'Time waiting for the bus can be used for meditation' TOM SHIELDS

Sunday Herald, The, Feb 24, 2008 by TOM SHIELDS

THE subject for today's Debriefing is travelling by bus. So what do you know about buses? I am now the proud owner of a National Entitlement Card. This is the Sunday name for the bus pass. In years to come the card will also include my NHS details, DNA, list of previous convictions, which team I support and how much alcohol I have ordered from the Tesco Wine Club in the past calendar month.

Surely you are too young for a bus pass? And anyway, with your fabulous wealth garnered from a glittering career in journalism, do you need free transport?

No and yes. I am due my bus pass and I will use it even for journeys I don't really need to make and even if it means I am occupying a seat upon which a callow youth would normally be resting his smelly and trainer-adorned feet.

But aren't buses unpleasant and litterstrewn?

You still get dirty buses with empty IrnBru cans rolling up and down the aisle like tumbleweed in a Western movie ghost town. And the odd Gregg's poke with an unpleasant surprise inside should you be unfortunate to stand on it.

But the buses are a lot cleaner than they used to be. The litter is mostly discarded bus tickets and copies of the Metro, that free daily paper people throw away probably because it doesn't have a crossword.

And how is the crack?

I don't think you are allowed to do drugs on he buses.

No, how is the banter?

People don't seem to talk to each other as much as they did when I was a bus conductor (in the summer of 1968). I have had the bus pass for two weeks now, and I have yet to hear a Glasgow woman laden with shopping get on and announce to the rest of the passengers: "This is me since Sunday." When a woman says "This is me since Sunday", what does it mean?

As a mere male, I do not know. But I suspect it is something to do with the travails, cheerfully borne, of a woman who is bringing up a family and has a job as well as all the housework.

But, meanwhile, back on the buses, fellow passengers can be very kind. A chap offered me a swig from his bottle of Buckfast, recommending the tonic wine as an ideal elevenses. Last week, a young lady, alighting from the autobus, gave me her copy of the Evening Times, which does have a crossword.

But isn't it a bit of a pain hanging around for a bus to turn up?

No, they've got wee signs now at every stop that tell you when the bus is due.

Quite often the bus does not in fact turn up, but you know exactly how late it is.

This means you can complain to the driver, if you speak Polish.

And there may well be protection from the elements while you are waiting. For some reason, our hooligans don't seem to be panning in bus shelters quite as much as they used to. Time waiting for the bus can be used for meditation.

Don't say where's the feckin bus? Just say om.

What if you have gone all tantric and the bus still hasn't shown up?

Just hail a passing taxi. Unfortunately, these little black buses don't accept your pass and you'll have to pay. But sometimes life is too short to wait for a bus.

You should also be aware that, even with your National Entitlement Card, it is not possible to stop a 61 bus and ask the driver if he can whistle you up a number 20.

So, any holidays planned using the bus pass?

Definitely. Up to the Isle of Skye gratis by Citylink. Then enjoy the best the land and the sea can offer, courtesy of those fine Skye men and women who wouldn't see a pensioner go short of a prawn or a bit of lamb or a home-grown tattie and bit of curly kale.

There is East Kilbride, where I have relatives. It is a bit of a traipse but apparently you can break the journey overnight at the Burnside Hotel, a coaching inn in Rutherglen. Unfortunately, the bus pass does not cover this expenditure.

So, the future is public transport?

Oh, yes. But if you see me standing at a bus stop, feel free to stop and give me a lift in your gas-guzzler.

WHEN a great statesman stands down, it is always educational to hear the observations of lesser mortals on the subject.

Fidel Castro retired last week as president and comandante of Cuba.

George W Bush said nothing had changed in a regime run by two politically corrupt brothers (Fidel and Raul) who had fixed elections since way back in the 1960s.

The irony may be lost on President Bush, who won his way to the White House in 2000 after some less than transparent electoral manoeuvres in the state of Florida, where his brother Jeb just happened to be governor.

Bush also criticised Fidel for his (admittedly) implacable record in jailing political enemies. In another scary parallel, Bush has imitated Fidel with his very own political concentration camp at Guantanamo, on Cuban soil.

If it came to a decision as to which set of brothers had made the bigger contribution to mankind, I think it might be Castro over Bush by a lot more than the length of a Cohiba lancero (a big Cuban cigar, to the uninitiated).

The Castros undoubtedly have been smarter. Fidel survived a reputed 638 CIA-inspired attempts on his life.

He has thwarted the USA and outmanoeuvred Washington at every turn, from the debacle of the Bay of Pigs invasion to the Mariel boatlift, when the USA kindly cleared Cuba's jails of the worst of the country's criminal classes.