I went down to the village yesterday for a coffee.

I could have had one at home but Herself wanted to go shopping, so Sandy and I sat in the rain and the hot sun [we have very strange weather here] and watched the world go by.

The village was packed with people looking for directions.

Do these knob-heads decide “Oh look – it’s a nice day. Let’s go out and get lost”? Once they have decided where they are going, why can’t they work out how to get there? The local shopkeepers spend more time giving directions than they do doing trade.

As you probably know, I get my revenge by sending them all up to the bogs where they can get totally lost.

Yesterday though, I was nearly caught out. I was stopped by a bloke driving a souped up Golf that had purple lights underneath and a noise like Boing on full take-off power. I hate them. But this bloke wanted to know the way to the bogs! I had to think quickly.

“Carry on this road,” says I ” and take the fourth turn to the right. You can’t miss it. It has an old ruined cottage on the corner”.

He thanked me and roared off like he was contesting the Round Ireland Rally.

That road I directed him to is a nice little road. It is quite straight for a bit, and then there is a slight bend. Immediately past that bend the road ends suddenly at the top of a two hundred foot cliff into a quarry. There’s no warning. You’ve seen “Thelma and Louise”? Like that!

I wonder if he stopped in time?