the cafe group. Huddled together usually in groups of three or four and one of those is the hen pecked rements of their husband. If not them it is the complusory screaming brat who is charging around while their ineffective parents issue an equally ineffective warning of possible physical abuse if they don't stop.
Now the first group, whom I came across on a P&O ferry just recently, ignore signs like 'this food containes nuts' and this is 'gluten' free still go on to explain to the cabin staff that Cyril 'hasn't been able to eat nuts since his 1965 holiday in Blackpool; it brings him out in an awful rash, so would the Chef cook him something special, interspersed with an argument about what year it actually was and what was it that set off this digestive malaise.
Having secured the dish of their choice, they tun their attention to the gravy and "Is it gluten free?" This brings about another tale of woe from the 60's. Then to cap it all they decide against their original choice and pick something up thats ready prepared. This isn't the end of it because they wobble up to the cash desk and ask if they take Euros and of course the cabin staff say yes, only to be paid in Sterling after ejecting several bits of 'monae' alover the desk. By this time suicide beckons as one realises that the former hot dish you selected has turned into yesterdays leftovers.
So, choking, we awaited the bus.
Eventually,a head stuck itself round the door "Anyone 'ere for never again travel" ?
Everyone chuckled and, in our ignorance, so did we.
By this time the seasoned French Pilgrims were squeezing onto the bus as were their oversized cases, eventually we managed to get on.
Now I'm 6'1" and there was no way I was going to fit in the remaining seat despite the protestations of the courier advising 'shuffle in'. I couldn't have shuffled in with a shoe horn. Indignant and staring at me through her over made up face she marched me to the back of the near to the one and only toilet. Yes its toilet time again! 1 chemical toilet 60 odd passengers being plied with overpriced coffee and a 19 hour projected journey. If I thought the seat was bad it had nothing on the toilet. It had about as much space as a London tube at rush hour. Stood up one could only manage a pee by contorting your body and rest your face against the mirror. No chance of a poo, I would have had to opened the door and stuck my legs out.
Another problem being those in dire need from thetop deck were queueing on the bottom deck almost continually thereby preventing those who equally desperate on the bottom deck from securing their place in the bog grotto. Soon gone were the pleasantries of fellow travellers and in its place came a lot of huffing and puffing and jabbing of elbows. I only manage to avoid this situation by jumping in when two combants created an impasse.
Everyone was crammed on suitcases as well and the crew mounted the driver and his stand in an the stewardess. The driver who was popping out of his ill fitting almost white shirt with his tie tip coming to halt on the crest of his tummy which must be as a result of many a good night somewhere.
The stewardess started a head count and of course we were not all present and correct which lead to a hasty recount and much paper shuffling on her overloaded clip board.
The driver shrugged his shoulders and lit up and lead to a period of awkward conversations and a lot of looking at watches. Deadlines came and went which began to get somewhat annoying and disappointing at the same time. The bus sprung into readiness and thick diesel smoke enveloped the car park. However, out of the gloom like contestants on 'Stars in your eyes' the errant passengers emerged, coughing choking and looking a bit distressed. Towing behind them a case which was put a maximum load onto the now bent metal chassis resulting in a wobble which threatened to unbalance their bolt across the car park. "Tonight Matthew I'm going to be that bastard that always holds everyone else up!"
Having been successfully crammed into the already overloaded interior because there was as much 'hand luggage' in the bus as there was in the hold. And personally I'm fed up with these people who complain that they were charged extra for what they jokingly call 'hand luggage' and then argue the toss that "No one told them" I get a great deal of satisfaction in seeing these travelling holiday wreckers getting short thrift from a girl a third of their age!
Off we chugged, or at least the bus did, which signaled the stewardess to 'welcome' everyone and name the two drivers who in the space of 10 minutes had broken one or two bits of Public Service Vehicle legislation not least the chain smoking driver. Also pointing out that the drivers were on a low wage and the plastic cup was for tips. Then came the itinerary we would be doing this stop and that stop because the drivers had to comply with the drivers law, why this particular law I don't know because so far they were not showing much interest in the rest of the psv rules. Then came the drinks trolley Max pacs on wheels to be exact and totally overpriced 70p each!
Eventually after weaving our way through the various estates of Middlesbrough, Stockton and elsewhere we stopped at a roadside cafe. The usual pecking order materialized those who sprint off the bus at all costs to get to the front of the queue because the bus had stopped at a Cafe that was too small and too understaffed it was obvious that the drivers were probably rewarded for bringing their passengers to this image of the 1960's. Hogging the counter the driver and his mate spent their time occupying the overworked staff only broken by an obvious attempt to 'chat up' the hostess. So we abandoned all hope of getting anything and the time constraints prevented us from dashing off to the Little Chef a few hundred yards up the road. However some of the more determined made their bid for escape to the empty cafe.
