Untitled Document

Transports of delight

On the buses in 1963 by Geoff Newton

A "Clippies memoirs by Wynne Hope & Hilda Pulford

Some pictures


Midland General Omnibus Company workshops	Midland General Omnibus Company offices

Level crossing at bottom of Mansfield Road	Booking office at Eastwood & Langley Mill station

Working on canal basin Summer 2008	Working on Station Road, 2008

ON THE BUSES IN 1963 by Geoff Newton

Barely semi conscious, I thought hailstones were hitting the windows and shattering them. I could just make out a face a foot from my pillow glaring at me. The noise grew louder, I wanted it to stop, only to realise it was my alarm clock. I'd set it for 3.30 a.m. an unlooked for, god forsaken hour when all good folk should be abed.

Quickly pressing the stop button I dragged myself out of bed into freezing cold and dressed hurriedly. I tugged the bed covers over my wife and crept quietly downstairs envying her like mad. No time for a cup of tea either as I had to be at the Empire Picture House in Heanor by ten past four to catch the `paddy' to the Midland General Omnibus garage. If I missed it the walk was nearly a mile.
Donning my company overcoat I set out on the twenty minute walk from our house in Housley Town to Heanor. A hard frost had made the footpath treacherous so I decided to continue on the road which had thankfully been gritted the night before and made better progress. After a few hair raising slips and slides I managed to reach the pick up point as the paddy bus was grinding up Loscoe road. I leaped on and took a seat feeling exhausted; what's more I hadn't even clocked on.

On arrival at the garage I met up with my conductor, a young lad from Eastwood. We looked up the number of the bus we were allocated for that day, and after checking the vehicle over we had just twelve minutes to nip to the canteen for a welcome cup of tea before leaving the terminal at 4.45 a.m. bound for Ripley on route B1.

Our bus for the day was fleet number 465, a Bristol low decker having a rear entrance for passengers and incorporating electric doors. The driver who sat in an isolated cab by the side of the engine operated these.

I drove slowly out of the garage and headed over the railway crossing to climb the hill up Mansfield Road fully expecting the road to be icy. However the garage night shift had been out in a lorry spreading salt along many of the routes making them passable. The empty bus trundled up to Heanor quite comfortably and I felt relieved as we drew alongside the stop on Heanor market place. We took on one passenger; the conductor rang the bell twice and we were on our way to Ripley market place collecting two more gentlemen at Codnor.
Our next journey was on the B7 route to Mansfield, which I named the `Industrial Run'. We proceeded through mining villages with many factories en route. Passing The Butterley Company we journeyed to Swanwick and on through Leabrooks, Riddings, Ironville and Jacksdale. Our bus now full with eight passengers standing, the conductor signalled `three bells' to warn me that I could not pick up any more people. The situation changed at the next stop when forty men left the bus at Pye Hill colliery. Mineworkers, mostly strong and heavily built were the main customers at this time of day and the vehicle's low gears which I was forced to use frequently added delays to the journey with passengers either boarding or alighting at most stops. This meant the conductor was kept very busy.

On our journey we encountered four railway crossings: obviously more time was lost should any of the gates be closed. On many journeys we were held up at a crossing and delayed for up to five minutes which meant we had to play `catch up' - another way of saying the driver and conductor must work as a team to keep the bus moving as swiftly as possibly to make up for lost time yet always consider passenger safety.
The company's buses were well known for keeping a rigid timetable and we would pick up Inspectors at strategic points along our route. These guys would make notes as to whether that bus was on time and all passengers had paid their fare. That day we kept fairly good time and after delivering men to the Bentinck and Summit collieries we were able to go easy through Sutton-in-Ashfield with a lighter load to our next destination.

We arrived in Mansfield one minute late and after dropping our passengers I turned the vehicle round to park at the terminus ready for our journey back to Ripley. Meanwhile my conductor had ordered bacon and egg sandwiches and a cup of tea, which we gratefully devoured in the fourteen minutes left of our allotted break. We'd pass the time of day with many other crews and discuss all manner of topics ranging from the quality of the food to who might be elected next Prime Minister.

