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'Hello, First York," says the woman on the other end of the line. "Can I help you?" I need to get to Strensall, I say. Can you tell me which bus I need? "Certainly", she says brightly, a model of efficiency. "It's the Number 3 or 3B. You can get those from outside the Theatre Royal in York, on the opposite side of the road."

She gives me the times - there are four an hour during the day - and then I land what's supposed to be the knockout punch. I've been told by the people who use it that the Monk's Cross service isn't as good as it should be.

"Umm, from Strensall I need to get to Monks Cross," I say, " - and then back into the city centre."

No problem. Get on any bus in Strensall and go to the working men's club in Huntington, she says. "Then you want the Y8 from the bottom of New Lane. It's a different stop. You get off opposite the club and walk around the corner. From Monks Cross you want the Number 6 or Number 17, they both go to Stonebow."

By now I'm seriously impressed. This woman certainly knows her timetables and bus stops - even if no-one else does.

It's not every day the boss of a bus company admits the network he's responsible for is confusing - for the drivers, as well as passengers.

But yesterday, launching a major consultation on the future of York's buses, that's just what First York boss Brian Asquith did. "We've come to a stage where we've really got to do something," he said.

The massive re-think over York's bus routes now underway follows a catalogue of complaints over buses that run late or never turn up, services cancelled or rescheduled at a moment's notice and timetables you'd need a Mensa certificate to understand.

I decided to find out how bad York's buses were. My mission? To get to Strensall from the city centre by bus - and from there to Monks Cross and back into the city.

First step was to find out from where to get the bus. I looked up the bus company's number in the phone book and dialled. "Welcome to First York," said a recorded voice. "Our customer services number has now changed. Please call 01904 622992 between 8am-5pm Monday to Friday." Wondering what I would have done if I'd needed to get to Strensall on a weekend I did so: and after getting the engaged tone eight times and fretting for 20 minutes, found myself speaking to the helpful lady from First York. It all sounded simple enough I thought as I headed for St Leonard's Place to catch the 3B. It was due at 11.08am. I got there early as passengers were filing onto a number 1 for Haxby. There was no number or destination shown on the back, and an elderly woman had to hobble all the way to the front of the bus and crane to look up before she could be sure where it was going.

But bang on 11.08 the 3B arrived. "Strensall, please," I said, climbing aboard. "£1.20 please," the driver said. The bus was warm, comfy and reasonably clean. There were 13 people in it, including me. I relaxed in the warmth and in 25 minutes I was in Strensall.

It was cold, so I treated myself to a hot beef sandwich in the Half Moon and then, fortified, stepped outside. Within three minutes a bus pulled up at the stop opposite. This is too good to be true, I thought, as I asked for a 65p ticket to Huntington Working Men's Club.

I decided to test the driver. "Can you tell me when we get there?" I asked. "I don't know it very well."

"If I remember," he said cheerfully. "It's the big building just past the school."

Again the bus was clean, with warm, cloth seats. We raced from Strensall to Huntington, and just as I was beginning to get worried about missing my stop, the driver sang out: "Working men's club!" Full marks so far, I thought, as I followed the First York woman's suggestion and walked around the corner into New Lane.

Then the problems began. There was a bus stop on the opposite side of the road: but that didn't seem the right direction. I dithered, then set off walking along the road. After 200 yards, opposite the Happy Shopper, I came to another stop. There was nothing to indicate where buses that stopped there went. Two men were waiting, shivering in the cold. I approached the older one. "Excuse me, does this bus go to Monks Cross?" I asked.

"Yes," he said: and stared at me sourly. I had been planning to ask him what he thought of York's buses, but thought better of it. The three of us stood there - hands in pockets, feet kicking at pebbles, avoiding looking at each other - and waited. And waited. And waited.

After 20 minutes Mr Grumpy gave up and stalked off. Five minutes later, after pacing a bit and kicking even harder at pebbles, the second passenger did likewise. Eventually, after more than 30 minutes of standing in the cold with no idea if a bus would ever turn up at all, one came. It was a Y28, it was shabby, it was empty - and it was going to Monks Cross.

For the second time that day I decided to test a driver, and offered him a £10 note for the 35p journey. I expected tantrums, but he took it well - exacting his revenge merely by giving me all my change in coins. I reached Monks Cross at 19 minutes past one. A Number 6 was due at 1.20pm, I noticed gratefully. It never turned up. As I was peering at a timetable an elderly woman, sitting on one of the bus shelter's uncomfortable seats, interrupted.

"Are you reading fairy tales?" she asked.

"Pardon?"

"Are you reading fairy tales?"

"Why, aren't the timetables very good?" I asked.

"Fairy tales!" she snorted. "A load of rubbish."

She was right, too. I waited 34 minutes for a bus from one of York's main shopping thoroughfares into the city centre: and when one finally came there were two at once. A number 6 and a 17.

A classic piece of timetabling.