We turned our attention to our toiletry needs but this shack only had one functioning toilet and all access to it was blocked by desperate travellers. Going back onto the bus was not an option. The shine of our first holiday abroad was wearing thin.
After the allotted period the driver and co made their way back to the bus, but we decided that we would use the toilet no matter what and when we returned to the bus, the drivers mate mumbled something about Ferry Times, I chose not to reply and we made our way back to the seats under the gaze of accusing eyes. However, we were not the last as the distressed head count reveal and in the distance we could see the contestants who had sprung into some sort of action when they had obviously seen the blue smoke of the bus. Have you ever noticed that people like these with walking sticks never are synchronized with their walking and results in a Rolf Harris "I'm Jake the peg............" type of movement and the stick just becomes another obstacle to forward movement. A type of stop and hop. Arriving slightly out of breath the drivers mate was perfectly clear in what he said about the Ferry and everyone heard. Which didn't help because it only spurred the lumbering wife into a response as her husband withdrew his head into his open neck shirt.
19 Hours was the predicted time of our journey and I honestly thought that 12 of it would be in the UK. We wound our way through every back water until we got onto the A1 southbound carriageway where we managed to achieve an average speed above 12 mph.
The rest of the journey and ferry, which provided a great deal of relief, was uneventful.
As we approached France the announcement came that all passengers should return to their vehicles. The streams of the masses bundled their way down the stairs and onto the coach we got. And yes the 'head count' once again revealed that the veteran delayers were not on the coach. But they did arrive just in time to avoid being stranded on the 'Pride of Dover'
Paris beckoned and we arrived, apparently ahead of time which created a problem for the change over of drivers. It wasn't a simple case of one replacing another. No our driver was going back to the UK and we were to collect another driver from another coach on its way back up however we were an hour or two ahead of shedule suprisingly.
So they decided to go along the Chansalese in Paris to see the Eiffel Tower and announced their decision with glee like some unexpected Christmas present. However, things were about to take a turn for the worse because they decided to make a turn! Failing to read the height warning which flashed by they headed for one of those now famous tunnels. There was a sickening crunch and sound of breaking perspex and then another, the bus had almost made it underneath but the raise roof windows had been sacrificed. This had caused much distress and screaming as the bus forced its way to the end. The now flustered relief driver ran back and retrieved the panels dodging little white French cars and mopeds who readily blew their horns.
There was an eary silence from upstairs as our Hostess made her way to the top deck to check for casualties. There were no physical injuries but the people sat at the very front were in a state of numbed shock, the ride on the big splash had nothing on the sight of the parpit of spray painted bridge looming up at eye level. I suppose it was the discovery that their heads were still attached and the relief of survival that tempered their response.
The bus now with three open ports in the roof, giving a perfect view of the light polluted sky which obstructed a star filled night, limped its way to the rendezvous point. A frantic conference took place between the staff took place. It was obvious that they were selecting the person who should make the call back to base. The relief driver lost and he made his way to the lonley phone box in the middle of the space. After a brief struggle with the folding door he sweezed his large frame into the box, the openining and closing, well partial closing, of the door caused the understrength light to flicker on and off. He was punching the numbers in and then started again and this happened several times until he obviously made a connection to base. There was a fair bit of arm raising and body movement as he explained the situation, but with the light coming on and off it look like someones Dad at a wedding trying to impress with a drunken jig. The call finished and he arrived back at the bus, clearly under some pressure the group had another emergency meeting.
After which they decided to carry out some repairs and they found black plastic and yards of brown sticky tape and set about the repairs from the inside which were completed about 2 hours later. But this had an effect on the relay from the North of France to the South. The drivers needed to swap crews at certain fixed places and the next place was Lyon. Now the bandaged bus hobbled along at a much reduced speed due to the stress placed on the temporary repairs which under the pressure of the wind were very noisy and did nothing to steady the nerves of the traumatised passengers. But another unforseen problem was arising 'chattering' the chattering of teeth because those passengers on the top deck were largely unprepared for sub zero tempratures. The bus was barely adequately heated in any event prior to the instant making of three sun roofs. So dressed in short sleeved patterned shirts and cotton dresses was not protecting them from the elements
. Even the offer of more coffee at a post collision price was reduced 55p was not going to be sufficient. Emergency clothing was salvaged from the bulky hand luggage and like true Brits under seige they share their megre possessions with fellow passengers. Eventually shock and fatigue overwhelmed them and sleep was upon them. As was the case with most of the people down stairs.
