Priceless Paintings from W7

I thought it best to post this on a Monday, ‘coz it is about Tuesdays. Tuesday is our day for collection of rubbish and recyclables. Our 250m one-way street is pretty narrow, so if one tries to be clever, avoid two sets of traffic lights along the main road and instead chose the rat-run through our street, one might find self stuck behind the collection lorry.

There’s no room to pass. One will just have to be patient, let the dustmen do their job, and give them a friendly smile when one finally can pass at the end of our road.

Alternatively, one might learn, and take the official route along the main road on a Tuesday. Or any day, for all I care.

One might. One could. One should.

Too bad this isn’t what one does.

One does give a huge big scolding if the own rubbish and recyclables isn’t been collected promptly, swiftly, cleanly, and in the usual day and time. If, however, one find self stuck behind a collection vehicle, the car’s horn acts as an extension to one’s brain, only capable of one thing: Me! me! me! – even if it is blatantly obvious that the only thing at fault here is one’s own consideration and common sense.

Give them a smile instead, you insufferable, self-obsessed, inconsiderate fools!

Thoughts Rat Run, recycling

Mankind is just unbelievable in its stupidity, stubbornness, and inflexibility – Oh, I don’t know how to describe this adequately, but surely it is unbelievable:

Just outside my house, a road is currently closed due to gas engineering and resurfacing works. The entrance to that one-way road is closed at the junction, using traffic cones and several large signs saying “Road Closed.” (Not the one shown in the picture, though.)

This road is heavily used as a rat run. People ignore the warning signs earlier on, and drive all the way until they cannot go any further. Then, they start by sitting in the car and staring at the cones.

The cones won’t bulge and won’t disappear.

Some bright spark is guaranteed to honk his horn, and other idiots will join.

The traffic cones won’t listen. They show character and stay put.

Eventually, somebody exits a car, removes cones and signs, and traffic enters the road without having the slightest clue as to how far they might get. In particular, at this location, nobody can see whether one can exit the road at the other end, but it being a one-way suburban road in London, it is certain that one cannot turn around. Once you’re in, you’re in for good.

So they get stuck at the top end when reaching the tarmac machine. A queue builds, and some bright spark will soon start honking his horn.

The cones smile, and know they were right in the first place.

If things aren’t getting better soon, the builders have to call for riot police to secure the road works. It’s a war out there, but by simple comparison of intellectual capabilities, the traffic cones have outperformed mankind five nil.

Thoughts london, Montague Avenue, Rat Run, Traffic