"Nothing to do with me, mate," said the road repairer, pointing his finger accusingly at his colleague.
"It was 'im."
The colleague scowled, removed his baseball cap and scratched his head while he figured out how to unblock the road. He had tried to take his transit van and towed water bowser up a steep hill. It had become grounded and the result was that the road was now blocked and looked likely to be blocked for some time.
After a little early morning sunbathing, I did manage to squeeze by. I inched past as my wing mirror brushed through the trees. You will remember I have a poor record when it comes to bus mirrors and trees.
The words of the council official in the Highways Department, who I rang last week, reverberated around my head: "Don't blame me, mate. It's not my fault all the trees are overgrown on the roads. Cuts, mate. Cuts. I only have one contracted tree surgeon for the whole of the south of the county."
As I passed the van I crashed into a deep hole in the road. I cursed the council's superhero cartoon character - Pothole Pete who promised much if you rang his 24 hour hotline. At least he's honest and never tries to pass the buck. He just doesn't speak.
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