I’m sure, like me, several children – and a few adults – have asked you, ‘Where do you get your ideas from?’ I know some authors have said it’s the question they most expect and least know how to answer. I’d be interested to know if, as I do, you feel that one of several ways we snatch onto possible ideas is by watching out in our daily lives for interesting incidents, events and situations in our daily lives. One possible consequence of that might be that we notice much around us that doesn’t necessarily spark off an idea – at least straightaway – but which we maybe consider in more depth than others might do. In this case, I want to describe a few things I’ve observed which struck me as particularly silly.
It hadn’t occurred
to me before until I began writing this, that all of what I’m going to describe
were observed on, or by roadways. I’ve mentioned before that my wife and I
currently live in a small rural town in France (though we’re seriously thinking
of moving back to the north of England after this year’s unending sequence of
heatwaves – we realise that moving to the south would be a living example of
the adage about moving from the frying pan into the fire).
A windy
road, barely wide enough for two cars to pass each other, stretches about five
miles to the next town. Halfway along that road, just before two right-angled
bends, is a sign indicating that lorries larger than a certain size should not
use this road. There are no other signs like this anywhere along this road,
i.e. at the beginning of the road at either end, offering said lorries the
chance to re-route. Also, the sign only faces one way, so drivers coming the
opposite way may only ever see the sign in their rear-view mirror. As I’ve intimated
the road is so narrow and twisted that even if a driver considered honouring
the restriction, it would be nigh on impossible for him or her to turn their
vehicle around, leaving reversing their lorry nearly three miles backwards
along a windy road as the only remaining option.
Ultimately
this explains why we have to drive very carefully along this road, as regularly
lorries patently far to large to drive on the road bear down on us and I have
to drive as close to our edge as possible, while avoiding ending up in the deep
drainage ditches dug alongside the road, only a foot or so away from each side.
How we laugh at the ridiculousness of the sign at these stimulating moments…
But roadside
stupidity isn’t confined to France. Years ago, I was driving on a hill road
between Wakefield and Huddersfield and came to a small roundabout at what in
the past had probably been a crossroads. The roundabout was grassed and rose
gently towards the centre, like a small mound. Two signs had been placed near
its peak. Both simply read, ‘Diversion’. One pointed to the right, the other to
the left, creating a completely uninformative diversion lottery. There had been
no signs about roadworks, or other obstructions coming up to this point –
presumably there should have been two -
and as it happens none after as I continued on my way, in that sense ignoring
the signs. I particularly couldn’t help wondering about the person who set up
the second sign. The first was hardly helpful, or particularly informative
but surely the person putting up the second one must have realised the implications
of the conundrum they were setting up for me and my fellow drivers? Too much to
explain to an unsympathetic supervisor perhaps…
Meanwhile,
back in France, a country famous for encouraging cycling, they have been
setting aside a section of several roads, on both sides, for cyclists. These
areas demarcated by thick broken white lines marked along the road, with
regular images of cycles painted in the lanes themselves. All very good and righteous
of course – at least in theory. The only problem is that the space left between
them available for cars and other vehicles on some of the roads where this has
been done, is far too narrow for them to pass without colliding virtually
head-on. Another windy road near us is
an example. Drivers have to decide between avoiding the cycle lane areas and
facing the danger of colliding with a vehicle doing the same thing coming the
other way, as we both drive around a curve in the road, or drive in the cycle
lane in which cyclists assume themselves free of danger from vehicles and where,
by doing so, we might be penalised by the authorities. I also feel that the
massive cost, time and effort it took to set out these impractical zones would
have been better spent on setting up regular signs reminding drivers to watch
out for cyclists. (Though arguably there should be also be signs reminding
cyclists to wear bright clothing and helmets – I don’t know if it’s the same in
the UK these days but it seems half the cyclists in France don’t consider a
journey without wearing the dullest colour clothing on the dullest coloured
bikes, usually without a helmet.)
I find the
French word for pavement quite sweet – it’s ‘trottoir’ – making is sound as
though you should trot along them! However, certainly in our neck of the woods,
they only have a cursory relationship with pavements. In many cases they are too
narrow to walk along except by experienced tightrope walkers. The ‘trottoir’ in
our street, close to the centre of the town, is far too narrow in both
directions for a wheelchair. Speaking of wheelchairs, our post office – ‘La
Poste’ – is near the end of our street, the last in a series of buildings and
with the entrance in the corner nearest the road. It faces along the street,
rather than into the road. The entrance is above the level of the pavement and
so for the benefit of customers it can be accessed from one direction by two
steps and from the other by an adjoining ramp. Given that the two steps face
the centre of the town, able-bodied customers predominantly use them. However
as the ‘trottoir’ to the side of the ramp is so narrow, wheelchair users – for whom
presumably the ramp was mainly constructed? – would either have to lean
precariously, half on the pavement, half on the road, to get around it or
dismount the pavement, move along the road (in the potential face of oncoming
traffic) and then remount having done so, presumably at the same time swinging
their chair around to face the beginning of the ramp.
Having
finally made it to this point by the way, they would then find that the ramp is
so steep they would either need to have the strength of a paralympian to haul
themselves up it, or a fit and healthy companion to push them.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A series of
stories, sketches and poems to support the NC requirements for learning
spelling in a creative way. Also editions for KS1 and LKS2.
