A placeholder till I can take a pic myself. Salisbury high street. LOUISE J. RAYNER

I walk under a bridge to get to the station each morning and once very early I ran into a guy who pointed back the way he came and grumbled “Bloody Polish!”

He was all moon eyed and jittery but I looked back there to see what he was pointing at and said “Sorry?” In that unhelpful British way I’ve adopted. He gave me a look of disgust and said it again slower. “Bloody….Polish!” then wandered on over to the bus stop on the corner.

The only thing of note along his direction was the Poultry Cross marking the 15th century location of the town market. Or part of it anyway. There useta be more than one including a ‘cheese cross’ so I don’t know what the old boy was going on about.