THE VINTAGE COACH SETS OFF TO BRIDPORT MARKET….
Luckily Pash was still propped up against the railings where I had left her earlier albeit now complete with a few scatterings of seagull splatter! I was dithering for a while deciding on where the safest place to put my prized Art Deco plates would be…satchel or basket? I was beginning to air towards the basket option purely because since I had acquired my beautiful red Vintage Pashley bike I had yet to put anything other than flowers in it. However, there was the slight problem of my wobbling and so I decided to wander along the promenade and grab an ice cream whilst attempting to make a final decision.
Oh yes, I could just imagine walking along this promenade in 1950, dressed as I am now, swirling a parasol in one hand with a divine young male specimen holding my other. Hey, I was not even perturbed by the stares and glares of Saturday holiday makers, trundling along the promenade with their buckets and spades, faces red from the mid day sun (yes they were undoubtably all English).
“Christ almighty, who does she ‘fink she is!”
“She got enuf war paint on ‘er, matches that contraption shes pushing”, were various comments of the nicer variety I was hearing as I eventually got my double scooped Vanilla ice cream and plonked my self down on the pebbles. Wish I had not bothered to wear these frigging hold ups I thought to myself, this blasted Summer weather, you just could not dress for an occasion, they are going to have to come off. As I surreptitiously tried to pull off the stockings and roll them up to put in my satchel I heard a very loud up and downy voice shouting his odds:
“Bridport market, come and get your tickets, Vintage bus ride ladies and gents, £2.50 return”, there was a slight pause and off he went on repeat again.
Ummm now there was a thought, I could probably get Pash on there ok if the bus driver was in a good mood and that would save me cycling back the way I came and possibly dodging anymore rain that was expected later on.
“Excuse me”, I shouted after the loud voice who was departing from me at quite a speed.
“Can I bring my bike with me?”, the bus driver stopped and removed his hat as I approached him pushing Pash.
” Well you can try love, I ‘aint promising ’nuffing but as long as no one complains I can’t see a problem, follow me” and there we had the beginnings of a wonderful relationship…now you know I’m telling a little white lie don’t you?
So, I was not perturbed when I approached the delightful yellow vintage bus and noted the sign saying ‘BOURNEMOUTH PIER’
Oh me, oh my, you just don’t want to know the half of it….do you?
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