Years ago I went to Baltic Wharf on Wallasea Island in Essex (anyone who’s been there knows what a weird and wonderful place it is). I’d never been there before so was concentrating as I drove up to the entrance, overtaking what I thought were about 20 artics parked up. Went into the office and gave the bloke my collection reference. He asked me if I was aware I’d just driven to the front of the queue. Oh right, I said, I’ll join the queue. But then another bloke said “What was that reference, Drive? I’ve just dug all that out and I could do with it out of the way. Pull into crew yard 2.”
I was picking up timber on a flat - it didn’t need sheeting so threw half a dozen straps over it, got my paperwork - and then had to run the gauntlet of some fierce-looking and understandably ■■■■■■■■■■ drivers. If looks could have killed…