Deansgate Boulevard

On an unfamiliar departure from my usual slanted view of the world and this fair city of Manchester, I write this time with news of a positive nature and no hint of the usual faintly veiled apathy with which I normally report. This news, you see, is as pure as good news gets. It’s like a spring emerging from a mountain side, untainted and clear. As long as you don’t see the dead sheep rotting into the ground 20 metres uphill.

Plans are afoot for Deansgate, that famed thoroughfare that strikes its path right through the belly of this town, to become pedestrianised. Following the recent works that have made vehicular access impossible, many people are now so used to a car-free Deansgate, and refreshed at not having to risk their lives while dodging around an illegally parked footballer’s Aston Martin to catch their bus, that they’re lobbying for the no vehicles rule to become permanent. And...this is the best bit...the council appear to be listening to them.

"The work on Deansgate has clearly targeted an interest...to look at options of pedestrianisation and we will listen,” so says Jim Battle, deputy leader of Manchester council. “"The principle of pedestrianisation is understood and it's a question of how we could practically apply that. We are at a stage where people are coming forward with ideas and we will listen."

This is cause for some celebration. Or rather it would be if such words from an elected member could be believed without resorting to the default mindset when such a person (see also politicians) opens their mouth, which is, of course, one of extreme suspicion. He tempers his gushing positivity with the following statement, “For example we could perhaps look at the idea of pedestrianisation on certain days of the week or times of the year.” Hmm...that’ll be the rotting sheep then. We’ll probably end up with it being closed to cars between 4am-7am. Or only on days of the week beginning with G.

Still, it’s a nice idea and one that hopefully will be taken to a conclusion that befits the wishes of the people. Those are the thoughts that I shall take away with me as I leave this city, and these shores, for two weeks of recreation in a warmer, computer free climate. I’ll leave you with a picture of a car-free Deansgate. Just imagine is without the cones and the cage-like fencing. Or the massive trench in the ground.

Christmas comes to Rochdale

The month is August. The hope for some summer sunshine is still alive in many of us, the nostalgic smells of freshly mown grass and hot city streets still tease our noses and the evenings still maintain a glow of daylight at least an hour or two after many of us return to work. Winter is in the future. It’s not something we’re thinking about yet – the dark nights, damp days and frosty mornings. We’ll deal with them when they arrive but for now it’s not something we’re even contemplating.

I say ‘we’ but it seems not all of us are so in the moment and keen to revel in the season in which we are currently residing. Rochdale City Council, for example, seem positively enthusiastic to get summer over and done with and get on with the dark days of winter. They decorated their streets this week, you see, but not with colourful bunting for a carnival or banners advertising a summer fair. Christmas decorations are their ornaments of choice. In August. Christmas decorations going up in August.

I normally get annoyed at evidence of Christmas anytime before late November so this naturally has me almost incandescent with seasonality rage. I have no problem with Christmas; indeed, being a lover of good food and booze and days off work, it’s a time of year I am quite enthusiastic about. In December. The end of December. August is just ridiculous.

Car Trouble

The elected MP for Salford has been having a bit of a bad time of it recently. Not so long ago, I was chastising her on this very blog for her rather creative use of our money in the now much over reported expenses claim row.

Ms Blears, you will have seen, has been in the news again this week, again connected to her position at MP for Salford but this time in slightly more unfortunate circumstances. She took the bold step of going out canvassing in her esteemed constituency and the even bolder step of leaving her car, a nice shiny Citroen, unattended, alone and vulnerable on the street. When she returned the car was, shall we say, in a less than roadworthy condition than that she left it in, with all tyres slashed and the windscreen with a hefty dent in it. This rather strange video demonstrates:

Hazel herself played down the incident in public, claiming it was just ’the actions of a tiny minority’ and that she hadn’t been targeted specifically. The reaction from readers of the local press has been rather more telling, however, with many putting fingers to keys to express their annoyance and, in some cases, pure rage not only with Ms Blears’ naivety but also the apparently preferential treatment she received from our boys in blue. Let’s just take a little sample slice from the response from Salford:

“Isnt it amazing that within minutes an array of cop vans arrived, if that had been me or you we would have had to rely on the AA, or a friend, no Police would have turned up, no nothing. Blears, even now you are so pig headed that you fail to see you are hated in the region...a lot of Salford people simply can’t stand the sight of you.”

It’s certainly to the point.

A muddy tale of misfortune

Finding mirth and entertainment in other people’s misfortune is not, believe it or not, something I often indulge in. Indeed, I have huge empathy for the troublesome and sometimes bizarre situations people find themselves in but I was unable to read this particular story without a smile adorning my face and a little glee piercing my heart. It’s a simple and ageless tale involving a dog, some sticky mud and a determined but ultimately doomed family. I will relay the events for you below and you too can indulge in a bit of light entertainment courtesy of a hapless family.

Family take dog for a walk in the park.
Dog runs across large muddy area and stops in middle. Dog doesn’t move. Dog is stuck.
Child attempts to go to dog’s aid. Child reaches dog but moves no further. Child is stuck.
Mother attempts to go to child and dog’s aid. Mother reaches child and dog but moves no further. Mother is stuck.
Father attempts to go mother, child and dog’s aid (you can see where this is going, right?) Father reaches mother, child and dog but moves no further. Father is stuck.

Honestly, it’s like something out of a bloody Carry On film. To add to the whole impact of this little tale, we even have photos. Praise the lord for the camera phone.

Bollards.

There was a time when I thought this story was an urban myth. Thankfully, these days we have YouTube to dispel such wanton thoughts within seconds and, as with many things in life, the You and the Tube happily hosts a number of examples. The story to which I refer is that concerning a set of traffic control bollards on a street that runs through a mostly pedestrianised section of the city centre. For obvious reasons, private vehicles are not wanted on such a stretch of carriageway but on occasion access is required for other people – emergency services and buses, for example. So the bollards work very simply and you need a little electronic thing (I don’t know exactly what it looks like) in your vehicle to lower them and allow you to pass over the top. They then, as you might expect, return to their natural, upright, protruding state.

The problem arises when impatient/stupid/arrogant (delete as you see fit) people think they can sneak in behind a bus or ambulance and scoot over the bollards before they have a chance to pop back up again. You can see where this is going, right? Well, you are correct. Have a look:



What did I tell you – stupid. Well, the council agree and so fed up are they of paying out to repair these bollards that they’re going to start prosecuting anyone who lumbers blindly into such a predicament, to cover the costs of repairing them. Fair enough, I say. There’s plenty of warning, after all (signs and lights and stuff), and, well, it’s not hard, is it? Just go the other way.