The return journey simply meant the route in reverse but this time took in factories, offices, building sites and shop workers plus a few school children, the latter always recipients of our patient and courteous services. It was always a pleasure to wait for the person running whilst gesticulating furiously for the bus to a bloke yelling, "'Old on a minute 'cos me mate's forgor'is tewl bag."
Many incidents occur during a day on the buses.

One lady decided that to shake her umbrella after boarding the bus just as the doors were closing was quite safe until the brolly got stuck. In a panic she dropped it on the pavement. I stopped the vehicle and the conductor retrieved the brolly immediately. The umbrella wasn't damaged but the lady still gave us a piece of her mind informing us that we should have allowed her to take a seat before we moved the bus along. She was right of course. However, after getting off at her destination she came alongside the cab and whispered that she would not be reporting us. I said, "Thank you" gave her a smile and received one back. At Ripley market place the conductor changed the destination blind to Pinxton, a shorter trip. After going there and back we would be taken off by another crew. The journey was finished without any fuss and after reporting no defaults on the vehicle the changeover was completed. My mate and I walked the short distance to the Beighton Street Cafe. On entering we were supplied with a cup of tea and a scone, a light refreshment before setting off aboard the B1 back to the garage, our shift over.
On this particular day and after reporting to the duty manager I went home; this involved using a bus to Heanor and catching a Trent operated bus along the Derby route to Housley Town. My first job once home was to stoke the fire and get the house warm. After a much welcome cuppa and a biscuit I'd have a snooze.

My wife worked in the Viyella factory in Hucknall and as I was the first back it was my duty to prepare our meal. When the meal was over jobs such as painting and decorating or sewing and knitting were undertaken before a `night cap' and bed well earned rest ready for the next day's shift.

On a few occasions when reporting to the duty manager he would ask if I could do some overtime. I usually obliged as the extra cash helped to pay the mortgage. But then it became a rush having to go home, do the chores then leave a note for the wife before getting back to the garage, all in three hours.

The extra `duty' started at four o'clock and finished at seven o'clock. After completing this I was never home before eight.

This is what I called bed and work. My wife knew it was part of the job and we took all inconveniences as they came.In honesty I enjoyed every minute driving buses; the vehicles were well maintained and washed everyday. At night cleaners were employed who would turn the buses out spotless; passengers and crews alike commented on the quality of a fleet about which the Midland General Omnibus Company were so rightly proud.

Geoff Newton Driver at the Midland General Omnibus Company, 1961 1967

A 'Clippie's' Memoirs

I had been on war work doing rope splicing for British Ropes of Doncaster and Dagenham until forced to come home because Mother was ill. Directed by the Government to work on the buses, I went to 'school' for a week to learn the ropes in quite a different way.
I met Hilda Pulford who, being experienced, taught me 'on the road' - 'hands-on practice' eventually helped me to jiggle two ticket racks and a ticket punch, tickets ranging from one old penny to one old shilling, plus Workers Returns and Ordinary Returns (in stapled bundles of 50). These we had to collect and give a receipt ticket back.
When busy the buses were packed and carried a standing load right down the aisle on the lower deck. Trolley buses ran on electricity which meant that at terminals the points had to be changed using a long pole. When not in use these were fastened beneath the bus. Sometimes the pole didn't connect to the power cable and sometimes the driver would have to find a telephone, ring the Bus Depot at Langley Mill and request the Tower Wagon be sent to get us back on the road. Of course the schedules went awry!
In war time bus windows were blacked out to prevent being seen by enemy planes during darkness. Pea-souper fogs caused another problem, conductresses and conductors forced to walk slowly in front of the bus with a big white handkerchief to prevent the driver going onto the pavement.
Despite all the service proved very dependable with a bus every twelve minutes.
I overcame travel sickness, but unfortunately passengers suffered the depot mop and bucket containing water and Izal disinfectant to wash the bus out; all taken in our stride for an hourly rate of nine old pence an hour. Rising at 3.00 a.m. for early shift we walked to the depot to ensure we were on the road at 4.27 a.m. The last shift finished at 12.33 a.m. If fine we walked home; when bad we'd wait for the 'Paddy' bus to take us home around 1.00 a.m.
Severe winters often saw us stuck on the hills but we still managed to get the points defrosted - a good laugh in the face of adversity.
Such upsets were eased by a lighter, happier side with great passengers, some of whom gave us sweets - a commodity on ration like foodstuffs and clothes. Extra clothing coupons came in handy when the MGO uniforms were dished out. Being a cold job standing on open-backed trolley buses I wore old land army breeches and wool socks, plus brown brogue shoes to keep warm. Passengers christened me 'Farmer Joskins'.
Colliers were great, most giving the right change and reminding us of the right stops in the black-out. Another passenger brought a bag of firewood; in summer we got bags of apples, perks always counted.

