The Troll on the Trail

I decided to be “The Troll of The Bridge” at an awkward moment…

Somewhere between Newport and Sandown, soaked to the skin and starting to squelch due to the persistent rain, I found myself on a footbridge.

Naturally, this seemed like the perfect moment to pretend to be a bridge troll. I mean, why wouldn’t you? Perfectly normal behaviour…

Just as I adopted the classic crouch and prepared to yell something cryptic about passage fees and riddles, two cyclists rounded the bend. I panicked and shouted the first thing that came to mind:

“Bit damp today, isn’t it?”
“Erm, yeah. Sort of. A bit,” one replied, with the wary tone of someone encountering a woodland spirit they didn’t want to offend.

They cycled off quickly, giving me a wide berth. Possibly to avoid my weather-based curses. Possibly just because I looked like a lunatic.

Either way, I am the unofficial (and soggy) troll of the trail.