My bus ride into Britain's history.

BREATHLESSLY, I stepped into the bus. I put my concessionary pass on the reader and stuttered out a 'thanks' to the driver for waiting. I made my way through a sea of weather-worn faces and sat down, and as the bus swayed on its way, old friends, from school, factories and the trials and tribulations of war talked of children and grandchildren. We stopped at street corners; ladies of a certain age tottered aboard with their trolleys, and the occasional older gent, in shirt, tie and three-button jacket, brandishing a walking sticks as if on parade, his warweary eyes telling tales of harder times, joined us. [ABSTRACT FROM PUBLISHER]