Out of the mouths of babes

WHEN the first severn Bridge was built, I used to travel over it fairly often and sometimes took my son Adrian, then aged five, with me. one day we were pulling away from the booth after I’d paid the toll and my son said: ‘What’s the name of that man, dad?’ ‘I haven’t the faintest idea,’ I replied. ‘oh,’ he said. ‘I thought you knew him because you always shake hands.’ B. Rossiter, Liskeard, Cornwall.