a lesson on not loading sawlogs above the
pins on a timber wagon as they may fall off.
Apparently, you now have to sheet hay or
straw. Imagine trying to do that 30 ft up on a
windy day. I cannot begin to express my relief
when the time came to leave and I knew that I
could escape the tedium for another five years.
However, I did learn something.
To drive a small truck you now need four
cards, even though my entire working life I’ve
never carried any of them; a driving licence,
a Digi card, a CPC and finally a debit card
to pay all the fines to which you’re likely to
be subjected. New technology will record
and photograph our every move. There
will be strips on the road to get anyone for
overloading, cameras for phone use, seatbelts
and eating bananas and, coming soon, ‘noise
pollution fines’ supported by audio receptors.
Even a leisurely run out on a motor bike could
leave you penniless.
And then there’s the army of officials to
implement it all. The HSE, VOSA, Highways
England, the council, the police, spy satellites,
the North Koreans! Soon, everyone will be
employed to get the motorist. Welcome to the
small world of self-funded small business. If
it moves, then over-regulate it and fine it into
oblivion.
I now look at my father in a different light.
He was a very well-educated individual with
business was always conducted in very old
vehicles. Whether, as a war babe, austerity
was deeply engrained in his psychology, I
don’t know, but the use of old vehicles meant
he was constantly in conflict with authority.
He was fined on a regular basis, but never
paid. Knowing the law the way he did involved
an annual ritual. Accumulated non-paid fines
were turned into prison sentences. Once he
had about six two-week prison sentences
stacked up he presented himself to the police
station. Asking for them to be concurrent
meant reducing them to two instead of 12.
Good behaviour meant a further reduction
to one week. By handing yourself in at two
minutes to midnight on a Friday meant Friday
counted as day one. Saturday and Sunday
counted as two days each and so he could
be out on Tuesday morning, having served
12 weeks in three days! This meant he could
be back to work on Tuesday having only lost
one day. While in prison over the weekend
he was able to have dentistry, a haircut and
sometimes even clothing.
As a child, I was completely unaware of
where he was, as my mother was far too
embarrassed to tell us and I only learned of
this after his death. While I have no intention
of following his example and cannot condone
his actions, it does make me wonder if he was
ahead of his time.degrees in law and economics, but spent the
bulk of his life driving old trucks. After a short
career in the police, where he spent some
time as a motorbike display rider (a dream
job), he turned his back on the public sector
and spent the rest of his life hauling anything
and everything. For whatever reasons, this