The bus driver was happy at his work and we were equally happy, grateful too, to have benefited from it. Having steered us into Banbury bus station at the end of a joyful sunlit journey from Stratford-upon-Avon, he silenced the engine then surprised Rosemarie and me – by then his only passengers – with a sudden glimpse of his cheery demeanour.

“You know, on a day like this to drive along the route we’ve taken is a real pleasure and privilege,” he said. “It doesn’t feel like work at all.”

Something on similar lines (sans mention of work) had been said by me half an hour before, as the rolling landscapes of Warwickshire segued into those of Oxfordshire.

Cold clear light showed off to best advantage the trees so close to greening, the snowdrops and daffodils in unseasonable bloom beneath, the mellow ochre glow of the Hornton stone buildings punctuating our passage. Sharp shadows lent a painterly quality to the outlook.

Our lovely country viewed from a bus is a huge pleasure available to all yet seized upon by surprisingly few.

Getting and spending deters many from the longer, lazier course where travel is concerned. But with less constraint in the matter of time these days, I increasingly choose to be driven rather than drive.

Buses offer most of the advantages of a taxi or chauffeur-driven car without the excessive outlay of money these involve – without, in my case, the outlay of money at all.

Pensioners’ bus passes are a perk of old age that I’m hugely grateful to enjoy. But will they last? David Cameron says so, and I feel inclined to believe him, recognising that his grip on power would become suddenly more precarious were he to renege on the promise he has made to those delivering his valuable grey vote.

Whether there will still be bus services to travel on, though, is another matter altogether. Dave’s mum and aunt, already vocal on the subject of local government spending cuts as they affect Oxfordshire, might offer insights into this.

My trip to Stratford last week was made for a matinee performance of the RSC’s new production of Christopher Marlowe’s Dr Faustus at the Swan Theatre.

How often had this 40-mile journey been accomplished by me before, since a first occasion nearly 50 years ago for a King Lear starring Eric Porter in the title role? At least 400 times, I guessed, possibly nearer 600, and usually much more quickly in my car than at present owing to the lengthy stretches of route now set for a 30mph maximum.

Time matters less to me these days, however, so opting for three hours on a bus compared with one hour in a car no longer looks the batty choice.

On a recent birthday I made my way to Stratford by the S3 service to Chipping Norton and then on by the Stagecoach 50, the bus option chosen to permit a post-show dinner (lots of wine) at the One Elm, sister to Oxford’s Fishes pub.

Last Thursday, the shorter Chippy route didn’t work, so our trip was through Banbury in both directions.

This was a delight. First we were on a single-decker Stagecoach S4 which, after a dull start out of Oxford and Kidlington, next took us, following a right turn off the A4260, through Tackley, one of the prettiest (and least appreciated) villages beside the Cherwell.

Shortly after came glimpses over a long stone wall of the glories of Rousham House, that surviving testament to the genius of William Kent.

Closer still, during the second leg of the journey on the upper deck of a 50A service from Banbury, were viewed the battlements of Broughton Castle, ancestral home of Lord Saye and Sele, the 21st Baron of that name, who is now within five years of his centenary.

The lovely landscape surrounding the property, together with the scenery following in Tadmarton, Swalcliffe, the Sibfords and Upper and Lower Brailes, doubtless supplied much that stirred the enthusiasm of the driver on our home run.

Two days after my bus ride to the northern extremities of our county and beyond, I was back in Banbury again, on a £2 return rail fare from Oxford available to all. But this, perhaps, is a story for another day.