Yesterday evening on returning from the pub (1 pint, honest) where I'd gone to meet a cheese maker who'd promised me some free blue, I came across a car with its flashers flashing and a chap standing looking imploring with his hand up. The car in front of me just passed on by and I could see a car further up the road who'd obviously also not stopped. So I pulled up.
He came over and asked if my phone had signal. I guesed, and later conversation confirmed, that he was on O2. No chance of him getting a signal anywhere around here.
He'd had a blow out and didn't have whatever tool was required to remove the anti theft wheel but. So I passed him my phone and asked him to be as brief as possible as I was payg.
He phoned his road service people and then, held on and then, held on some more, repeat. I'm wandering around the road side thinking that I should have phoned Mrs. B first. Eventually he starts talking to someone. Hurrah! He explains the problem and then looks perplexed. I must have only had a couple of quid credit left as it had just run out. On dear. I wasn't sure of how I could have been of any more help other than taking 4 miles down the lanes to use our land line. I was just about to offer him this when my phone rang. Was it Mrs. B to say " Your dinner's in the dog"? No, the road side assistance people had noted my number and had called back. Good for them.
He manages to tell them the number of the B road we're on thanks to his sat nav, but when asked exactly where he passes the phone to me. Luckily, I can spell Llanfihangel-ar-Arth and so they found it.
I then have to hang around to wait for a local (not very local) breakdown truck operator to call.
I've been with the guy over an hour and have no way of calling Mrs B to explain why I'm not back. So as soon as I was happy that someone was on the way I left him to it to it, warning him that he may be in for a very long wait.
Mrs B had, in fact, eaten dinner alone. :-(