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
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