I Love Megabus….

Margaret Thatcher is supposed to have remarked that any man over 40 who travels by public transport is a failure.  For once she may have been right.  Due to some spectacular financial mismanagement on my part, my car has been declared off-road for the past year and it looks like it may remain on my driveway, slowly rusting, for some time to come.

This is not the end of the world, though it means that shopping is confined to my nearest Sainsbury’s, a mere five minutes’ walk away, rather than my beloved Lidl, especially when my list contains heavy purchases (mainly wine).  Rather more seriously, my wife-to-be lives in Essex while I am stuck in the fastnesses of the Scottish Borders, waiting for some kind soul to take pity on me and buy my house (a snip at £190k if you’re interested).

So how to keep the spark of romance kindled?  Facebook is all very well but it’s not the same as cuddling up during The X Factor, so travel is what is required. In flusher times I would nip up to Edinburgh and fly to Luton or Stansted with Easyjet, and once I even went to Heathrow with BMI, though that luxury was spoiled by almost getting stranded in London late at night due to a person inconveniently being struck by a train and causing a total standstill on rail services from the airport.

Alternatively I would drive to Berwick-upon-Tweed and catch an East Coast train to Kings Cross, but I went off that idea when I arrived one day in Berwick to find the station car park full.  When I eventually found a space the London train was just pulling out with a cheery whistle.  Forking out over £100 to catch the next train I was unable to replicate the train’s cheerfulness.

And I would never have considered using the car to travel to Essex.  For a start I would have to use the A1 which a politician (not Maggie) once described as petering out into a goat track north of Newcastle.  In addition, my car was a bit of a gas guzzler when it was in its prime and I estimate that fuel for the journey would cost me as much as a first-class return on BA with caviare and champagne thrown in.

With this in mind I have recently resorted to Megabus.   For those Thatcherites among you, this is a (very) cheap bus service which allows me to travel the 300-odd miles from near my home to Victoria Coach Station in London for the princely sum of £10 (plus 50p booking fee).  No parking fees, a guaranteed seat and jolly drivers who will help with luggage are among the plus points.  The length of the journey (9 hours) is admittedly somewhat of a minus point but it’s not that much longer than my plane or train journeys used to take, or so I keep telling myself when my buttocks start to get a bit numb.

The buses could be a bit more modern and comfortable (the last one I was on had to be replaced in Preston) but on the whole the journeys have been more than bearable.  Yes, there is the odd annoying child traveller, and I could have done without the yobbo who kept announcing to the two girls accompanying him to Manchester that he was out on bail, but I have had worse companions on Easyjet and East Coast.

My journey starts with a pleasant rural ride through the rolling Borders countryside, heading for the M6 and Preston, whose ghastly 1930s bus station is the subject of a preservation order.  We pass the Reebok Stadium in Bolton and enter Manchester city centre (where there is a second-hand bookshop I am always sorely tempted by).  During the riots of 2011 we were unable to stop in the bus station on the return journey but we got a good view of riot police and their dogs, and police helicopters hovering over Salford.  It was very exciting. Through the leafy lanes of Cheshire we proceed back to the M6, and then to the M1.  Once or twice we have taken a diversion to avoid accidents or roadworks so I now know how to get to Alton Towers.  You don’t hear of trains taking a diversion (well, not often).  After a change of driver at the iconic Watford Gap services, we bowl down to London and in no time Victoria Coach Station opens its yawning maw and swallows us up, only to disgorge us again, a little travel-weary and yearning for a Starbucks before the final leg of our journey.

And now I read that Megabus is offering travel from English cities to Paris, Brussels and Amsterdam, again starting at £10 (plus 50p booking fee no doubt). I am sorely tempted but my future wife gets sick on buses.  Still, when I tell her how many croissants and croque-monsieurs, or ham rolls and Heinekens, we could buy in those lovely cities with all the money we’ve saved, perhaps she could be persuaded.

Written by: Roddy Campbell

From: Kelso, Scottish Borders