|Lithuanian truck stuck on the corner.|
Except that we all knew that he would not be able to get through because the street was too narrow.
The camaraderie within our little group of cyclists is one aspect which I find quite heart warming. So whilst three of us stayed to help the truck driver, the other four beetled off to the next pub and ate their lunches and drank their beer whilst we tried to solve the problem.
How do you convince a Lithuanian truck driver that he should turn around and go back? Dead easy. We had all been immigration officers at a time when you were supposed to be proficient in foreign languages.
"Tony," said I, "You speak Lithuanian don't you?" He nodded. "Well tell him to turn his truck around."
The driver was completely unphased by the fact that he was being addressed in his own language in the middle of a small Kentish village.
|Lithuanian truck being reversed up the road.|
The point of this little yarn is not to evince our beneficence, but rather to observe that, now that the Home Office does not encourage its border control staff to learn foreign languages, this kind of serendipitous encounter, already of an extreme rarity, will become extinct.
And the truck will stay stuck. Probably with you behind it.