We were to meet at a local primary school where the bus would pick us up. At 6pm. That means that 30 primary school children will be fed and watered, filled with sugar and all sorts of "E" numbers AND be hyper at the start of the holiday. What had I let myself in for? And why? As a favour to my ex mother-in-law, the teacher who had arranged the trip.
By the time the last of the kids arrived and luggage was packed, my ears hurt from the volume generated by such small people. The floor of the bus was already wet and sticky from spilled juice and some of the kids had changed into pyjamas for the overnight journey to Belgium. There were pillows, sleeping bags, cuddly toys and anything else you can associate with children's bed time, but they were all so hyper, there was no chance of any sleeping, that's for sure.
Not unexpectedly, the first aid kit was put to use before we even set off and as we (adults) settled down in our seats at the frot of the bus, there was bedlam behind, including wailing, crying and frantic waving as we started our journey. Thankfully the bus had a toilet, cos the first call for it happened after about 500 yards, and was the start of a never ending queue throughout the night. By Longforgan, there was the first shout of "are we there yet?" Not quite I replied, only 5 minutes gone and another 20 hours to go.!!!!
Normally, I would go from Dundee to Perth, down the A9 towards Glasgow then south to Dover from there. Our bus driver decided to go via Kinross and the A977 to Kincardine. This gave me an idea. Why not pass the time winding up the curious kids?
As we approached Kincardine Bridge, I asked if any of the children had seen or heard of the movie " Bridge on the River Kwai". Quite a few claimed to have seen it and were so excited when I told them they were about to cross it. The excitement spread and fame shone like a beacon from those who claimed to recognise it. One even claimed her dad helped build it. Not bad for a dad whose own father would barely have been alive at the time.
After a stop at Southwaite services - that's a joy I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy- for a change of driver, we continued down to Dover and the ferry to Zeebrugge.
The devil in me emerged again mid crossing here when one little cherub switched on her pocket radio that had lovingly been tuned to Radio Tay and her favourite DJ - Ally Bally. Imagine her dismay at it now picking up a French speaking station. I calmed her by saying that we were close to France, so Ally Bally was speaking in French. Happy again, but none the wiser, she left content to listen to Radio Calais or some such similar crap.
Keeping the kids safe and occupied on the ferry was a chore, so why not take them for a tour of the boat? If in doubt, make it up. They don't know, don't care and lap up the professed knowledge like a cat with a saucer of cream.
At one point, land was nowhere to be seen and a curious young lad asked "how does the driver know where to go?" Actually a very good question, but easily answered with a trip to the back of the boat. As we all stood there looking at the line of churned water formed in our wake, That streched back as far as we could see, I said " do you all see that white line painted on the water?" In unison there was a confident but primary school slow "yes". Well that line runs all the way to Belgium and the driver follows it all the way to where we are going. Gullible doesn't cover half of it. Maybe this trip wasn't going to be half as bad as I expected.
My mistake was claiming to be the font of all knowledge. This sheer stupidity caused a ceaseless barrage of questions, some nautical and others obtuse, but ever the source of fun.
One serious pupil asked a sensible question of the "are we nearly there yet" variety but framed in a more intellectual way. "How long does it take to get to Belgium on the ferry?" Whilst I don't remember now, I did know at the time and accurately recounted the journey time. This also have me the opportunity for some more fun by explaining that whilst it took that long to go there, the return journey would only be half that time, cos it was downhill!!! Hook, line and sinker.
No doubt when some of them got home they would have argued black was white with their patents that the ferry home was downhill, that the driver followed s white line painted on the water, that Ally Bally broadcast from Dundee to Calais in French and that they all travelled over the bridge on the river Kwai.
They all had great time and learned a lot (ranging from the truth, to something like the truth, to Hans Chritian Anderson) and came back richer in spirit and wiser in culture.
Did I enjoy my school trip! Yes.
Would I do it again? .... I'd rather staple my tongue to a burning building!!!!!
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