I was frightened when I saw this sign. I needed to use a ferry to reach Beatrix Potter’s home in England’s Lake District, and I knew I didn’t have the correct change, so what were my options? I couldn’t turn around, I was boxed in on a narrow one-way road with cars stacked up behind me. More cars in front of me, and on both sides were steep wooded ravines that went down to the water. I was stuck.
Four pounds thirty pence seemed like an oddball price requiring correct change. Was this some kind of ruse to squeeze out and extra 70 pence from a five-pound note? What if all you had were ten or twenties? … that’s a huge tip. Or worse, was it a scam with the tow truck who pulled your car out of the lake for not having the correct change? Panic was beginning to creep in.
But, no worries. The friendly ticket master accepted my five-pound note, cheerfully returned 70 pence and wished me a happy day. I drove onto the ferry with a renewed sense of respect for the overly polite Brits and felt guilty about the evil thoughts that originally crossed my mind.
Thought for the Day: Wise men talk when they have something to say, fools talk when they have to say something. Plato