Alex McNee (Driver) 1972/3/4

 I came to Yelloway in 1972 for the summer season, having worked the previous season at Black and White Motorways in Cheltenham, I wanted to be nearer my home town of Halifax, I used to see the Yelloway coaches come into St. Margarets Rd. Coach Station and was immediately hooked. I decided to make my way back up north after the season of 1971. I went into the office in Weir St. Rochdale and was taken out on test with big Jack Hughes, he was an inspector, a tall thin chap we used to call lurch, anyway I must have been good enough for Jack, I started the week after and was very excited, I was of course very young (24) and all my own hair and most of my own teeth. I could not wait to get my hands on those beautiful AECs.

I started my duties with two other lads, the same age as me, one from Oldham and one from Shaw, little did I realise that this would be the beginning of a friendship that would last for thirty odd years and we still see each other occasionally to this day. Anyone around in those days will remember the names Malc Shirreff and Dave Green, every time we have a get together Yelloways always comes into the conversation, it really did have that much effect on us. Friday was a day a look forward to for me, especially if your name was down for the "paddy bus". A gang of drivers would board the driver only coach and set of to Cheltenham and Bristol to be set down and rest. We were to be used on the early morning takeovers of southbound coaches on route to destinations such as Torquay/Paignton/Bournmouth/Ilfracombe,etc. The banter and swearing was such a great laugh we could not offend anyone so you can imagine the crack. On route we would pull in to the P.M.T. depot in Stoke and have a hearty English breakfast, all that laughing and joking was hungry work. Back on the coach and slightly subdued we would settle into the next part of the journey, at this time the M5 and M6 were not connected, they were still working on them so we had to come off the motorway at Wednesbury, travel through Birmingham on the diversions, then once back on the M5 (only a two lane motorway at the time) a free run down to Tewksbury where it ended again and took us on to the old road and on to Mecca, Cheltenham that is. 
Winding our way round the tiny back streets we approached St. Margarets Road, and just after the pub turn left down the narrow entrance to the bus station, just a little tickle on the throttle and then on with the exhaust brake and the roar it made as the noise bounced off the high walls was one of the events of the day for me .Cheltenham was the  the main hub where every coach from all the towns and cities of  Britain came to transfer their passengers onto connecting coaches to take them on to their final destinations, and remember, these were the days when coaches had their own individual local liveries and the drivers had various different uniforms, so Cheltenham was a sea of colour and individuality. It was time for the paddy bus drivers to take another break, relax and catch up with fellow drivers north and southbound. On hot summer days we were off round to the pub for a quick pint of lager and lime and chat with the local girls, if we were lucky, just think today if you are caught in a a pub having a tipple you'd be hung drawn and quartered but it seemed quite acceptable in those days. I always remember one thing about the canteen at Cheltenham, and that's the black and white floor tiles and the lady whose job it was to fuel the coaches, boy could she swear, I was just a lad at the time and was quite naive, I didn't think women swore like that, she frightened me to death!!. Anyway time to get back on the paddy bus, wait for the bell and time to depart, all hell broke loose as every coach in Cheltenham tried to get out of town, as we eventually did of course, and onwards to our final destination for the day...Bristol (Cannons Marsh) It's funny you know but we always had a lot of caravans that would pull in behind us, totally lost, they would see the destination Torquay on the coach and latch on to us thinking that we were going straight to Torquay, a quick explanation, and we could put them right back on track and on their way again. 
Anyway, once off the paddy bus, we would  walk down to Bedminster where we would take shelter for a few hours after hitting the towns nightclubs, sometimes we only had an hours kip before the southbound driver would wake you at 0200 so he could have your bed, the coach would be parked outside on the road full load of passengers, all of them very weary and half asleep, we were charged with the continuation of the journey from Bristol on to Torquay/Paignton, all down the A38 as the motorway did not exist south of Bristol, so plenty of little narrow twists and turns through quaint villages and beautiful little un-spoilt towns After a few stops down the line, Taunton/Exeter, dawn throws an early cast on to the day, onwards up the renowned Telegraph Hill, a very steep incline which even slowed the mighty AEC down to almost walking speed, but this became an advantage to us, halfway up the hill there lived a tramp and he became quite a tourist attraction, he was as black as coal and had his fire going next to his tent. It was said that he was quite wealthy and decided to just drop out from society, a local folk lore figure of that time suppose.

Onwards into Newton Abbot and it was apparent that we had reached the English Riviera, a lot of the gardens had palm trees growing, never seen up north at that time, I can tell you. An air of excitement came over us as we rounded into Torquay Coach Station where we set down our overnight human cargo. Now it's time for us to get some r&r, starting with a good breakfast at the Upton Vale pub, just up the steps at the coach station, followed by a wash and brush up and a walk round town and on the sea front before getting our briefing for our northbound charge, these details would be given to us by our well respected resident bus station inspector. Our passengers were boarded accordingly, cases were packed into the boot, the rear view internal mirror above me was set so I could keep my eye on the passengers then, after clearance, it was a case of gentlemen start your engines, then we had a mass exodus of Yelloway and a few subbie coaches and from what I can remember, the sun always shone in those far off distant days. As for the northbound journey, well, that's another story.

Alex McNee (Driver) 1972/3/4