However, I was not happy and when I felt the bus swaying for a moment I thought we were back on the Ferry. But no, it was 3 am in the morning and our driver was on a toll road and he was watching television. He had turned the screen so he could see it but he had to crank his neck to get a full view. So like someone sticking their head round a building to see if the coast is clear every so often he flicked his head round to obtain a better view and the bus followed!
A short while later I saw his head starting to rock, we've all seen it the movement made when someone is fighting sleep and the spine turns to jelly between the shoulders and head. The head rolls round snapping the person temporarily back into the real world. We had changed seats during the repair process and I was right behind him so I knocked his seat several times and this brought about some protest but it prevented his slipping into slumber and a French Moat which seem to line all their roads. Then he lit his upteenth fag of the day. And he contionued in a straight line peering into the half night and the dawn which promised a hot day. Which was good news for the upstairs passengers who were in an advanced state of criogentics.
We pulled into a roadside cafe which had a service station which allowed the crew to effect more repairs. But our stay was limited due to the accident. We chose some cereal but for some reason the French do not have cold milk with their cereal which is issue caked in chocolate. The staff busily point at 'lait chaud' and by the time we had paid it was time to leave. However, by this tiny pockets of rebellion were forming, two's and groups deciding to challenge the authority of the Junta by remaining until they had attended to their toiletry needs. Many warming up and consuming several warm drinks because the Max pac drinks on the bus had long since run out during the night as people used them more to keep their hands warm than as a drink. A very alarmed Hostess returned when she realised that there were gaps in the seating. Reluctant groups who were easily identified as the upper deck passengers snailed their way back to the coach draped in makeshift warm coats belonging to others either smaller or larger than themselves tied into place with blankets. Some wearing those two pronged woolen hats belonging to loved ones who back in the cold North East of England had argued so strongly about bringing 'nana's present' ( nana had since passed) and the wearer was in danger of an early reuinion saved only by the foresight and hysterics of their child. Clinging to their possessions the NAT refugess braced themselves for the continued Artic tempratures.
However, the reverse was true as our journey towards Lyon continued. Heat quickly developed in the upper compartment and those who had just beaten then cold were now shedding clothes like a fat snake. Bundles of clothes were crammed into overhead holds which during the journey lead to little avanlaches of woolens and topped off with 'Nana's present'.
But this wasn't the only reason for the temprature to increase within the compartment, apart from a distant science lesson in my mind 'heat rises' . There was the 'Greenhouse Effect' long before it was associated with melting the polar icecaps, it was melting the passengers on NAT Holidays number 53. The hasty repairs carried out after the 'Paris Incident' (which again was very close to another 'Paris Incident' in 1997 )had sealed the air vents and prevented a circulation and the rise in temprature resulted in a Rain Forest type atmosphere wet damp and very sticky. It was further aggravated by the drivers refusal to operate the air conditioning because of its effect on fuel consumption. But never to miss a bargain the expired coffee stocks was replaced by bottled water at an equally inflated price.
We sweated our way to Lyon, where the next driver took over.
The two buses syncronized their positions in the car park and I saw large amounts of Booze and Cigarettes being put onto the bus which was returning to the UK, how I pitied those blank red and brown faces pressed up against the glass. Expressionlest, and somewhat bizzare in some cases where their sunglasses had protected their eyes but also the surrounding skin and gave them a look of wearing goggles. But there was a similar look of pity on their faces.
I knew I wasn't going to get on with the clean shirted fat slob who took over, replacing the TV watcher who was somewhat smaller than this Cholestoral Bank. His first action was to complain that there wasn't enough room as he rammed the seat back which only just stopped in time before my tortured knees. His clothing separated and we were treated to a view of hairy sunburnt skin that had all the appearance of Wild Boar!
The bus sprung into action and had each heave of the power assisted wheel this man 'farted' and it stunk. Sorry but thats the only way to described these obnoxious emissions. Only broken by a changeover from a non alflicted driver very shortly into the resumed journey. But our relief was short lived as the blob returned to complete the last part of the journey and promptly resumed his unfettered anal air expulsion. My wife and I were becoming quite distressed and my assurances that we'd 'soon be there' was not reassuring her that escape was forthcoming. Then he really let another part of his excesses from the previous night out. So despite his appearance of 'Giant Haystack' with a haircut action had to be taken. I leant forward and through squiggy piggy eyes filled with contempt looked back at me. I asked him if this flatulence was really necessary and he might be best stopping and going to the toilet at the earliest opportunity and until then could he restrain his bowel 'movements. Afterall this wasn't his living room! He looked hurt and delved back into his childhood to his defence 'he had to'But the frequency definitely reduced.
