Bamboozled in Basle
Mary Edward
June 30th 1985. It was the third and final time I joined the school trip as an accompanying teacher. I wasn't responsible for the arrangements, but I was equally responsible for the safety and well-being of thirty-odd dear little charges.
The age group was first and second years, 12 and thirteen year olds, and the location was a small village several miles from Interlaken. The lead teacher, besides arranging the bookings, also devised the route by which we would travel. Note - this was not to Blackpool or Alton Towers, but to the beautiful and distant heart of Switzerland.
First we travelled by coach overnight to London, an ordeal in itself, then we were required to cross the city on the underground for the train to Dover. Can you imagine the rigours of the London Underground with thirty-plus tired and by now very hungry kids? (They'd eaten every morsel of food provided by their anxious parents long before the bus reached Gretna!) And if you have experienced the underground, you will have gathered that the metropolitan traveller isn't the friendliest creature you will meet on a given day. Still, rising above the curses that their presence elicited because they were slow, clumsy and scared stiff - and that was just the teachers - we made it, and sailed on the ferry to Calais. To my eternal wonder, we arrived on the other side of the channel with our full complement of heads (when you take a large bunch of children anywhere it is necessary to keep count by this method). The fact that Sharon might have her hair dyed magenta or Kyle be wearing a Nike cap are as nothing - each is simply a countable head.
The final stage of our journey was to travel to Interlaken by train. Another long journey, undertaken this time in couchettes. The couchettes on a French train are seats which convert into bunks for sleeping. All the children and staff fell into an exhausted sleep as the train raced through the French countryside, and I was no exception. I however, woke up earlier than the others and, not wishing to disturb my colleagues, took my book and slipped out of the compartment. Very soon it became rather uncomfortable to read standing in the swaying corridor, and I made my way to the next carriage where there were ordinary seats. This was fine, I chose the seat facing the glass door so that I would spot at once when any of the others emerged.
Many long and wearying hours had passed since we'd left the school gates, and, after a few pages of my book, I fell asleep. I don't know how long I slept but gradually I became aware of clanging metal, and I sort of came to and gazed blearily through the glass door of the carriage. What I saw was not the other carriage - but a set of gleaming rails stretching, emptily, into the distance. At that moment the source of the noises became horrifyingly clear. My bit of the train was no longer joined to the bit full of weans and teachers! To say I woke with a start would be the epitome of understatement. I leapt to my feet, wrenched open the carriage door and jumped out on to what was, fortunately, a platform.
There I was, no bag, no passport, no money and, as always happens when you need it most - no French. I yelled the one thing I was sure of at a passing official - Interlaken! - and he uttered a number while pointing to a stairway.(Afterwards I was amazed at how cool he was when a tousled, incoherent woman clutching only a paperback fell out of a train, and I could only conclude that he'd seen it all before.) After all, how was I to know (used to dinky railway journeys in Scotland) that we had reached a great big junction where the trains break up to travel to different parts of great big Europe.
Before I had thought of all this, however, I hared up the stairs, along a wide corridor to reach another set of steps leading down to where, bliss, my train stood waiting. Waiting, moreover, with about twenty wee heads poking out of the windows. They were all up. What to do? Taking a deep, deep breath I strolled down the steps on to the platform and acknowledged all their greetings with a regal wave and a casual 'Hi there,' in return. Not a soul asked where I had been.
