Years ago there was a Chinese restaurant opposite the Court House on Main Street. The place served a passable sweet and sour but the chow mein was nothing much to write home about - which of course they didn't. Main Street has been a one-way-street for as long as most people can remember and traffic is only allowed from Linenhall Street down Main Street to the bottom of the town.

Now, in those days every youngster didn't yet drive a car and there were some evenings when you would see no traffic at all - for minutes at a time. Meg and I were wandering home one pleasant evening, there was no traffic and the rain had stopped, when we noticed a car - a big camper with a German registration number driving up Main Street in the wrong way. Before there was a chance of an accident, the car indicated left and parked outside the Chinese restaurant. Obviously the tourists had felt the pangs of hunger and gone to get some food in the most direct way possible - never noticing the one way sign.

We went home, but when we discussed the experience we started to worry. What if the Germans came out of the restaurant and continued their journey in the Derry direction? They would drive around the blind corner into Linenhall Street and were almost certain to collide with one or more cars. Not only might they get seriously hurt but this would also be the complete waste of a succulent sweet and sour whatever.

"We'll go down and warn them" said I.

"What if they leave in the meantime and are all dead when we arrive?" asked Meg.

There was nothing for it - we raced for the phone. The conversation that followed was slightly strange.

"'Indisposed Panda' Restaurant" said a heavily accented Cantonese voice, "Please place your order."

"Is there a German family sitting at one of your tables?"

There was a moment of astonished silence. Then: "Yes, a German gentleman is sitting right here!"

"Could you please asked him to come to the telephone? I would like to talk to him".

I heard vanishing footsteps and the puzzled murmur of a conversation that featured two people discussing a situation neither had expected. The two different accents would have made their little chat even weirder than it was already.

I felt sorry for my unknown compatriot. The poor chap had driven hundreds of miles along dusty roads until he finally ended up in Limavady, where he didn't know a soul. There are not many roadside restaurants in Ulster and when Herr Müller spotted the 'Indisposed Panda' he must have thanked his lucky stars. He managed to order a meal for himself and his family and was tucking in when the waiter informed him - in an accent several thousand miles further East than his own - that he was wanted on the phone.

What the poor man must have thought I can only imagine, but the wondrous inflection of his enquiring: "Ja???...???" when he finally came to the telephone was worth all the trouble.

I explained the situation and all lived happily ever after, but that "Ja???...???" still rings in my ears.