Finally we approached the Mediterrean and signs were everywhere.
Now even today my French isn't brilliant but even I knew we we going round in circles and more importantly words like 'haut' and 'pont'. However, the Hostess asked if anyone had been to Antibes before. I explained that I had seen several signs prior to this one and that he should consider turning around unless he wanted the top seat passengers to relive their Paris experience. To which I was told that 'I wasn't funny' But when I drew his attention to the sign and the the hole looming up which was patently too small I said ' I think they've been through enough don't you?' The bus turned off and with the aid of my wife we instructed the driver to turn right, turn left and tout doit until he recognised his destination.
We arrived and people spilled out onto the dusty carpark.
Then almost immediately there was the sound of sirens all around and streaks of dust rose like those from the film Lawrence of Arabia when they raided Akabar and in the background I heard the crack of a gun being fired!
We were later to learn that a French National Crime Squad had tracked a bank robber to our camp and he had been wounded in an exchange of fire.
We were sheperded to the rendezvous point by our new holiday reps who were armed with clip boards and dressed in blue coats with the holiday firm logo splattered over it. The pecking order soon established itself as people huddled up to her trying to gain favour with their new leader and they hung onto every word. We were (all of us) invited to a Hello meeting the following morning at some building. This is where companies ambush the unsuspecting into spending several pounds on a day trip to a Vineyard or local attraction when one could just as easily catch a bus for much less or indeed as we have done on other trips hire a car, but not on this one. These meetings are good for identifying interesting places to visit so we would attend this time.
However, at this moment in time we were more concerned with our tented accommodation which was flimsy as were the two duvets and totally inadequate. When the first 'orage' fell upon us, the temprature dropped dramatically.
We search for the rep. we named her 'The Comet' her name was Hally and she only came round once every 70 years! But she lost interest in us when she realised that we were not taking up on their overinflated day trips.
Later on we went to the 'Sports Bar' where we met and sat and had a drink with the Police Men, who were in uniform, and they told us about the earlier incident. Apparently, there is a Police squad that roams the country searching for the most wanted people and apparently the 'most wanted' people head for Cannes. The luckless criminal had been traced from Paris and had been wounded in the leg when he offered resistance. We had several drinks and they left.
We sat for a while not paying much attention to the group that was congregating around the pool table in the corner of the small poorly lit complex. But it became obvious that all was not well, the barmaid was fidgiting and there was occasional shouts and grunts which were followed by laughter. However, we continued, primarily we were oblivious that their attention and antics were directed at us and secondly the group comprised of young small fat youths.
Then the podgiest specimen stood at the end of the pool table and we were aware that items were now landing either side of us and then we realised that they were becoming more hostile. But we decided to continuw with our drink and by this time I had just enough to subdue any thoughts of being chased off and in actual fact I was on the point of going over to him. Then his backing group formed up behind him and they looked like a poor impersitination of one of those Motown groups. Although they weren't afro caribean by birth it was their wide open white shirts revealing black bushy hair and jackets along with tight curly hair that created the image.
However, my wife decided that we should leave and for a long moment I considered the options wishing that our previous drinking guests would return, but no. So we left without incident and never went back to that part of the complex again.
But fuelled up with several litres of bierre blonde which I had unseuccessfully asked for in French when we arrived, only to discover that the French Barmaid was not French but from Peebles area of Glasgow! We went off to a more populated bar now knowing that the staff understood 'lager' However I did not feel drunk! Then I decided to go for another, but without any sort of recolection instead of standing up, someone stole my legs and I found myself sat in a bemused state on the floor! In the middle of a very busy bar but people just walked around me as if I wasn't there. However, my wife was rendered helpless as she laughed at my predicament.
I managed to regain control of my under carriage and had another drink and then we returned to our tent. It was largley awful and provided no protection so we squeezed into the bag together to survive the reduced temprature.
The following day we successfully managed to secure more bedding from the reluctant Hally who looked somewhat rough after her previous nights excesses. They weren't happy with us for not signing up for the trips.
