“I am not a policeman”. It seemed clear enough and I repeated it. The lady seemed to speak enough English to understand, but it had no impact. There we were, in the heart of Cheltenham on Rodney Road near the language school just behind Lloyds Bank on the High Street. Perhaps on a Saturday morning a man and a horse both hi-vized up MUST be police. So, she went on trying to tell me about a burst watermain somewhere not far away. And I went on saying “I am sorry I am not a policeman” until as I rode away I said “I’m sorry I can’t help”.
I hope I have not ruined the image of the Gloucestershire Constabulary in the eyes of one foreign visitor. Strider behaved with total courtesy.
We had hacked fairly early right into town to visit a friend, and hacked back out again as the place got busy. He was fidgety while I chatted to Delscey and he was fidgety during a long wait at some traffic lights, but apart from that he was really great with only minor worry at things like the lifesize cutout of a butcher outside the butcher’s shop in Prestbury. Lots of urban riding, here we come.
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