The last bus home....
Always a winner, especially when you're 17, and your boyfriend lives on one of the better council estates (this was 1983, they all had jobs and were looking to buy!)
It was a bit of an eye opener to a brave little Sparkie, country girl that she was.

Now there were a lot of people from the estate of Irish parentage, who loved a bit of a sing-song on the way home. I'd never heard smartly turned out old ladies singing about Dickie Didoes before this..

This one night, the bus pulled away slowly, and the old ladies started to fret. "Where's Iris?" "Maeve, MAEVE, where's Iris?.." "where the feck is she?" "I've not seen here since the Saracen's" etc etc. Til we all got a bit worried, Leicester at that time was no place for a mature lady on her own, after a sherry or two.

"THIS IS A RECORDED MESSAGE!!" boomed a voice approaching up the stairs, making everyone jump, not just the ladies "IRIS IS A RECORDED MESSAGE!!" said the voice, as a tall, red haired woman hoved into view.. "Sure, it's a great echo in this stairwell in't it?" said Iris, grinning...

Just then there were words of encouragement from the lads at the back, to one of their number who, it's got to be said, looked a bit, well, mauve..

"Hold in it Dean! Soon as you puke, you'll be at it all night!"

"Our stop's just up here, Keep going, not far now matey!"

I looked around just in time to see - and hear - Dean lose the fight with ten pints of Skol.

"God love him there's gallons of it!!" Observed Maeve

There then followed a weird Mexican wave of knees down the top deck of the bus, as revellers avoided getting recycled beer on their Saturday Night shoes by lifting their legs up rapidly, in turn. accompanied by random shouts and swearies.

We'd only gone 100 metres..
(Beer Elf Thought this was like a campfire, anyhow, on, Fri 26 Jun 2009, 14:38, Reply)