I feel bad.
Because I gave these two Polish guys a lift out of the town and left them off at the garage. They were walking to Rasharkin! In this weather!
Aye. Suppose you should have ran them on out to Rasharkin.
Would you have done it?
You're far nicer than me.
To tell you the truth I wouldn't have picked them up in the first place. Two guys?
So tonight we're coming back from visiting Pearlie and we see one of the Polish guys. He's marching briskly along wearing a hi-vis vest and carrying a briefcase. Bert stops. He gets in. He's not that young - maybe fortyish.
Where's your friend tonight?
My friend he has bizzical.
Yes. Bizzical. I'm sorry my English is no good.
You walk this way every night?
Yes. Is ten miles. I work O'Kin's. Twelve hour. I work Tuesday, then three days. Not Saturday.
Coming into Cully we pass his friend, also wearing a hi-vis and peddling furiously away on a bizzical. Turns out they have acquired one bicycle between them and are taking it in turns to ride it to work. I immediately feel guilty about my rarely ridden mountain bike. Of course we take our fellow all the way to Rasharkin. I never realised before how far it is. When he gets out of the car he stumbles and nearly falls. Probably because he's so bloody tired.