Right on queue

Posted on March 16, 2015 by Nigel Hurll

As Manchester City season ticket holders, we drive north-westwards from the town in the New Forest where we live for every home game. We have experienced more than our fair share of adverse traffic conditions during the last four years or so of these sojourns and I have penned previous accounts of them elsewhere, most of them shamelessly – but deservedly, in my opinion – vitriolic. Recently, we have availed ourselves of the services of Virgin Trains and/or CrossCountry depending on the cost, and this is fast becoming a preferred means of travel, barring further landslides.

I don’t think the despair, frustration and, yes, hatred, engendered by some of the journeys comes close to that suffered on one Saturday just after Christmas. The traffic queue stretched from the A31 in Ringwood – less than a mile from our house – to Junction 19 (Knutsford) of the M6 – approximately 223.5 miles from our house. Naturally, this was unexpected and contrary to the – as it turned out, somewhat naïve and pitifully unfounded – theory that most people would have been at home languishing in a kind of sedentary post-Boxing Day haze.

Normally, it should take just over 4 hours, which includes a half-hour stop for food and coffee at Warwick Services; well, there was even a bastard great queue to get in there. As a consequence of all the vehicular challenges we encountered, it took a little longer this time: we had left home at noon and arrived at the Premier Inn at Bucklow Hill on the A556 at Mere, near Knutsford (a regular resting place of ours), at 8.00pm.

Needless to say, even with the obligatory halt at Cherwell Valley Services on the way back – Gregg’s: two regular lattes, steak bake, ham and cheese baguette, cream scone and a yum-yum, oh, don’t forget stamps on the coffee reward card – it took just under 4 hours on eerily deserted roads.

I can’t see it getting any better. *sigh*

Driving me mad

Posted on December 10, 2014 by Nigel Hurll

After due deliberation, I have come to the conclusion that I am a jam magnet. Before you run away with the idea that, in some strange way, I attract fruit spread, let me disavow you of this misapprehension with the following relevant definitions for ‘jam’ from Dictionary.com: to fill or block up by crowding; pack or obstruct; to make (something) unworkable by causing parts to become stuck, blocked, caught, displaced; and – probably the most relevant – a mass of objects, vehicles, etc., packed together or otherwise unable to move except slowly.

You may or may not have read the sad account of one of my many journeys north-westward when the M6 jumped out from behind a clear road and blocked itself to buggery, forcing us to take four hours to travel 20 miles. Well, I am now proud to announce that I was once a participant in the greatest M60 Manchester Ring Road snarl-up in living memory. According to the traffic lady on a local radio station, the whole circular route had been a massive car park for most of the afternoon. I would therefore dispute the ‘move slowly’ bit of the last part of the dictionary entry above as it engenders an entirely false impression that movement was a regular feature of the affair.

I had driven from Manchester (where we were spending a few days away from Hants with relatives) to Merseyside for a meeting with a work colleague, and this vehicular melée was the culmination of a wonderful day on rain-sodden roads (one stretch of the M56 was far better suited for water-skiing) that included a stop-start excursion through the centre of Liverpool (where, incidentally, I had never been before) and a surreal episode with my satnav in the Wallasey Tunnel. I was understandably surprised to see my journey under the River Mersey depicted on its screen all the way through (quite often it goes blank when I drive under a tree) and I assumed that there must have been some sort of signal boosting equipment installed in it (see? – more damned electrickery, you can’t get away from it). I did wonder why, though, as soon as I emerged into the open from the tunnel towards the toll booths, it lost the satellite signal.

Pretty much par for the course that day.

Road to Hell

Posted on November 29, 2014 by Nigel Hurll

I could bang on about my disgust and displeasure with road travel, particularly on the M6, until the cows come home (as long as they didn’t use the M6 – otherwise I’d be banging on for ever); the notorious section just before Junction 15 to Stoke‑on‑Trent and Newcastle‑under‑Lyme is pictured here with, I think I’m right in saying, most of the traffic somewhat disingenuously Photoshopped out. I just can’t help it – if you ask me (though I know you won’t) it should be called the M666 (or, if you are a pedantic devotee of QI, the M616) but giving one of England’s main cross‑country arteries a bad name is not my current purpose – not this time, anyway.

Some people might think that, whilst driving north and south up and down the highways and byways of the country, all I do is spend my time thinking about what vitriol I can pen in another highway-related diatribe, and that’s why I have to get Sheila to read out the Daily Telegraph crossword clues several times before properly taking them in. No, no, not at all, I can’t hear them because of the ambient noise of the radio coupled with the constant hum of tyre on road (that’s what I tell her anyway). We finished both crosswords on the way up one Monday, but only one and a half on the way back on the Tuesday (I think I had the radio on louder and possibly some more decent resurfacing is required on the southward leg).

The following are simply observations on one or two new initiatives introduced by my very good friends at the Highways Agency (HA) and spotted during our latest trip – quite uneventful as it turned out. The signs which used to say: “Queue Ahead” now read: “Queue Caution” – this has been done, apparently, as too many motorists had been regarding the former as an instruction.

The HA has also instigated new signs at several locations which say: “Bin Your Litter – Other People Do”. The first three words are an admirable suggestion but their effectiveness is considerably lessened by virtue of the accompanying statement which is based, in my view, upon the thinnest evidence. Rather, they ought to say: “Bin Your Litter Even Though Most People Don’t And The Bins At Motorway Services Get So Full That They Quickly Become A Health Hazard What With All The Rubbish Blowing Around The Car Park And Everything Not To Mention Wasps Etc”. I suppose if the signs were too lengthy, everyone would have to slow down considerably or even park up to read them. In which case, maybe they could give us advance warning by changing the signs at appropriate intervals to read “Queue Ahead To Read Next Sign”.

Right, how many words in the answer to 12 down? Sorry? What?

The road goes ever on and on

Posted on November 29, 2014 by Nigel Hurll

Apologies to J R R Tolkein. In The Lord of the Rings (one of my favourite books), there is a song with the above title that sums up a section of the utterly wretched A34 (actually, that’s how it makes me feel), which I have regularly traversed on my trips to and from the north-west. It’s strange, but the home leg always seems more interminable than the outward.

As many of you may know, there are actually three versions of the song in that great work: one which Bilbo sings as he sets off from the Shire, the second (which only has one word change) is spoken by Frodo as he and his companions pause at the Shire’s borders looking toward lands none of them had ever seen, and the third spoken by Bilbo in Rivendell (the closest version to my own). Anyway, I felt compelled to write it; as I’ve mentioned on a previous occasion, it’s hard to stop me from doing things like this!

The Road goes ever on and on
Out from the M40 where I began;
Now far ahead the Road has gone,
Please let me off, I’m not a fan.

Let others’ journeys yet begin,
But I at last with aching back
Will turn towards the lighted inn;
A glass or two, then hit the sack.

Not quite up to JRRT’s standard, I know, but it kept me quiet for a bit.

There is actually an original version of the song which Bilbo recites at the end of The Hobbit, and which starts “Roads go ever ever on”. Here’s a stab at the opening lines of the first verse of that one:

Roads go ever ever on
Over rock and under tree;
Like this one, too, I drive upon
While pining for the old M3.

I curse the Highways Agency
‘Til all my vicious words are done
But, finally, a sense of glee,
The end is nigh: A31.

Truth to tell, I’ve never actually experienced a sense of glee or any other similar emotion upon encountering the A31, especially when westbound on a Friday afternoon but, after several rewrites of the last two lines, desperation set in.