In my latest column for the Hawkesbury Parish News, I’m taken aback by the sudden appearance of the trappings of urban traffic in our quiet Cotswold village.
“Sorry I’m late, I was held up by the traffic lights outside The Fox.”
When I first spotted them, I very nearly crashed my car in surprise. What an epic fail that would have been. These shiny new lights looked so out of place in our village centre that they reminded me of stray cats and dogs that had wandered too far from their territory. Surely their rightful owner must be missing them?
Using mechanical signals to communicate with each other doesn’t feel right in our village, where drivers and pedestrians frequently exchange cheery waves and shouts.
“Do you KNOW those people?” a visiting friend once asked me, puzzled as to why I kept waving to passing cars on my way to the Hawkesbury Shop. His townie habits dictated that he kept his eyes averted, head down, as we walked along the road, rather than risk engaging with passers by. That struck me as sad.
Although our traffic lights are temporary, serving a valid purpose, I for one will be glad when they’re removed. Seeing them in our High Street seems as unlikely as discovering a bus lane down Sandpits*, or a flyover above Farm Pool. Or water in Farm Pool**, come to that. No, now I’m just letting my imagination run away with me…
*The next road to ours, which narrows to a single track with passing places
**The old drovers’ pool at the far end of our village, long since dry
If you enjoyed this post, you might also like this musing about road signs:
Do Traffic Signs Drive You To Distraction?
Or this one about our motoring crisis in Belgium:
En Panne in De Panne