Some time ago whilst travelling in the wilder south east regions I came across a strange man, a rough sort who growled and gruffed in an odd dialect which seemed to be mainly based on the words f***ing & sh*t . Taking pity on him I tried to help him sort out his collection of woolen beany hats but there were so many
He said that he thought I had an honest face (and car) & if I "saw him alright" he would give me something golden. I gave him enough for a bottle of strong cider & a packet of polos to freshen his breath . In return he unfolded one of his wooley hats and gave me 4 golden discs which I still have to this day. Feeling kind & that in some way I had formed a bond I gave him the half eaten packet of cheese & onion crisps that had been in my glovebox for about 3 years. He seemed overcome & speachless as I drove away. I had not realised that he was disabled but I could clearly see in my rear view mirror, as he waved me farewell, that he could only use one finger on one hand and two on the other
I often wonder what happened to that strange creature , half man , half socket set
