Derry drizzle had dampened Andreas and Ditta鈥檚 will
to shop. 鈥淲e didn鈥檛 move from Berlin for the
climate.鈥 Ditta uttered through clenched teeth.
Cold balls of water had started to pinball down goose-pimpled
skin. Hands freed from plastic bags worked like flippers
in the smalls of their backs, desperately trying to deflect
the icy water before it dripped into their underwear. The
Celtic style signage of a local pub nearly enticed them
indoors. Thoughts of hot whiskey entered both their minds
simultaneously, but there was no money left, so it was back
to the car and home.
In the car, Andreas鈥檚 face lit up 鈥淣ever worry
Ditta, I have just the thing for us when we get back 鈥
hotpot!鈥
鈥淚鈥檓 not taking any of that stuff and nor should
you, it makes your brain slow鈥..er.鈥
鈥淭hanks! I鈥檓 not talking that kind of pot, I鈥檓
talking potcheen.鈥
Ditta gave a hysterical laugh 鈥淓ven worse! That stuff
gets you blind drunk for three days, and when you do sober
up you鈥檙e still blind!鈥
鈥淣o, listen, this is a finest quality batch from my
secret supplier in the Sperrins. He has told me that in
low concentrations, say a half mixture with hot water and
dried elderberry flowers, it cures all known ills and tastes
lovely. It can even cure arthritis if rubbed neat onto joints;
knees, elbows, those kind of joints, not the other kind
of joints in case you were thinking again. It would be very
dangerous to rub potcheen on the other kind of joints -
given the naked flame stroke explosive liquid thing and
that.鈥
Staring forward with arms wrapped around her body, Ditta
shivered and replied, 鈥淪top your gibbering Andreas.
I鈥檒l try anything to warm up, but you can take the
first drink. Now crank this plastic toy up and let鈥檚
get going.鈥
Driving along the Derry road, the drizzle evolved into
steady rain and then heavy rain as they climbed into the
Sperrin Mountains. Andreas鈥檚 treasured East German
Trabant was just about coping with the downpour, which on
previous trips had forced them to stop and wait.
Andreas tried to raise Ditta鈥檚 spirits 鈥淭he
scenery here is beautiful.鈥
鈥淪ure, the mountains look lovely, if you鈥檙e
green, slimy and into eating flies.鈥 Ditta was still
too cold to feel good about mountains she couldn鈥檛
see. 鈥淟ets take the direct route home.鈥
Turning off the main road, they started along the now familiar
country roads. Their first encounter with these had turned
into a single-track nightmare. Over an hour of driving had
seen them back to the familiar Derry Road, but also pretty
much back to Derry. To make matters worse, the locals, from
boy racer to priest, seemed to enjoy driving outsiders off
the road. Ditta had thought this was some kind of game and
decided to call it road rugby.
In most cases it wasn鈥檛 that the locals wanted to
scare the 鈥榖e Jesus鈥 out of the unfamiliar,
it was just known to them that most of the roads were in
fact wide enough for two cars to pass (give or take the
odd wing mirror, light, side panel鈥︹...). Before
Andreas and Ditta had discovered road rugby, and the expertise
to compete with established players, last minute swerves
had landed them in roadside ditches at least twice. They
hadn鈥檛 made their first score yet, but were now confident
enough to keep an eye out for possible contenders.
鈥淚ncoming鈥 Ditta, in a robotic voice, alerted
Andreas鈥檚 to possible opposition. The car approaching
was big, shiny, possibly a Mercedes, and almost certainly
not a local vehicle.
鈥淪tay on Target.鈥 Ditta, with her hand cupped
to her face, was looking very seriously ahead.
鈥淭his is road rugby Ditta, not Star Wars.鈥
Ditta glanced at Andreas 鈥淪tay on Target!鈥
Andreas positioned their car at the edge of the road and
maintained a tame competition speed of about twenty kilometres
an hour. Drawing closer they could see that the other car
was indeed a Mercedes full of tourists. The driver, a man
in his early fifties, looked stressed. The front seat passenger,
a younger looking lady, held up a map that filled most of
the windscreen. There also appeared to be a couple in the
back of the car, who were merrily pointing out towards farm
houses and to what could be seen of the surrounding mountains.
As the cars neared, the Mercedes lady lowered the map, her
face showing increasing concern, paper crumpling to her
chest. The backseat passengers were now solely stabbing
fingers forwards. Unfortunately, determination and pleasure
were written all over the driver鈥檚 face. He made no
sign of moving aside and he didn鈥檛 look like he was
for stopping.
鈥淪tay on Target!鈥
鈥淒itta I鈥檓 not sure I like the loo鈥︹
Metres before impact Andreas gave in. He swerved the Trabant
into the ditch. They came to a sudden jerk of a stop; peaty
mud splattered across the windscreen.
鈥淒itta, are you OK?鈥
鈥淵our not a Jedi then?鈥
Andreas shook his head. Ditta looked disappointed.
The Mercedes drove on, maintaining its speed, the passengers
returning to their previous roles. Andreas had turned around
to watch the car disappear and had caught glimpses of the
driver鈥檚 gleeful face in his rear view mirror. 鈥淎ye,
big, stupid boys don鈥檛 need to know the rules to be
good at road rugby, they just run with the ball!鈥
Only one of the front wheels was in the ditch, but it needed
Andreas to stand on the back bumper to get the Trabant back
on the road. The fibreglass body of the car had saved it
from injury (which secretly pleased Andreas). They carried
on towards home, but with confidence dented they pulled
over and stopped for all other road rugby opponents, which
seemed to please the locals at least.
