Only Now Can It Be Told!

     Now that I’ve retired and stopped going to work and back via Ludham, I can at last tell you- the people of Ludham are mad! Their village is a secret Kamekazi training ground for road users of all kinds.
     Drivers regard signals as mere exercises, decorative lighting with no relevance to one’s intentions. A car coming up by the church to take the Catfield turn, will indicate left only when level with the pub corner, never before or maybe not at all.
     The parking outside Throwers has a signature tune- the Okey Kokey! They park one end in, one end out, so leaving room for others, then there’s lots more room for delivery van to park in the middle of the road. The church corner is no better. They must employ an attendant to make sure that any large van is in the outside trap to ensure maximum visibility obstruction.
     The pedestrians are home grown commandos. Devoted Mums trolley their little treasures out into the traffic like offerings to the gods. ‘Here’s little Angela. Mince her!’ Little old ladies lurk between parked cars, with jam rolls strapped round their bodies, and their shoppers packed with tinned goods for maximum damage. When a car approaches, they launch themselves and their knuklier trolley-heads, intent on slamming down into the tarmac in a welter of raspberry gore and sponge shrapnel. In fact, they are so eager that they invariably take off too soon, and crash land on the far pavement, yet another failed Kamekaze mission to celebrate.
     Pedestrian storm troopers always manage to look only the wrong way before attacking. Cyclists swoop or wobble like paratroopers down the crown of the road for a better view, until they collide with gossiping 4x4 drivers who have converged from opposite directions; staff officers, most likely.
     I’m well out of it. And I’m too smart to sign this letter!  I don’t need a fermenting blackcurrant charlotte, a month past its best before date, through my letterbox, thank you!

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