Back in the days when I 'trade plating' (hitching across the country between delivering vehicles), there were certain groups of people I knew that I could rely on for lifts and others that would never stop to help me. For example, the 'kiss of death' when you're standing by the side of the road, in the pouring rain, hoping for a lift is the sight of a clerical collar. Hundreds of priests and vicars (no doubt on their way to preach about loving thy neighbour or being a good Samaritan) drove straight past me. However the one group that ALWAYS stopped and offered me a lift (often going well out of their way to do so and invariably offering me food and drink too) was Irish travellers.
The travellers who cut back the bushes in my garden from time to time do an excellent job and are always polite and courteous. (Yes, I have to make sure that I've knocked them down quite a bit on price before they start but I don't mind that; I simply admire their business acumen).
Just how many travellers do you actually know, Deskdiary?