Tag: Roundabouts

Parental legacies – you can’t escape them even if you want to

This is the weird thought I had the other day when we went to see my dad and step mum for a few hours. While we were there, my dad became quite animated at one point talking about the periodic table and how different chemicals combine to create various compounds. We also talked about how batteries work. I’m not sure this is the usual type of family-get-together small talk that most families engage in. But ours does. It is the norm.

Haven't you ever wondered, how these work?

Haven’t you ever wondered, how these work?

When I was growing up, I thought my dad was in a category of his own. A category of high-level geekiness. In my mind, he was a mostly self-taught intellectual (although he did do a Open University degree, more about that later) with rather high-brow interests: science, maths, motorways, meetings, politics, electricity and books. Although we shared a love for books, mine tended to be the Beano and Enid Blyton books. His books were from the part of the library which gathers the most dust. The other topics that seemed to interest him seemed terribly dull and dry to me. He didn’t seem at all like my friends’ dads.

However, many years later, and with the benefit of hindsight, I have come to realise that I am more like my dad than I thought. Perhaps I always had a latent dad-likeness but it only blossomed as I became a grown up. Here follows is the evidence. Since leaving school I have learnt to love maths and physics a little more. I’ve read a few books on both topics and I absolutely love the annual Christmas lectures at the Royal Institution. I found our talk about the periodic table quite engaging. I think Radio 4 is better than music. I am loath to admit it but I have an odd perchance for motorways and roundabouts (there are so many interesting ones out there). I don’t think I have inherited this quirky interest from my mum. It must be my dad.

And the winner of the best roundabout in the UK is...

And the winner of the best roundabout in the UK is…

I look forward to meetings. I am a parent governor and I secretly quite enjoy the three-hour long (and the rest) meetings in which we get to discuss some very complex educational issues. It really is very interesting, honestly! Politics gets me quite fired up these days. I spent far too much time during the big Brexit debate doing a lot of debating. That’s my dad in me. I’m sure of it.

And these days I don’t just read fiction. I have three books on the go at the moment: Patrick Kelly The View from the Train, Owen Jones The Establishment (admittedly I’ve been reading this for months) and Elizabeth Strout My Name is Lucy Barton. All of which are brilliant. I’m also reading the latest Modern Painters and Aesthetica. Oh, and I’m dipping in and out of Vitamin D: New Perspectives on Drawing. That’s quite geeky, right?

Everyone needs to read this

Everyone needs to read this

As I mentioned above, I remember my dad doing his Open University degree when I was quite young. My memory is a mix of early-morning BBC2 programmes with hairy male or female presenters wearing flares, books, more books, papers, books, and a ceremony in a big building in Birmingham that scared me. But watching my dad spending so many hours learning had a huge impact on me. It gave me a determination to get myself educated. I really wanted that university experience. I had a yearning for it and I did get there (twice now).

So the best legacy my dad left me (and my mum too as she also read voraciously and spent a part of her adult life learning and re-training), one which is more exciting than roundabouts and electrical circuits, is a thirst for knowledge and a desire to never stop learning.

Are we both quite geeky?

Are we both quite geeky?

So I need to say just one more thing to end this weird thought: thank you, dad!

Now time to decided which of my four books to read before bed.

 

 

 

Why don’t I like Telford?

This is a weird thought I had, not on the toilet, but in Telford today.

Every six weeks my middle son attends a writers’ workshop co-run by author Kate Long in a small settlement in Shropshire called Oakengates. This workshop lasts 2 hours. Oakengates is 20 minutes from our house so it isn’t really worth me coming back home again before I have to fetch him. The first time I took him, I tried to hang around Oakengates for 2 hours. I failed as I couldn’t find enough to amuse me in that time (I had two coffees in two cafes). Oakengates, in case you don’t know, consists of a theatre (where my son was), a scattering of sad-looking charity shops and two cafes.

The Theatre in Oakengates

The Theatre in Oakengates

The second time I took him, I went to Telford shopping centre to find amusement, which is 7 minutes away. There is indeed enough to amuse me there (at the very least, a Zara, two Costas and a Waterstones) but I don’t like Telford. I go there with a heavy heart and a cross brow. So my weird thought is: why don’t I like Telford? Plenty of people do like Telford. People even live there. Why does the thought of going to Telford make me feel cross? Why do I profess to hate it so much? What has Telford ever done to me?

