rejuvenatedThe meaning of some signs was pretty obvious, but they were still fun to misinterpret:
Dancing cars, maybe? Then there's the dictatorial “Drying of trousers on your car aerial is strictly forbidden”:
We never did see a plane land on the road in front of us:
Nor were we there in time for the annual motor-lemming suicidal migration:
And we were driving a Peugot, so this one didn’t apply:
There were some, though, that had us scratching our heads and searching the internet for answers, like the one warning of Evel Kneivel ahead:
And the sign encountered in a small village, advising that pedophiles lived there:
I couldn’t find a picture of one of my favourite signs. Found mostly in small villages, it warns of buildings overhanging the road ahead. In one village, one of these signs sported a plaintive handwritten note begging vehicles to “Mind my roof!”
And at Wallsend, at the start of a nature track, there was a sign indicating via symbols that it was suitable for walkers, bicyclists and… egg and spoon races? Never did figure that one out….
I did love the clever Cornish cows, who not only knew to cross at the lights, but had figured out how to get their tiny pointed hooves up to press the button:
There was also an assortment of signs warning of deer, ducks and frogs; quite a change from our kangaroos and wombats at home.
I’ll not forget my amazement on our first day out from London, when driving between Cambridge and Nottingham we came to a sign warning that queues were likely. “What are they on about,” I thought, “we’re miles from anywhere, driving through the countryside, and… oh will you look at that, two lanes of stop.” In Australia there’s no such courtesy, unless you’re actually in a major city.
Which reminds me… we were using the cd player in the car a lot, and every time there was a traffic report on the radio the cd would automatically fade out so we could hear the traffic report. That was pretty damn amazing.
