My faith was restored that the world has not gone mad, well in the North Pennines at least, as I watched the oil delivery van stop halfway up the icy hill. The road was like a skating rink, steep and one which no driver of a large vehicle would attempt to climb. The house at the top was nearly out of heating oil and in dire need of a top up.
"Are you stuck?" I asked him.
"No, mate," he said with a look of disdain, shovel in hand. "Just waiting for the ice to melt. I've walked up the top of the hill and spread some grit down the road."
Sure enough in ten minutes he had driven his oil truck at top speed up the hill, turned around in a narrow muddy gap and was filling up the oil tank. The no nonsense good Samaritan passed me further down the road and gave me another disdainful look.
I made a mental note to keep my trap shut in future, and not question the bizarre or the impossible. As I drove off, the news came over the radio that Bernard Matthews, the turkey millionaire had died - and on Thanksgiving Day too when there is a turkey on most American tables.
Ask no questions.
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