Humorous moments abounded. A few men carried suitcases, mostly Indian travellers in turbans who sold clothes door to door. Suitcases stored under the bus stairs, they would either sit on side seats or go upstairs on their journeys to and from Nottingham.
One chap usually caught the last bus to Nottingham from Heanor Market Place after a session in the Market Hotel. One night he went upstairs; at Giltbrook he tottered downstairs saying he needed to spend a penny. "I'm sorry, I can't help you. Best not to leave it too late when you've had a drink."
At Kimberley, I noted his desperation and told him to pop into the public house near the stop. "We'll wait." Once off the platform, he gripped the handrail and relieved himself up the back of the bus.
The bus was in uproar as I tapped his hand and told him to hurry up. Quite a river flowed down the main road that night.
The driver said: "It's a wonder there's any blue paint left on the back of the bus."
Going upstairs to change the destination indicator I discovered another mini-river running all around the top deck.

Our drivers, most of them good chaps, would watch your bus for any drunks while we collected fares and issued tickets. The police helped, and would come to the Ripley terminus to check you'd had no trouble, especially vandalism on the last bus.
Colliers were sensitive about their pit clothes, having to sit against other people. No pit baths then, miners going home in their pit muck, and looking forward to their bath at home, often in front of the fire.
We also found foreign coins passed to us in the blackout and had to stand to it ourselves. At least it made us more alert.
Any lost property it was our responsibility to hand it in. Eventually your name would come up on the 'Lost Property List' and if unclaimed, you were given the item. Otherwise you received a threepenny reward card. Most lost property turned out to be old gloves in bundles and often I ended up with 'em, never anything valuable.

A grand sight seeing men in uniform coming and going from their family leave travelling to and from the train station in Nottingham. Nice to chat, more so when they returned home at the end of the war - a happy time, all of us glad they made it.
VE Day, May 8th 1945, was my twenty first birthday. Mr. Churchill announced the end of hostilities with Germany and peace reigned.
A great day, everyone laughing and crying simultaneously; my husband-to-be arrived home that day after being released from German POW camp. Street parties with bunting and banners strung out with the words 'WELCOME HOME' for all to see. A bonfire was lit on the Croft on Cromford Road. Some birthday!
Ron, my feller, a POW for five years, waited months for his demobilisation to Civvy Street. Stationed at Oxford, he came home when possible at weekends. I changed my early shift to a late one when I knew, thus able to ensure he got his transport to Langley Mill. My mate would leave the tail end of the bus under the now defunct bridge and we would wait in the pit canteen for late shift colliers and also enable our uniformed blokes to get home, and save a walk of nine miles.
We'd work extra hours on top of the shift and ask to work our day off because of staff shortages. I worked 60 hours the week I got married, glad of the extra money.
Once married I left the trolley buses and shift work. Ron returned on 'B Class' to the coal mine at Watnall meaning he didn't have to complete the rest of his nine years army service. He was in the Territorial Army, and like others he'd had enough of being away from home.
No Clippies today. Or push chairs, or dogs costing threepence to travel. Everything is computerised now, everyone in a hurry. Sadly things have really changed. There's no having to sign the Inspector's board any more following his bus inspection.
We were all over that bus collecting fares, cleaning up, laughing, and feeling tired and hungry, but we never grumbled. Times - good and bad - we reflect upon with a smile. Those were the days!

Wynne Hope & Hilda Pulford