Police Left in their Big Blue Car

Our own minibus is a valuable adjunct to the transport we book for the holidays.  When considering the expense involved, taking it over on the ferry to the Isle-of-Wight is an expensive business.  To other places it can justify its running costs, since it can carry passengers.  Five or six very disabled passengers can travel more comfortably in the Minibus, with their own escort, and able to stop anywhere required, without inconveniencing other people, is sometimes sufficient assurance to some poor handicapped soul to persuade her to accept the chance of a holiday.  Otherwise, we are told “…I would be too much bother to you”.

 

Even the trip over the Solent, expensive as it is, can be so arranged that some expense can be saved.  Correspondence is started months in advance.

 

“Dear Sir, We shall be bringing 350 holidaymakers, including 50-60 handicapped people, to Lymington for the Ferry ---“. Including a reference to the equipment van, maybe two cars and the Minibus, and finish with a reminder of how helpful all the staff were on previous occasions and commending the tolerance shown by everyone to the problems our party presented.

 

It always works.  The Ferry is held up for twenty minutes or so while a shuttle service is organised getting the non-walkers onto the Ferry via the car ramp.  Deck level seats are produced for everyone requiring them, and a dozen or more extra chairs appear to supplement the supply.

 

Meanwhile, the vehicles are driven on board; the Minibus with its load of paralysed folk; the large equipment van carrying walking aids, one or two commodes, perhaps a hoist and several spare wheelchairs.  Invariably the Minibus is ignored.  We include the passengers in our list, but the vehicle is a ‘bonus’.

 

The party is paid for as a block booking by cheque.  One person in charge stands by the embarking official and identifies all the party as they file through.  All red tape is in shreds.

 

Minibus trips start on Sunday morning with church parade.  The Catholics are taken to a 10 a.m. service and the Anglicans to an 11 o’clock one.  The bus takes the first one or two loads, and then collects the C. of E. adherents, leaving them in good time for their service.  It then fetches home the Catholics, and is in good time to meet the Anglicans as they emerge from their church.  The Holiday Camp itself is usually responsible for a short evangelical get-together which fills the bill for the Non-conformists.  Well before Sunday lunch the snack bar is full of people in smart Sunday hats, all well safeguarded against the effects of alcoholic liquor and bawdy jokes for the rest of the day.

 

From Monday onwards, the Minibus is booked for all the folk who otherwise would not be able to enjoy shopping trips or visits to the beach unless they are taken.  The shopping trip organiser visits them all in turn, discovers what they think they would like to do, and works out a rota.  Each load consists of about five disabled passengers and five ‘pushers’.  Wheelchairs are piled onto the roof rack, and the vehicle heads for Newport or Yarmouth, or wherever is the nearest big shopping centre.

 

It is a strict instruction that no ‘pusher’ ever buys anything for a wheelchair passenger.  However crowded the shop, however difficult the access, whatever the hazards or obstacles, the chair bound ones are to be allowed to go into the shop to spend their own money.  They can tour as many shops as time permits and look at everything which interests them.  It would be infinitely easier to receive instructions about what is required, leave the chair at the shop doorway, do the purchasing and return with the goods and the change, but it is less than satisfying.

 

It frequently takes a long time to spend a small store of money.  It is most important that one must not be tempted into choosing the first attractive article one sees.  How many other more desirable article one sees.  How many other more desirable articles may there not be round the corner in the next street, in the next shop, even on the next counter?  It is not unusual to spend a long, hot, strenuous two hours traipsing around the maze of precincts and streets, and sometimes the market, only to learn that the very first article seen in the very first shop is now required.  So one heads back again to the start of the trail to find the chosen article.  But worse can occur.  It often happens that the pusher, the passenger, and any other accompanying pedestrian can none of them remember where the article was seen.  There is nothing for it but to embark on another complete round trip to locate what is required.

It is no wonder, therefore, that by the time everyone has had a tour of the shops, there is scarcely time to get everyone loaded back on board the ‘bus and home again, in time for the next meal.

 

Christina was one of our semi-mobiles.  That is, she could walk short distances, around shops for instance, but could not manage a proper tour.  She was included as an ‘extra’ on one particular morning because she had specially asked to be allowed to go on market day to mooch around the stalls on her own and at her own pace.  This she did, and when it was getting near time for the return journey, she was found, brought back to the rendezvous for embarkation on the ‘bus, and seated on a handy seat and told to wait.

 

Christina had treated herself to winkles, a cup of tea, an ice-cream, and one or two other delicacies.  Immediately opposite her was a ‘Ladies’.  She glanced around; no sign of the Minibus or her escort, so heaving herself off the seat, she shuffled over to the door, pushed her way inside, and disappeared.  It was unfortunate for Christina that this particular convenience had two entrances, on from the market and the other from a short road leading to the main shopping street.  Christina went in by one door and left by the other.  When the rest of the party assembled a few minutes later, panic arose.  Where was Christina?  A general search was initiated but with no success.  Christina had vanished like a puff of smoke.  There was nothing for it but to take the rest of the passenger’s home, leaving the escort behind to rescue the missing shopper should she return.  Half-an-hour later, the Minibus returned to find the unhappy escort sitting forlornly on the seat, searching with anxious eyes through the milling crowd for some sign of the missing charge.

 

Eventually it was decided that no further progress could be expected by just waiting.  Christina would have returned had she known where to find the seat on which she had been left.  So the police were told the story and everyone returned to the Camp to await news.  The afternoon passed slowly with no news.  Several phone calls were made to the police station, but they, although anxious, could give no joy.  It was after 7 p.m. when a long, sleek, blue police car reported to the main gate with Christina seated cheerfully in the back seat.  Thankfully we helped her out.  She was quite unperturbed until – “What is the time?”, she enquired.  She was told, and immediately burst into tears.  We were flabbergasted.  We tried to cheer her but her distress only increased.  The police were as puzzled as we were.  Then, between sobs, Christina told us what had upset her.  She had returned too late for the evening meal.

 

We heard all the particulars of the episode from the police.  Christina had, quite sensibly, sought the help of the police when she had found herself mislaid.  It was only a matter of twenty minutes or so before they had her rescued by the big police car, and then the trouble really began.  Christina told them she was in number 16.  So she was, but that was the number of her chalet.  There were quite a lot of roads in the town and most of them had a number sixteen, so the search had continued for many hours.  It took quite a little while for the connection between a little old lady living at number 16 and a missing holiday-maker from a Holiday Camp several miles out of the town, to be recognised as one and the same person.

 

The police left in their big blue car, and we started to make arrangements to find something to compensate Christina for her missing meal.  We had hardly time to dry her tears and raise her morale before the big blue car was back again, with a great newspaper-wrapped parcel for Christina.  It was fish and chips for her supper.  We decided we would have to put her on a lead for the rest of the holiday or she would make sure she got lost again!