Duwn Yonder

Now and again I will pick someone up who tries to catch me out by asking to go to a street with no houses on which very few people have heard of.
 A few local examples of these are Water St, Reservoir St, Thomson St, and Wesley Place. The only time I do get caught out funnily enough is when at the end of a long busy shift my mind will go blank when I am asked to go to somewhere I go everyday.
 The fun really starts when I get jobs in the outlying villages especially when I am given vague directions to a place with just a house name. I always find that even in the most remote hamlets when I stop to ask the way it is always a stranger to the area or the village idiot that I seem to pick.
 On one job a while back I picked a chap who looked sensible enough but when asked the way he replied “Ista gaan duwn yonder ginnel past meda wi sterks bur tat la left an gaas on abit lal git ta laurel hedge ista gaas onabit las lare. So that's what I did and I found it OK.
 But I kept laughing to myself after that a picture kept entering my head of this guy doing the voice directions in his Cumbrian dialect for the new fangled satellite navigation devices you get nowadays!

Red Lady

I had picked a couple up very early on the Sunday morning , they had obviously been out all night long and both looked the worse for wear. They were both going to Walney Island the guy to the north and the lady a couple miles away further to the south of the island.
 When we stopped briefly to let the guy out he leaned back into the car and said to the lady in a really very loud voice "thanks luv best sex I have ever had"
 He did use an explicit old Anglo Saxon term really but lets not go there.
 He then shut the door and walked off, she then of course had to sit there embarrassed  for the rest of the journey, she went very very red and swore very quietly but vehemently for the rest of the journey.