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 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 serene…
Pete Ray
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 one
Tuesday evening in Cornwall at 21.07 hours and I now have my own ticket machine…
It’s what I do…
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