As a five-year-old I had never been on a bus let alone seen a bus conductor. The chap who worked the Green Line between Chatham and London wore a disc-shaped machine at his waist that dispensed crisp cardboard tickets. An instrument of valves and keys borne bandolier-fashion over his uniform doled out correct change. “It’s impolite to stare” my mother corrected, but I hadn’t even noticed the conductor’s hunched back and his extra big boot. For Christmas 1967 I received my own bus conductor’s kit, replete with flat cap, cheap plastic belt, a roll of tickets and a coin dispenser.
Other "on the buses" stories can be seen at the Exquisite Corpse - found here. http://drinkthenewwine.blogspot.ca/
