Days Like This by Agnes Ford

We’ve been friends since our schooldays – and that was not yesterday. Christian lives in the picturesque Perthshire village of Pitcairngreen. I reside in the industrial town of Grangemouth in Scotland’s central belt. Browsing through the Grangemouth Advertiser (free paper) one day a few weeks ago, I noticed that a local coach company was advertising a shopping trip to Perth for £10. Having reached an age when motorway driving is no longer a pleasure, I decided to take advantage of this day out, so I phoned Christian and suggested that we meet in Perth for lunch. As the coach was scheduled to leave Grangemouth at 10a, I thought 12 noon would be a good time to meet.

Christian suggested a meeting place and I advised her to take her mobile phone with her just in case of any delays or mishaps.

It was a beautiful morning and the coach set off on time, having picked up some passengers before leaving Grangemouth. There were one or two local stops on the way and soon we were heading up the A9. The countryside was at its best and it was a treat to be able to enjoy the scenery instead of having to concentrate had I been driving.

At 11.30 am the driver announced that we would be having a stop for coffee. Fine, I thought, half an hour, maybe and another ten minutes and we should be in Perth. A little later than I had anticipated but never mind, I would give Christian a ring and let her know I’d be slightly later than I’d planned. A few minutes later the driver drove into an area where there was a garden centre, a woollen mill shop and a tearoom, saying that we would have an hour here and that we would be in Perth around 12.45. I immediately got my mobile phone and tried to contact Christian. After several attempts I came to the conclusion that her mobile must be switched off. I made my way to the tearoom and ordered a cup of coffee. I sat at a table for almost an hour frantically trying to get Christian on the phone. I was back, seated in the coach when eventually she answered the phone. I told her what had happened and she said that she knew where the coach was likely to park and that she would make her way there and meet me.

Once in Perth, the driver decided to drop the passengers off in Tay Street, by the river, and said he would pick us up there at four o’clock. I asked if I could stay in the coach and so go to the parking place with him. That was fine, but on arrival there was no sign of my friend. The driver, very kindly offered to take me back to another car park, where he thought Christian might have gone to, but when we got there, there was no sign of her.

Again, I got my mobile out, along with the slip of paper on which I had written Christian’s number. At that point, a gust of wind stole the paper from my hand. It fluttered into the middle of the road and the last I saw of it, it was disappearing under the wheels of a lorry. I tried in vain, using various permutations of the numbers I thought I could remember, and in disgust, had to give up.

For the next couple of hours I walked up and down the main shopping area, hoping to catch sight of Christian. Now and again I thought I saw her but when I got close, realised it was a complete stranger.

I decided to go and have something to eat, but after ordering a meal, my hunger was just not there. I had a cup of black coffee before going out into the shopping precinct to start my search once more.

I glanced at my watch and was horrified to find it was now 3.30pm. I wearily made my way back to Tay Street where some of the passengers had already gathered. I wondered why I was getting strange looks until I realised I was the only one not laden with bags and parcels. After all, it was supposed to be a shopping trip.

The journey home took an hour and a half, stopping to drop off people here, there and everywhere, Grangemouth being the last stop.

A day to remember? A day to forget, perhaps….

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