DITHERING
From the position of my motorbike, I could see down the street opposite the junction. The queue now stretched way down, a long distance past the church where a buzzing throng of new hats, best suits and shiny shoes had assembled in anticipation. Standing in a huddle in front of the lychgate I could make out four guys wearing the same outfits looking particularly stressed. One glanced right, along the line of stalled traffic. He could see maybe one hundred yards then a sharp bend shut out the chaos. Checking h is watch, he said something to one of the others who pulled out what I assumed was a phone.