I have had literally no contact (that I know of) of gypsies, and am grateful for all those posting horror stories about them. If one were to approach me, asking me to buy lucky heather, or perhaps re-pave my drive, I now know to run to the hills, with my arms flailing above my head.
dive buddy's story reminds me of a time back in the 70s when my Chopper (best bike ever made) was nicked by a family who were predominantly ginger. We got it back, but to this day I am very wary of redheads.
This is why my mother slammed the door in Cilla's face when she tried to do an episode of 'Surprise Surprise' on our estate.
You can't trust 'em my dad said...