The venue
for the Lancashire Shield Final
was situated in this now famous
thoroughfare. In 1967 the first
XI had qualified yet again and a
large party of boys were
transported there to support the
team. Any boy who had played for
a school soccer team during the
year could go. Despite my
agonising year in the Lambda
left-overs I had played twice for
the shockingly piss-poor under
12s (how is another story). Thus
I went with many others for what
turned out to be a memorable day.
The
School had hired about three or
four Liverpool Corporation buses
to take us to Penny Lane and for
the return journey to Prescot.
And these were real pre-Atlantean
buses. Passengers boarded and
alighted from a decent rear
platform. No OMC and no fancy
doors.
Bus Nuts
out there can whip themselves
into a frenzy by recalling those
green classics we so took for
granted; AEC Regents and Leyland
Titans. [On the subject of buses
(and I'm no nut by the way) does
anybody remember the 'bell' on
the upper deck of those St Helens
Leyland double deckers? A rubber
strip running fore and aft on the
ceiling. Made a kind of
'mee-meep' sound like the Road
Runner.]
Anyway,
after the Final we all piled
onboard and headed back to
Prescot. Our bus set off, packed
full of excited and uniformed PGS
reprobates. We were upstairs on a
front seat when a couple of us
noticed the panel to the
destination blind control handles
was unlocked. Well, what followed
was inevitable. Using our
combined encyclopaedic knowledge
of Corpy bus routes we proceeded
to put up numbers and
destinations appropriate to our
location and direction of travel.
I can' t remember all the numbers
and routes we managed to clock
up. Correct me if you wish or can
but I think we squeezed in the 61
to Seaforth, 40 to Huyton, and
once we hit East Prescot Road the
9D to Longview and then the 10 to
Prescot.
What
hilarious fun we had all the way
to Prescot. The tension increased
as we approached each bus stop.
Queues of people waiting saw us
approach, put their hands out to
request a stop and then watched,
slack-jawed, turning to follow us
as we rocketed past. They must
have seen upper deck windows full
of sweaty, red-faced youths
laughing, holding their bellies,
mocking and yelling out various
forms of derision. Women with
babies, men returning from work,
old couples with bus passes,
blokes who'd fought in two World
Wars for the likes of us, they
all fell victim to our cruel and
heartless fun.
My! How
we laughed!
We missed
our full quota of fun by putting
up the 510 for a couple of
incorrect limited stops. Groans
of disappointment ensured a
return to being the 10 for a
joyful remainder of the return
leg up the hill to Prescot.We
alighted in Prescot exhausted and
aching from the mirth. What a day
out!!
Oh yeah.
And the First XI won the Shield.
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