Thelma and Louise, Irish style
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?
Lesson for today
Never ask an old man with a beard and a pipe for directions!
I hope I never get lost up your neck of the woods!
Lesson for today
Bring a map.
It is no joke. It is impossible to spend more than five minutes in the village without being asked for directions. Usually it’s to somewhere about 20 miles away.
Why not wear a sign – Me No Talk!
Do you honestly think that would stop them?
Anyway, it’s more fun my way.
Next time I’m in the village please remind me not to ask you for directions to Gort or Belfast or Moscow.
If you are in my village and want directions to Gort, Belfast or Moscow then you deserve to end up lost in the bogs [or over a cliff].
Can anyone in this world read a map apart from myself?
How did I grow up with any shred of sanity left in me at all?!?! I’m a miracle of science.
What’s evil about that? If Yer Man drove too fast, then I have done the population a favour. If he drove carefully, them he will have enjoyed the view.
Who says you are sane anyway?