the long and winding road ...
When I've been skint (mainly) or felt like an adventure (occasionally) I've taken the bus on long journeys. Listen up, people - it's neither big nor clever. Two tales, therefore, of bus related maladies.

1. Prague - London

I was coming to London at the end of one gig to visit some friends and couldn't really be bothered with the hassle associated with flying into Stansted so decided to save beer tokens and get the 19-hour bus journey instead. Mistake.

Left Prague at 4pm on the Saturday and - after multiple stops on the way to Calais - arrived in Calais at about 5am, where UK immigration hoicked all of the Roma off the bus (this is pre-04) and gave me a very suspicious look (what's a UK passport holder doing not flying?).

Finally got to London at 11am the next day and I spent most of the day in a daze of having had nooooooooooooooo sleep the night before.

2. Leeds - Amsterdam

Again, I'd finished a gig in Yorkshire and my next gig was going to be in the city of a shmoke and a red-light district but first needed to get out there and meet them in person.

Took a megabus (just say no, people) to London and from there a bus to Amsterdam leaving at 6pm, expected to Schipol airport at 10am. By 10pm we were on the motorway down to Dover when there was a God almighty bang followed by a rumbling noise - a tyre had burst.

Then, having finally gotten across the Channel, we stop 20 miles away from Amsterdam because the bus driver has to rest - a rest he wouldn't have needed had he checked out the vehicle properly / not burst a tyre. Eventually into Amsterdam four hours after I was due to get there.

Naturally, flew back.
(Eds Meds Mathskillz=1,Socialskillz=0, Mon 29 Jun 2009, 12:21, Reply)