Buses

In the brief period of real childhood that came between hospital and puberty, family holidays were as rare as proverbial hen's teeth. My parents had little money to spend and so when we did get away for a day, it was a treat that was almost beyond imagination.

Our holiday would be a day trip to the seaside. We always went to the same place, a typical seaside resort at Barry Island in south Wales. Here we could swim in the sea and play in the sand to our heart's content for those magical few hours. The sea and sand were wonderful but not far from the beach was the funfair, and that was of course what caught our imaginations. I can still hear the sounds and smells, and the heady mix of excitement and fear as the lucky ones got to ride on the big dipper or the sky rockets. For us, it was a case of watching the others on the rides as we had no money for such frivolity. I remember the envy and the feeling of deprivation but in reality we still enjoyed being there. It was a temporary escape from reality and a glimpse into a different world. We even took sandwiches for lunch, and picnicked on the beach while others went off for fish and chips or restaurant meals.

I remember the woollen swimming trunks and the difficulty of getting sand out of everywhere. I remember adults sitting on the beach in suits and hats and ties, and i remember that the journey home was always quicker than the journey there.

I remember the bus stopping on the way home so that the adults could call in at a pub for a few drinks while us kids stayed on the coach and if we were lucky, with a packet of crisps. I remember how tired we were by the time we got home and how good it felt to tumble into bed along with the sand that clung to our bodies.

One summer, we had such a trip promised, and as a family we set off for the main road where the coach was to pick us up. It was an early start, and at six am we stood at the top of the hill waiting with eager anticipation for the coach to arrive. It was a lovely morning and should have been a good day for the beach.

The coach appeared and to everyone's horror, it drove straight past us, and as we saw it vanish ing into the distance, we realised that our holiday had gone with it.

We had no phone then, so could not contact the company and simply had to go home. It was a feeling of devastation. Something special had been taken away from us and for no reason that we could understand. It was a feeling of utter powerlessness, and like nothing I had felt before or since.

It turned out eventually that someone had forgotten to put us on the passenger list so the driver did not know that he was supposed to pick us up. There was some form of compensation but how can you compensate a child for such a disappointment?

I am not sure why I am writing about this, as my life has been punctuated by many such disappointments. Over the years I have become aware that to place total trust in people or events is unwise. The one thing that you can rely on other people doing is that sooner or later they will let you down; that is the nature of humans. They may not mean to, but it happens. Life is about buses that pass you by and basically you have no choice but to accept that.