Grockle Bridge

Oh no its Grockle bridge time again. Approach with dread all ye who wish to enter the village - for cross the bridge you must. Fear not the troll that lurked under the bridge in times gone by. But shake with sheer dread as Grockle Bridge spreads its deadly tentacles in the warming sun . . . . once again.

The drive by Grockles in their glass, wheeled palaces have arrived. The bridge a magnet for their kind. Each delivery doomed for precisely twenty minutes to meander in their own true, glass eyed way on the strip that is Grockle Bridge. They fear not cars - these they know can cause them no harm . . . For they are The Grockles and well they stand their ground. Fierce is the scowl of a Grockle should, in a foolish moment you hoot, or mutter excuse me. The Grockles know who they are and you matter not a jot.

Drive with mute apology all locals who must cross Grockle bridge. Hit not the dog out on long slack lead. Ne'er disturb the flash of the camera bright, nor halt the hum of the cam corder – these be tasks of great importance and you and your daily life will be considered not.

But what is this that approaches the bridge – so close, so close, I am almost there. Almost clear to the other side. Aggghhhh no tis the Grockle Home on wheels. Forthrightly it barges onto the bridge scattering foot bound, lesser Grockles far and wide, superior in its path, and then before me it glides to a smug, sniggering halt. Back must I go, for a Grockle home in tow, must not, cannot be denied. Back through the scowling Grockles – twice have I bothered them now. Back, back all of us, all the cars gathered for the dreaded course, back we all must go.

Grockle home sails past. 4x4 in the lead, caravan bumping behind. Grockle hands remain clamped tightly on the steering wheel, eyes forthrightly front. No thank you wave expected, non given.

Back onto Grockle bridge, once more into the fray dear friends. Drive with gentle care. Berludy, berludy hell now a berludy lorry has driven onto the bridge. Berludy hell he's not getting away with that.

'OY you fek off. Yes you. No see, see, see me, I'm getting out of my car you burger. Engine off, look, and see these keys, yes take a good look . . over the bridge. Oh yes, yes in the river . . if you don't back up . . . you . . . you . . .you bar steward you. Yes in the drink . . now . . . .Oh yes I do mean it.'

Oppps, berludy hell I nearly did as well!

'An you 'n' all.' Phew and he's doing it, he's backing up. Quick, Quick eyes down over the berludy bridge quick, bright red face, sheepish eyes, no sympathy from the Grockles. Got to get tobacco, wine and mushrooms . . . . . . and yes more coffee . . lots of coffee this is only Easter and I have to brave Grockle Bridge several times a week from now on until November. . . . . . AND I still have to find somewhere to park . . . . .