Monday, 19 October 2015

THE TICKET MACHINE... by The Mowdog...

The Ticket Machine

Sadly self-aware,
Assuredness awry,
Confidence lacking,
With clammy coppers
Hot in hand and mouth quite dry…

I awaited the conductor’s military
Approach, uniformed and spry;
His straps crossed and no slacking,
Worn bag rattling its own deep, leathery coffers,
The balance precise, the humour quite dry…

Eagerly, I would glare
At his silver machine;
A ticket clicking
Through smooth fingers:
Sleight of hand and quite clean…

I  envied the conductor’s nimble
Skill, uniform and mean, 
His straps crossed and thumb flicking
Worn lever;  oh, my own thumb there to linger!
The action precise, the pleasure quite serene…

Pete Ray
October 2015

As a kid, travelling on Birmingham’s buses in the early 1960s, I was totally mesmerised by the conductors’ ticket machines… The way that the tickets appeared, simply from the press of a thumb and the flip of a finger was brilliant… 
I desperately wanted a go. I was too shy to ask. 
After retiring from my teaching job at Birmingham Museum, a new history gallery was opened there and incredibly, a ticket machine was displayed, which brought back my longing. Finding one for sale on eBay, the bidding was won last Tuesday evening @ 21.07 hours and I now have my own ticket machine…
It’s what I do…



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