Last week came the
threatening letter, then yesterday some intimidating signs appeared, and today
the heavy mob moved in, sealing off the village and unleashing their infernal
machines – tarmac scrapers, tar layers, road-stone lorries, road rollers,
sweepers and even a caravan – to put down the dreaded surface dressing; it was
time to ship out or be penned in all day, so I spent the day driving a lap of
Tees Valley picking off a few jobs, with leisurely breaks to top up on food,
drink, petrol, reading matter and cash, so that by the time I returned they
were gone leaving just a surfeit of loose chippings and an absence of white lines in
their wake.
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