Originally posted by SueEllen
View Post
He's from Norfolk? 
Strange. This was a service station, on a main road, in the 1990s. So how was it possible for one of the employees to be unfamiliar with how a credit card worked? Plainly, he’d never seen one before which made me suggest, out loud, that Norfolk is not the sort of place where they point and say “Ooh look. A Mercedes AMG65SL Black”. Instead they said “Ooh look. A car”.
Of course, this made me the Antichrist in Britain’s vegetable garden, which is a shame because I like Norfolk. I like the way there are sex shops on every roundabout. I love the drainage system. I love the big skies. I go there every year to shoot pheasants in the face, and I like that too.
What I emphatically do not like, however, is the sheer impossibility of getting there. Over the years, I’ve tried every single route, but it always ends the same way. Doing 35mph behind a lorry carrying bits for a grain store or, more usually those Sainsbury’s internet shopping trucks which don’t say on the side – but should – “You Shop. We Get In Your Effing Way”.
Comment