The town with no soul

The town with no soul

There are a number of reasons for my antipathy towards Telford:

  • I always get lost in Telford as it seems to consist solely of  roundabouts and ring roads and all lead to each other. There is no logical way out.
  • I always get lost in Telford because my sat nav thinks it is mostly fields.
  • There is no middle of Telford. It is just roundabouts (yes I know I should love these as I love roundabouts) and a shopping centre.
  • Telford has no soul (not having a middle).
  • The Waterstones, although a highlight of a visit to Telford, is fairly crappily stocked (it only has one floor).
  • Telford has no black-and-white buildings. I like black-and-white buildings.
  • The people don’t look happy. They must be, they are in Telford. They don’t look it though. They drag themselves around the shops as if searching, yearning, for something indescribable. I don’t think they will find it in Telford. I feel as if I ought to tell them to go to Shrewbsury instead.
  • I always get lost in the shopping centre.  It is quite big and it all looks the same.
  • All the houses in Telford are new. I don’t like new houses.
  • The sun always shines in Telford. That can’t be real. I don’t think I’ve ever been to Telford in the rain.
  • Telford reminds me of Seahaven from The Truman Show. Everyone looks as if they are acting (they couldn’t possibly be there by choice, could they?) and the buildings look artificial. Is Telford a reality TV show?

I hope I haven’t upset anyone who lives in Telford with my disparaging words. I’d be happy to engage in some lively debate with a Telfordian and be convinced that Telford is actually a nice place. Please do feel free to try if that is you. It has an ice rink, after all. So it isn’t all bad. I think the main reason I don’t like it is because it isn’t very old and I live in Shrewsbury which is very old (we have a lane called ‘grope lane’ where the ladies of the night used to hang out in medieval times – and a very interesting history is attached to such streets).

My favourite street in Shrewsbury - no ladies of the night here now

My favourite street in Shrewsbury – no ladies of the night here now

I keep thinking I need to learn to love Telford and perhaps I should start an art project about the town so I can grow to love something about it. I suspect that there is something about it that part of me loves (like when you fancy someone and you are mean to them). I have a love-hate relationship with Telford. It just seems such a sad place where the only leisure pursuit is to shop in the search for happiness or a meaning to life. Shopping is just not the path to happiness though, or is it?

These people live in Telford

These people live in Telford

 

 

I like collecting interesting roundabouts and scary corners

I’m not sure that this classifies as a ‘weird thought’ but I think it classifies as weird so I’m half way there. I like to collect interesting roundabouts and scary corners. I will introduce a few here. I’d like to explore more.

There is a roundabout in Oxford affectionately known in our family as T.S.R. which stands for The Scary Roundabout. The real name of this roundabout is the Headington Roundabout. It was this roundabout that was responsible for sending me hurtling down the M4 to London with a boot full of food shopping, including icecream, on a very hot August Sunday afternoon many years ago. That was a very scary moment. I had taken the wrong exit.

Does this look scary to you?

Does this look scary to you?

I used to DREAD going around this roundabout when we lived in Oxford. I had a temping job once where I had no choice but to go on this roundabout to get from home to the place of work. I was so glad that that job only lasted only two weeks.

There is a roundabout in Shrewsbury that, in contrast to T.S.R., I find quite lovely because of its unusual shape. It is known to us in the Collins family as The 50p Roundabout. It isn’t even a roundabout as it is shaped like a 50p so it isn’t round (albeit a 50p with too many sides). My children also call it the rabbit roundabout after we were told that a colony of rabbits live on the roundabout (I’ve never seen any rabbits there). It is officially known as Meole Brace Roundabout (incidentally I like to call Meole Brace Melrose Brace after a rather naff US drama of the past).

Do these live on the 50p roundabout?

Do these live on the 50p roundabout?

The famous 50p roundabout

The famous 50p roundabout

There is a famous roundabout in Swindon I’d like to visit someday. It is known as the ‘Magic Roundabout’ and looks like a dalliance with death to me.

And the winner of the best roundabout in the UK is...

And the winner of the best roundabout in the UK is…

Another roundabout worth a visit might be the roundabout that was voted the best roundabout in the UK by the UK Roundabout Appreciation Society (yes, such an organisation does exist) in 2013. It circles a duck pond (almost as cute as rabbits).

The duck pond roundabout in Kent

The duck pond roundabout in Kent

And after visiting that one, I want to visit the roundabout that houses a windmill (winner of the best roundabout vote in 2012).

Have you ever been around this roundabout near York?

Have you ever been around this roundabout near York?

As for corners, I have two corners I am especially fond of. The first one is between Aberystwyth and Borth. It is the scariest corner I have ever had the pleasure to drive along. It is on a mountain side and it has an angle of about 40 degrees (or 320 degrees from the outside).

Which way to the scariest corner in Britain?

Which way to the scariest corner in Britain?

The second scary corner in my collection is between Charlbury and Chipping Norton. This corner sticks in my memory because my husband had to drive me from Charlbury, where we lived, to Chipping Norton, where the nearest hospital was, while I struggled not to give birth to my second son in the car. It was a particularly icy night in early March. I will never forget that roundabout. It marked the half way mark from home to hospital.

Do you know the scary corner between Charlbury and Chipping Norton?

Do you know the scary corner between Charlbury and Chipping Norton?

I hope this odd hobby of mine makes me more interesting than a train spotter. Perhaps I ought to start a note book of corners and roundabouts. But first, I want this book!

This is going on my Christmas list

This is going on my Christmas list