I’m driving up to a house on a side road up the East Coast. There are two approaches to the place, both full of potholes. One approach can take two-way traffic, but it’s a long route. The other approach is a very narrow track, bush on either side, wide enough for only one car, but it’s much shorter and fewer potholes, so I head for that one. As I turn in, there is a car parked in the middle of the track blocking the way. There’s somebody sitting in the car but he doesn’t move a muscle. I should have blown my horn, right? Instead, I backed up, turned around and went back through the longer route. My wife says, “Some people are so inconsiderate, eh?”
That episode crystallized in my mind one of the things I’ve noticed living in Guyana again. It may not strike someone coming down here
