THE LAST BUS TO NOWHERE - THE DEATH OF A NORTHERN TOWN

I wasn’t surprised to find I was the only one at the bus stop, few people wanted to catch the last bus to nowhere at the best of times, no one wanted to catch it at this time of night, that was for sure. With a heavy sigh I watched my breath condensate in front of me as the first flurry of winter snow made its presence felt.

Glancing along the once proud high street I took in the tired shop fronts with their peeling paint and graffiti besmirched shutters which to all intents and purposes were about as much use as a blindfold covering a dead man’s eyes. Just for a moment I remembered it as it used to be with its traditional shops such as Jack’s the greengrocers, and Mr Marks the newsagent where gran used to treat us to Sherbet lemons and Sugar Mice when we were kids. They were all long gone now, victims of out-of-town shopping and the internet. All that was left, were nail bars, Turkish barbers and takeaways. It wasn’t the same...

I shook my head it not being lost on me that the decline of the high street very much reflected that of the social fabric which once bound our community together. There wasn’t any community now, just a vacuous pit of decay and despair from which there was no return. The dreams and hopes of a generation shattered as if written on a pane of broken glass.

 A sudden gust of wind lashed the snow against my face forcing me to take a step back into the bus shelter. Ignoring the all-pervading stench of stale piss, I looked at my watch, assuming the bus was on time I had another two minutes to wait.

            Somewhere in the distance an angry, aggressive voice let rip with a vitriolic tirade of threats and insults. It was quickly answered in kind, and for what seemed an age the two protagonists raged at each other until they gradually faded away. It was like this every night; first came the shouts and the screams followed by the sirens, then more shouts before an uneasy silence settled over the town. I don’t think anyone slept with both eyes closed anymore.

            A pair of headlights swept into view, quickly followed by the sound of a labouring diesel engine as the number one bus ground its way toward me. Moments later its doors hissed open revealing a driver who looked as if he wanted to be anywhere else but where he was. I could only wonder as to what transgressions he must have committed to find himself driving the last bus to nowhere on a night like this. “Where to?” he asked.

          “Err, yeah, Tow Law please mate.”