Dear LPG readers,

I suspect many of my fellow readers take the bus more readily when they go out, and while I am still able, I use my valuable freedom pass.    

The other day, I found myself waiting again at the bus stop at the end of my street, which usually has a bit of a wait. This provoked me to spend a little time pondering the structure and all its contemporaries.  

Any regular bus passenger will know those relatively close shopping destinations on the main roads where nearly every bus will take you, and waiting is not too much of an issue, but as we get older. Our legs place shorter time limits on how long we can stand and wait for our bus to come without the onset of a painful knee or leg taking over, an issue which other than the swift arrival of the next bus, can soon become our primary concern. 

 Then, the following essential amenity that a bus stop has to offer kicks in.  Once we have checked that there is a bus coming, either by using the app on your mobile phone (if you have one and are clever enough), (or by cricking your neck while you check that lighted box of information which many of the stops have under the roof these days), as we get older, perhaps the most critical aspect of waiting becomes that red bench-like shelter seat.  Let’s face it: they look relatively uncomfortable, and if there is only space on the higher one, successful balancing can be challenging.   

As you get older, it doesn’t matter if your shopping trolley is full or empty; the uncomfortable way that you end up having to walk with one hand permanently lagging and attached to its handle dictates a whole new learning curve when it comes to successful walking, and that becomes infinitely more complicated if you happen to need a walking stick in the other.   

The weather is another variable which makes a difference. If there is one, the canopy and the advert wall will provide some shelter when the wind and rain are present.   If it is too hot, some will take an umbrella just in case (which we will worry about forgetting somewhere along the way), or there is the option of a macintosh.  But if it is too hot to wear, many commuters will have both hands occupied already (one with the trolley and the other with that walking stick).  I know that if it is too cold, I am one of the lucky ones because I am more likely to get one of my children to get the car out of their garage and take me or go for me, and failing that, one of them will go to Sainsbury’s for me online.  

Then, there is the time to be considered.  Depending on the time of day or night you are making your journey, you could find yourself alone, leaving you realising that you have just missed a bus and wondering if that hanging box of information is telling the truth.  Or worse still, you will have been on the other side of the road, having seen three buses that stop at your intended destination. In contrast, the dangers of oncoming traffic and the loss of your ability to sprint across the road or make sufficient noise to get the driver's attention will leave you anticipating the wait. 

You might have mistakenly needed a bus during one of the evening rush hours. I am talking about the scramble when the workers leave the train station or the nightmare of school leaving time. Either way, there will be a few spaces left for your bottom to contact the red seat.

Sometimes, there is no red bench, but there will usually be a fence you can sit on or lean against. For those who live with a bus stop in front of their houses, I have to acknowledge the wear and tear on their fences because when older legs dictate, my brain often forgets to offer a few thanks because of the discomfort that is its primary focus.  I often wonder if those house owners sit behind their front room windows in continued and quiet annoyance or if they amuse themselves watching us oldies trying to get up again when the bus is making its final bus stop approach.   

 The young and more mobile have no idea what they are in for. However, they are pretty accommodating when making way for an old dear these days!

BF, Lee