Recognising a true Knight of the Road

Driving home from work recently in a rather nice Jaguar with substantial low-profile tyres, I started to sneeze.

And I could not stop.

My eyes were streaming and I simply could not see. Highly dangerous.

I was on a country road and desperate to find a place to pull over. I did so near Bourton church, close to Much Wenlock.

I swung the car round to point back towards the road and stopped to wipe my face and clear away the mascara running down my cheeks.

Once done and the sneezing ceased . . . I could not get going again.

The land was very muddy and the tyres simply sank into the soft ground.

A call to the RAC was in order but I did not have my membership card, and they won't come out if you don't have it. So to call a friend and end up with egg on my face.

But then a Nissan pick-up pulled up and the driver offered to help. Stephen (or it might by Steven) who lives nearby pulled out a tow rope and quickly pulled me clear.

He wouldn't even accept a note to buy himself a drink, shrugging it off and saying he was only too glad to help.

Now that's a true Knight of the Road.