TRAVELLING by bus from Accrington to Blackburn on a recent Saturday night, at Church we stopped to pick up three young ladies who, from their hair, clothes and make-up, had spared no expense to make themselves attractive.

The turnout was, as in a teenager's mind, aimed at adding a few years to their ages no doubt in order to attract males who were upmarket age-wise.

However, the 'ageing' ploy was temporarily ditched in cajoling whinge to the bus driver that they were all entitled to half fares.

Negotiation continued place while the bus company employee tried to reconcile the evidence of his own eyes with the pleadings, in assumed childlike tones, of the three teenagers.

It was obvious that none of them was in fact young enough to claim half fare by at least eighteen months or more. The bus chappie, however, was never going to win and, for the sake of peace and progress, he capitulated.

During the remaining 15 minutes, having won child status and taken seats at the rear of the bus, the trio reached the rest of us with a stream of bad language.

I glanced at the elderly lady and the two middle-aged ladies who were also passengers and, in a split second of eye contact, we each transmitted a whole raft of unspoken, agreed comment that would need a thousand words to describe.

I hate to write this; the bus driver may not wish to know that as the three 'children' left his bus they were discussing at what late hour they should get a taxi home.

I make no further comment.

DAVID PRATT, Plantation Street, Accrington.

Converted for the new archive on 14 July 2000. Some images and formatting may have been lost in the conversion.