Roadworks

I distrust traffic controllers at roadworks. Resembling traffic lights without sensors, one stop-signals a queue of cars in a standstill, while the counterpart continues go-signaling an empty lane.

Hundreds of meters of winding, narrow, mountainous roadside between our house and childrens' school has been dug up.

I drove in early afternoon's light traffic. A controller stood on my lane, signaling I should drive on down the mountain using the oncoming lane.

Continuing down on the wrong side, past a sharp curve, untrusting, I changed lanes, and steered closer to the cones and workmen, while avoiding collisions.

Coming round a sharp blind bend, I saw the counterpart-controller had freed the oncoming cars to drive up the lane I was supposed to use. Maybe it was time for his break. He'd thrown the sign on the hillside, disregarding the danger he'd caused. It seemed he'd switched off abruptly - like a traffic light at the start of a powercut, oblivious of the traffic.

I barely had time to honk in protest before driving past the next bend and out of sight.