We had the previous night discovered the rail link from Antibes to Monaco and for a euro a stop you could get anywhere and if you were really lucky one could travel for days without the need of a ticket if you avoided the rush hour.
Now the Rich and Famous own Cannes and the beaches but if you.re lucky one can find a gap between the plage privet and we did but it was rocky. So under pressure I bought a plastic inflatable sunlounger a li lo. 4feet long I blew it up. However we discovered a problem and that was I couldn't deflate it! ( 10 years after the holiday I found the inflated li lo in my loft!) Jumping on trains I kept my better half 4 feet away from me throughout our stay and I had to peer over it to speak with anyone. It took up another place and made rude noises if brushed up against. Which was quite humerous when the debutants squeezed by and it made the 'noise' which mometarily broke there perfect facial image. If I wasn't careful I could nudge people off the train a stop or two early. However it did stop the passengers from pushing us around. Everywhere like a plastic friends I had this bum saver under my arm and it used to get tangled up with umbrellas and rushing across roads wasn't an option.
There were some pretty weird passengers on that train! Some with 1970's suits that hadn't been taken off by the wearer since then. Hair matted and filthy with their American Accent they looked like some failed 'ambulance chaser' Two sat opposite us and one leant forward his matted hair pushed back revealing several layers of broken scabby skin that was long passed being dandruff, he looked and said 'hey you smoke the same cigarrrettes my friend' to my wife. Turning and wiping several passengers with my rubber inflatable I looked for a way out but we were trapped and the li lo was our last line of defence from the human health hazard. His friend had the appearance of the Hells Angel from the last scene of Electra Glide in Blue. I suppose originally they were drawn to the area on the off chance of making a fortune. Plus they probably, as many were and are, mistaken in the belief that France is a cheap place to live.
However, we managed to squeak our way off at the wrong stop and managed to squak back onto the next one franc train for the last leg of our journey and ironically we were obliged to buy a ticket. Had we waited on more stop with our former friends we would have avoided payment.
On one of our non li lo days we decided to go to Monaco and Veronica wanted to go to the famous casino much to my horror. I felt totally outclassed as I saw the French high and mighty sweeping past imaculatly dressed doorstaff. Bathed in precison lighting we approached and I bottled it! But Veronica didn't and approached the biggest of the doormen as I read or attempted to read the panneau. She came back laughing again she had only tried gate crashing a Government meeting. All thoughts of instant cash diminished as we retreated to the slot machines. Then we made our way back to the train and only just managed, again thanks to Veronica, located our train en quay 13. On board there were some American sailors and two of them were huge and very abusive.
Then I saw the ticket Inspector who was small and skinny and totally lost in his oversized uniform and his cap looked like something from a Russian Police man. I thought he was doomed as he approached the rowdy mariners. No, the French are very good at not displaying their emotions and looking like a pine tree on the side of a mountain the guard stood his ground as Mighty Jo from the Illinois looked down. There was a definite tension but he gave way and produced his ticket and two others had to pay up! I was totally shocked. We managed to get back to Antibes just in time for drinks but this was delayed when our 5 franc note was refused because it was a forgery. And this was another case of Veronica swinging into action! Back to the ralway station where she confronted the bar staff and demanded that the girl who gave us the note exchange it but her initial je ne compron pas went nowhere and she yielded and refunded our note.
The smell of overheated urine coming from the inappropraitely positioned toilets and that of tomato pizza will be lasting memories of our stay. Every night the initially impressive dough thrower braving his ultra hot wood fire commenced his act of producing the thinnest crusted pizza coupled with a scattering of veg overpowered with garlic and tomato sprang into action.
Washed down with a litre or so of lager.
Our guide had long since given up on us for continuing to avoid the over priced trips. But what she didn't know. We were on a fixed budget and had it not been for the one franc train our first exploration of France as a couple may only have extended to the car park!
In the last week a Scottish man just like Rab C Nessbit and his bedraggled offspring emerged in the bar area. He was foul mouthed individual which put end to me watching the programme.
Every night he was warned by staff as he became drunker and his thin neglected wife became more nervous as he swore and made lude remarks to the bar staff. I thought well at least we won't have to put up with him on the return journey. Wrong! He drank his way through his cheap booze which lead to an ugly scene halfway up the A1 when he realised the rest of his journey was going to be alcohol free! and a cup of hot chocolate was not going to make it.e
Never again did we take such a trip which was topped off when we had to ring our lift up at 1 am in the morning because he had forgotten the correct date! This was only after we'd spent several hours of 'he'll be here in a moment'.............
