Personal

The 31A

For three years I waited daily at Chelmsford bus depot for the 31A to take me home after school.

For the past five years I've glanced out of the train window each time I pass it, thinking back to those days of boys crowding round Bay C at the depot; of a quarter of strawberry bon-bons, of occasionally walking the three miles home so I could save the fare; of homework, of bullying, of friends long since lost.

When I looked tonight though, the scene's changed. The building's gone - just a levelled patch of earth in its place.

Time to find something else to hang my memories on.