VeeDub
Guest
I had the rather dubious privilege of being parked-up on Gatford Wop Services the other evening (in my alter-ego Wilder) and, having noticed that the previously forecast 'Bright Intervals' (i.e. Lightning) had passed over - and that it now had the makings of a reasonably pleasant Summers' Evening outside - rummaged about in the Top Bunk and retrieved the trusty Camper Chair (replete with a now-rusty can of Fosters Paint Thinners from ... Oh, I don't know ... whenever the last time it was that the Sun shone down on this Sceptred Isle of ours).
I assumed the usual 'Seated MeerKat' pose next to my Truckythingy, studied the local 'Wildlife' that inhabited my immediate Parking Area and was mightily heartened to observe the usual mish-mash of Baffled Brits, Confused Commuters and Cu Cu Cu Cu Cu Cu Cu Confused Caravanners. (Apologies for the Stammer - Apparently it is something to do with a traumatic childhood experience in Cu Cu Cu Cu Cu Cu Cu Cleethorpes! lol.
'All is well in the World' I thought as I watched an esrtwhile 'Wilder' park next to the Trees and throw a camouflage tarpaulin over his converted Mister Whippy Van... (just a hint mate - if you are reading this - They will ALWAYS find you if you don't remember to turn the chimes OFF!" lol), ... only to have my idyll shattered by the arrival of a rather large, French-Plated, Re Re Re Re Re Re Re Renault Magnum in the previously empty parking space next to mine. "Oh Well" thinks I, "another sleepless night of Edith Piaf at full blast" when - out of the Cab - slides a cherubic-faced French Youth who bids me a 'Good Evening' in near perfect English and proceeds to get his stool and Mobile Kitchen out of the side pod on his trailer.
I looked at his attire with quiet envy; Designer 'Shades' atop a perfectly couiffeured head, trendy T-Shirt, impeccably tailored shorts... and Sandals that would grace the sands of St.Trop without a hint of embarrassment. My gaze wandered down to my own 'Corporate Image' ... Horse-Hair sweatshirt, shorts (which were actually long trousers once upon a time - but which have now been through too many boil-washes), and the 'De Riguer' steel toe-capped boots that a Deep-Sea Diver would probably envy.
I think that he was about half-way through preparing Duck a l'Orange (or something equally exotic) for himself when the po-faced, Hi-Viz clad, figure of 'Blakey' materialised from out of thin air.
"Oi!" "You!" "Froggy!". I admired his opening Gambit - and made a mental note to NEVER curse a member of the Polizei ever again. "It'll costya faw'een quid..." (never did quite master how to write a glottal stop - apologies if it spoils the mimicry), "...if you wanna stop 'ere for the night!" I looked at the French Driver and winced as the immortal phrase "I 'ate You Butler" flashed through my mind.
To his credit (and my amazement) the young French Driver stood up from his soon-to-be Culinary masterpiece, gave a typically Gallic shrug and walked to the back of his trailer - whereupon he proceeded to tap out a series of knocks on the back door. After several minutes (and an interminable amount of muffled conversations from within the trailer), the back doors were opened and a hand proffered a quantity of coins and notes.
After a lot of to-ing and fro-ing with his wallet and calculator he handed the dumbstruck 'Blakey' his payment in assorted Euros ... and got his overnight parking receipt in return.
Watching him return to the task of preparing his Evening Meal I whistled a quiet sign of approval... and got a very telling response. "For you Anglais eet is so cheep. For us - eet is getting more expenseev every time!"
I bade him Bon Soir, made my excuses - and left him and his cargo to the Winds of Fate.
I recall hearing a recent interview with the Secretary of State on Radio 4 about how our Border defences are now second-to-none in the World that we live in .... ????
Hmmmmm .....
I assumed the usual 'Seated MeerKat' pose next to my Truckythingy, studied the local 'Wildlife' that inhabited my immediate Parking Area and was mightily heartened to observe the usual mish-mash of Baffled Brits, Confused Commuters and Cu Cu Cu Cu Cu Cu Cu Confused Caravanners. (Apologies for the Stammer - Apparently it is something to do with a traumatic childhood experience in Cu Cu Cu Cu Cu Cu Cu Cleethorpes! lol.
'All is well in the World' I thought as I watched an esrtwhile 'Wilder' park next to the Trees and throw a camouflage tarpaulin over his converted Mister Whippy Van... (just a hint mate - if you are reading this - They will ALWAYS find you if you don't remember to turn the chimes OFF!" lol), ... only to have my idyll shattered by the arrival of a rather large, French-Plated, Re Re Re Re Re Re Re Renault Magnum in the previously empty parking space next to mine. "Oh Well" thinks I, "another sleepless night of Edith Piaf at full blast" when - out of the Cab - slides a cherubic-faced French Youth who bids me a 'Good Evening' in near perfect English and proceeds to get his stool and Mobile Kitchen out of the side pod on his trailer.
I looked at his attire with quiet envy; Designer 'Shades' atop a perfectly couiffeured head, trendy T-Shirt, impeccably tailored shorts... and Sandals that would grace the sands of St.Trop without a hint of embarrassment. My gaze wandered down to my own 'Corporate Image' ... Horse-Hair sweatshirt, shorts (which were actually long trousers once upon a time - but which have now been through too many boil-washes), and the 'De Riguer' steel toe-capped boots that a Deep-Sea Diver would probably envy.
I think that he was about half-way through preparing Duck a l'Orange (or something equally exotic) for himself when the po-faced, Hi-Viz clad, figure of 'Blakey' materialised from out of thin air.
"Oi!" "You!" "Froggy!". I admired his opening Gambit - and made a mental note to NEVER curse a member of the Polizei ever again. "It'll costya faw'een quid..." (never did quite master how to write a glottal stop - apologies if it spoils the mimicry), "...if you wanna stop 'ere for the night!" I looked at the French Driver and winced as the immortal phrase "I 'ate You Butler" flashed through my mind.
To his credit (and my amazement) the young French Driver stood up from his soon-to-be Culinary masterpiece, gave a typically Gallic shrug and walked to the back of his trailer - whereupon he proceeded to tap out a series of knocks on the back door. After several minutes (and an interminable amount of muffled conversations from within the trailer), the back doors were opened and a hand proffered a quantity of coins and notes.
After a lot of to-ing and fro-ing with his wallet and calculator he handed the dumbstruck 'Blakey' his payment in assorted Euros ... and got his overnight parking receipt in return.
Watching him return to the task of preparing his Evening Meal I whistled a quiet sign of approval... and got a very telling response. "For you Anglais eet is so cheep. For us - eet is getting more expenseev every time!"
I bade him Bon Soir, made my excuses - and left him and his cargo to the Winds of Fate.
I recall hearing a recent interview with the Secretary of State on Radio 4 about how our Border defences are now second-to-none in the World that we live in .... ????
Hmmmmm .....