R's rue: 08/30/22

Gilroyd

Ben Bank Farm

This morning, I was disturbed from my slumbers by a telephone call from South Africa. Yes - it was "Motorway" calling once again. They had received the extra photos and they wanted to know if I wished to proceed with the sale of the van. "Yes", I said.

Ten minutes later they phoned back. Where was the van service history? I pointed out that I had dealt with this question before and had only e-mailed them on Sunday to confirm that the van has an incomplete service history. "Oh, no problem!" said the woman at the other end of the line. "You still want to go ahead with the sale?"

Ten minutes later they phoned back. Is it my name on the V5C document proving ownership? "Yes it is". Did I say that the van belonged to my deceased brother? "Yes it did". Have you got a copy of the death certificate and the will? "There is no will and why do you want these documents anyway as I am now the official registered keeper of the vehicle?"

In this area The Trans Pennine Trail follows the course of an old railway

I was put on hold for five minutes, listening to jarring music and then they came back to me to say that the sale was off. They would not proceed. At this point I should say that in my very first contact with this organisation I had explained carefully the circumstances surrounding the van's sale.

It has been two weeks of exasperation and annoyance and now I am back to square one. I told the "Motorway" lady in Johannesburg or Cape Town or where ever it might be that the decision was absurd and they had greatly inconvenienced me these past two weeks. But no doubt my words fell on deaf ears.

It was a nice morning but by the time I got to Dodworth Green near Barnsley, the sky was clouding over.

On The Trans Pennine Trail approaching Hound Hill I met a man with a walking stick. He was smoking a cigarette and wearing a T-shirt bearing the legend "ZERO GIVEN" and the image of a fox in the middle. Apparently it's to send a clear negative message to street beggars. He seemed quite obsessed with these people and directed a ton of anger their way. I wondered why that bad feeling wasn't targeted elsewhere - to the doors of our political leaders for example.

He was born in the same year as me. He told me he had a lot of pain his legs because of blood flow and blood pressure problems. He had had two or three operations and he further told me that if things don't improve, he will have to have both legs amputated.

I told him that my destination was a civil war tower on Hound Hill Lane, erected by a local landowner and royalist - Richard Elmhirst. My new best friend said he had never heard of it though he lives less than a mile from the tower in nearby Gilroyd. Anyway, he walked along there with me, pausing two or three times for breath. I don't suppose I will ever see him again.