Road Maintenance and Sarcasm
Posted: Mon 16 August, 2010 Filed under: 1BEM, Charm School, Cynicism, Domestic, Driving, Norfolk, People, Stupidity, Travel Leave a comment »Over the weekend, one of the significant crossroads near us was completely closed for re-surfacing. The problem was that at least one route to get to that crossroads didn’t have any mention of said road closure.
Which means I get to send sarcastic emails to Norfolk County Council. (Again)
To whom it may concern,
I’d just like to congratulate the person(s) involved in sorting out signage for the road closure in Hingham this weekend.
If (as many people did) you took the road from Little Ellingham towards Hingham using Hingham Road->Little Ellingham Road -> Attleborough Road to the crossroads in Hingham, there was not *ONE* sign saying that the road ahead was closed. The signage was in fact before this junction (at roughly the spot of the red circle in this map)
This meant that anyone coming through on the route from Little Ellingham came round the corner to find the entire road closed off, and then had to turn round and go back. This also had the effect of stuffing a significant amount of the newly resurfaced road before the junction.
Of course, the road from Little Ellingham isn’t that heavily used. Except when Little Ellingham has its Vintage Working Weekend event- yes, the weekend just passed.
I look forward to any response Norfolk Council deigns to give in explanation of why there was no thought given to this route, or signage on it.
Sincerely
Lyle
I know it’ll do bugger-all good, but I felt better having written it. And that’s what matters.
Rural Weekend
Posted: Sat 14 August, 2010 Filed under: Norfolk, People, Weirdness Leave a comment »This weekend the village down the road has their annual “vintage working weekend” event. It’s a bizarre thing – not quite a steam rally, not quite anything particular – but means that our road is pretty much constantly thronged by tractors running up and down.
Right now though there’s a parade of tractors going past the front of the house, some with passengers on trailers, most just being driven along as part of the parade. Completely mad.
So far there’s been about forty of the damn things…
Pick Your Own
Posted: Sun 8 August, 2010 Filed under: Domestic, Norfolk Leave a comment »Over the last two weekends, we’ve been to one of the local pick-your-own places twice for raspberries. Sadly, they’re closed now or we’d be going another couple of times. We’ll know for next year.
In the mean time, over the two visits we got something like 17lbs (nearly 8 kg) of raspberries, which cost us the princely sum of £45. (£2.65 a lb)
From that little lot, Herself has made 55 jars of raspberry jam, and we’ve still got more in the freezer for general use. All told (including fuel, cooking gas and so on) it’s cost us at most £1 a jar – quite a difference to the usual price we pay. (I like the Bonne Maman stuff, which is usually about 150% of that price)
I’ll freely admit I’m a fiend for raspberry jam, and I reckon this little lot will probably last around nine months. Just in time for the next season, in fact…
Harvest
Posted: Fri 23 July, 2010 Filed under: Driving, Norfolk Leave a comment »Around us at the moment all the farmers are harvesting the wheat/barley/cereal crops.
Norfolk’s pretty rural- you may’ve noticed – and harvest season is a big thing. There’s the cereal harvest now, and there’ll be the sugar-beet one early in 2011, as usual.
The downside of the harvest is the sheer number of effing tractors, combine harvesters and other assorted farm machinery that’s out on the roads at any given time of day. It fucks up the traffic completely – farmers preferring to be moving between 8 and 10am, although whether this is out of practicality or sheer mean-minded pettiness is up for discussion.
This morning I had no less than six different tractors in front of me on various occasions. It’s a pain in the tits – you overtake one, then five minutes later you’re behind another of the fuckers. Even the school run’s better than this. Grrrrr.
Public vs Private
Posted: Fri 23 July, 2010 Filed under: Animals, Domestic, Driving, Norfolk, People, Thoughts, Travel 1 Comment »In my post about the mileage I’ve covered this month, Gordon pointed out
I use this invention called ‘the train’. Saves adding miles and miles to your car (cost).
And that’s a perfectly valid point. If I could, I’d use public transport – and particularly trains – a lot more. But there are some reasons why this month I couldn’t/didn’t/wouldn’t.
Among those reasons are :
- Hound
- Cost
- Convenience
- Time
- Practicality
Let’s look at just one of the journeys I did – taking Hound down to Berkshire – Wokingham, to be more precise – and compare driving to trains.
- Hound : There’s no way Hound could go on public transport without being muzzled. In the temperatures that were around when we did the journey, that’s just not going to happen – she’d be unable to pant properly or anything. She’d also be a complete pain in the arse – not just to me, but to everyone around – for the entire journey. And taking Hound through the London Underground while changing stations? You’re having a fucking laugh. In the car, she just slept in her basket, cool in the car’s air-con atmosphere.
- Cost : The cheapest I could do the journey, for a return ticket is (at the time of writing) £48.40. That’s not including getting to the station nearest home, or the cost of getting from station to kennels at the other end. (And back again) The 300 mile round trip in the car cost me about £30 – £35 (I can’t remember exactly) all in, door-to-door.
- Convenience : Again, door-to-door vs. all the fucking about of train travel, getting to station, travelling, three changes, getting from station to kennels, and back again. All while carrying dog stuff, my stuff, and the dog basket. Yeah.
- Time : Just for the train journey is four and a half hours. One way. Driving? Three hours one way. Door-to-door.
- Practicality : I’ll let you figure out which one’s best on this score. And we haven’t even touched on delays, travelling with other people, the ability to have peace and quiet while travelling, so on and so forth.
The trip to Manchester(ish) is an even better example, even if Hound’s not a factor…
- Hound : N/A
- Cost : Train (return ticket) £80.80 – best I can find. Car : £40 fuel.
- Convenience : Train ? Office to Bury St Edmunds Station. Three changes. Manchester to Oldham. Oldham to [Village]. Car? Door to Door.
- Time : Train (again, train only, one-way, not including sodding about) five hours. Car? 3 hours.
- Practicality : Car wins. Again. And I don’t need to fix everything around when the trains run.
I would use public transport more. But when you look at the factors in this way, you can see why I don’t…
Buzzy
Posted: Wed 21 July, 2010 Filed under: Animals, Domestic, Norfolk, Sweary Leave a comment »I’m sure I’ve mentioned this in previous years, but in Summer our house gets a real influx of houseflies – particularly in the kitchen, but really through the place. And they drive me mad.
We can’t find a reason for them coming in – the walls have been filled with cavity-wall insulation, the kitchen units have been replaced, nothing’s dead/rotting/stinking/festering in the kitchen or house at all, and yet every year we get all these sodding flies. It’s not quite “Biblical Plague” of the buzzy little bastards, but it’s enough to drive me mental.
Hound’s not keen on them either – collies are renowned for their fly-chasing activities, so she keeps on chasing them and trying to eat them – and in that aspect I guess I must be part-collie. I use a fly-swatter rather than trying to catch the little flying shitbags in my mouth, but I admit I can get quite obsessive about it.
I don’t know what else we can do, though. Fly-paper is bloody ugly, the ultra-viole(n)t bugzappers are monstrous on power, and fly-spray’s even worse than fly-swatters- although spray doesn’t leave bug-bits on the walls/ceiling.
I think it’s just one of those things with living in the area – other people we know have similar issues here, so it’s not just our place. That’s some kind of reassurance, I suppose. Not much, though.