It was back when austerity was reality in Denmark, not just a concept. I was just twelve years old then, and I was earning my first money delivering bread for the local baker - before school and after school.
One morning I was heading back to the bakery with more baskets that could safely be secured to the bakers bicycle. I had only one hand on the handlebar, the other busy holding on to the baskets on the front of the bike. I was riding downhill. There was a stone lying on the road, and I saw it too late.
The crash was unavoidable. I found myself lying in the middle of the road, while the heavy bakers bicycle had rocketed across the road to bang into a motor car parked on the other side. And not just any motor car. It was the fishmonger's brand new delivery van, appearing in the street for the first time just a few days ago. The name of his shop was marked in glossy letters on the side of it. Now it didn't look so fine anymore.
Some kind people in the street helped me get back on my feet and inquired with concern whether I was hurt. I wasn't. Meanwhile the fishmonger had come out from his shop. He wasn't pleased.
"You better go back to the baker and tell him what you have done", he said, his head all red with anger.
I did. I was trembling. Would he be very angry? It must be costly to have the car repaired. Would I not be paid my money? Would my parents have to pay for the repair of the car? Would I loose my job?
"Are you hurt?" the baker asked worriedly. Having ascertained that I wasn't, he laughed scornfully. "What a bloody idiot", he said. "What a bloody fool, parking just there in the trajectory of your bicycle. That serves him well."
The baker didn't like the fishmonger - not one bit.
His wife did - but that's another story.
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