They Will Come Peter ! They WILL COME !

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Peter, people will come, Peter. They'll come to Beverley for reasons they can't even fathom. They'll turn up on your parents driveway, not knowing for sure why they're doing it. They'll arrive at your door as innocent as children, longing for the past. "Of course, we won't mind if you have a look around," you'll say. "It's only £10 per person." They'll pass over the money without even thinking about it; for it is money they have and peace they lack.
And they'll walk out to the Bus Stop, and sit in shirt-sleeves on a perfect afternoon. They'll find they have reserved seats somewhere along one of the Bus Queues, where they sat when they were children and caught buses into town for a Maccy D. And they'll eat there Maccy D’s and Whooooarh Burgers mate, and it'll be as if they'd dipped themselves in magic waters. The memories will be so thick, they'll have to brush them away from their faces.
People will come, Peter.
The one constant through all the years, Peter, has been Beverley bus station. Beverley has rolled by like an army of steamrollers. It's been erased like a blackboard, rebuilt, and erased again. But Beverley Bus Station has marked the time. This Bus Station, this Bus, is a part of our past, Peter. It reminds us of all that once was good, and it could be again. Ohhhhhhhh, people will come, Peter. People will most definitely come.

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