Bristol to St Clears via St Tropez

"You Welsh people live in some strange places" said the delivery driver’s mate with a Bristol burr, as I guided him via mobile phone from St Clears to Cefnmeurig. He needed constant reassurance that they were on the right road and became very alarmed when the houses disappeared. " We’re in a kind of… desert area now" he said, "We call them fields around here" I replied. All was going well until they reached the top of the track and he declared that they couldn’t go any further. " It’s too narrow, love" he said. " It’ll be fine" I said, " Jump out and have a look, if you are worried, and you’ll see that those long green stringy things bend when you touch them. Your lorry wont be damaged!" " I can’t do that!" he replied "I’ve got shorts on" (It was a sub-zero winter’s day). So I gave up on the coaxing and played dirty by attempting to dent his male ego "Well, everyone else has managed it" I said sternly. I never heard from them again, they were off down the lane and delivered the goods to the men on site. However, they must have been so tramatised by the experience, they unloaded someone else's bathroom by mistake and had to come back again the next week to collect it.