THE BLUE BUS TALES
another children's story
for 3 - 6 year olds
from
Rob Haywood
The Adventures of a Small Family of Buses
and the Daily Life of a Bus Depot
"Where are you going today, Hartly ?" asked Tammy, the little bus with nothing upstairs.
"I'm taking some workers to the new factories on Piddlebrain Estate, Tammy," Hartly replied in his extra special posh voice. Hartly always used his posh voice when he had a special job to do. Like today. Hartly had been specially chosen to be the very first bus to take workers to the new factories. This had made some of the other buses jealous. They liked early factory jobs too, because they got finished early and could go back to the depot and go back to sleep again.
"Oh, are you sure you know the way ? It's a very new place," Tammy said.
"Of course I know the way, silly, I don't get lost," Hartly replied in his poshest ever voice.
"Show off !" came a voice from amongst the rows of all the other buses, "trying to impress the girls again." Some of the other buses laughed.
"Hm! Show off, hey? Yes, I'll show off, I'll show all of you," Hartly replied in his poshest upset manner. And with that, Hartly's driver started his engine, and they both left in a huff.
Out into the dark morning air went Hartly, his bright headlamps showing him the way through the town's dimly lit streets. All over the town, Hartly picked up so many men and women workers that his bus was chop bang full. So, he set off to the new factory estate.
All of the workers were chatting and laughing and talking so much, they paid no attention to the route that Hartly was taking. The bus turned this way and that, up this street and down that street, round roundabouts, down hill and up hill, until the workers were nearly too dizzy to talk.
But still they kept on chatting, taking no notice of just where they were going, not even bothering to clear the steam and mist from the windows. After they had been going along merrily for about three hours, one of them looked out of an upstairs window.
She was a bit surprised to see that it was daylight. And to see cars and lorries passing Hartly very fast, on both sides. The road seemed to be very fast and straight, with lots of bridges over it. And Hartly's engine seemed to be singing along.
"It's a loverly day - to be on the Motorway - - on such a loverly day," Hartly sang to himself.
"OH, DEAR, DEAR, ME !" cried all the workers together, "we're on the Motorway!! STOP - STOP - STOP," cried all the workers together, "STO-O-O-O-O-PP!" they all shouted very loudly to Hartly's driver, the littleman with nothing upstairs.
"Can't stop, I'm afraid," the littleman with nothing upstairs replied, "these factories should be along here somewhere."
"But we're on the MOTORWAY," all the workers chorused together.
"Can't stop, dunderheads, we're on the Motorway," Hartly muttered in between his singing. Oh, he WAS enjoying himself. He hadn't had a ride like this ever before, and he wasn't going to stop now. So he went even faster. Hartly quickly passed all the lorries that had passed him, then he passed all the cars as well!
"Oh what a loverly, loverly day to be on the Motorway," he sang, as he passed a big posh white car with a fancy red stripe down the side and a big blue bunion on its roof. Hartly thought he had seen one of these cars before and was delighted when the posh white car then passed him very fast, the blue bunion flashing very prettily. "My, My, that bunion must be hurting VERY much to flash like that," he hummed to himself as he sped along.
"STO-O-O-O-P!" screamed all the workers, their knuckles white as they clutched the back of the seat in front, and each other.
"STO-O-O-O-P!" shouted the policeman through his loud-hailer at the speeding Hartly. The bunion seemed to be flashing more angrily now.
"Oh, perhaps he wants a race," Hartly sang out delightedly. The posh white car started to make a loud wailing noise, which rather startled Hartly. "Oh, I say, that's neat - wish I had one of those," he shouted, and he sounded his horn, very loud, B-E-E-P B-E-E-E-P !! But Hartly could see that the men in the posh white car were getting mad, perhaps they didn't want to race after all. Something must be wrong, he decided.
"STO-O-O-P ! PULL - OVER !" shouted the man at the wheel of the posh white car.
"STO-O-O-P !" screamed all the workers, upstairs and down.
"SHADDUPP!" yelled the driver, a littleman with nothing upstairs.
"I think I had better stop," Hartly said to himself most disappointedly. He had only been entering into the spirit of things, after all. He started to pull over the other two traffic lanes, and two miles later, managed to stop in a safe place. The posh white car stopped in front, and the two men got out. They fixed their posh white peaked caps firmly onto their heads and walked determinedly towards Hartly. All the traffic was now speeding past him instead of him speeding past the traffic, Hartly noted with disgust. The men spoke angrily to Hartly's driver, the littleman with very little upstairs.
"WHAT do you think you are up to ?" one of them demanded.
"Er, umm, I'm er looking for the P-Piddlebrain F-Factory Estate," Hartly's driver replied nervously.
"YOU are nicked !" the other man said.
"Oh dear, what have I done ?" Hartly's driver enquired.
"Oh dear, what has he done ?" Hartly wondered to himself.
"WE'LL tell you what you've done," the two angry men shouted together, " you, you, ... YOU'RE NICKED !"
"Oh dear," said Hartly. He had suddenly remembered where he had seen littlemen in these fancy blue suits before. He then went strangely silent.
"What for," Hartly's driver asked.
"For - for - for driving in a manner likely to cause ...... two police hoff-icers to have an hac-cident in their police car," one of them said, as he adjusted his uniform trousers.
"WE - WANT - TO - GO - TO - WORK !" chorused all the workers, upstairs and down.
"YOU are all booked as well!" said the second policeman.
"WHAT FOR ?" demanded all the workers upsatirs and down.
"For - er - being on a moving bus when it frightens two police hofficers into nearly having an haccident in their police car," said the first hofficer.
"Bobbycoppers !" sighed Hartly loudly.
"WHO SAID THAT ?" snapped the two officers.
"Not me," said Hartly's driver.
"Not me," shouted all the workers together, upstairs and down.
"Not me-hee," fibbed Hartly in a faint high pitched voice
"RIGHT!" said the first bobbycopperhofficer, "YOU lot are all going back."
"Back to where?" said Hartly's driver.
"Back to where you all came from," replied the two bobbycoppers in unison, "turn round up that next slip road, go over that bridge, and back up the Motorway," they instructed - firmly ! (anyway, they weren't in Unison, they weren't in a Union at all).
"Oh-kay," Hartly's driver replied haughtily. "if you're going to be like that , we'll go back to where we came from. So there!" he added as a brave afterthought.
And so off they all set once more, up the slip road, right around the roundabout, and back down the same slip road they had just come up!
"Oh what a loverly, loverly day to be on the Motorway," Hartly sang contentedly, as he whizzed back up the Motorway, beeping his horn delightedly at all the trucks and cars as they whooshed past him on either side going down the Motorway. Why are they ALL going the wrong way, thought Hartley. Ho, they'll be in trouble . . .
The two bobbycoppers scratched their heads in disbelief. Then they went and . . . well, what do YOU think ? They went back to their car, got out their flasks, and poured themselves a good, strong cup of tea. No milk, lots of sugar. What else could they do?
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© January 1991 * * * RLH