Plain Jane 211016: Who’s responsible for the idiotic 50mph Thanet Way limit?

plain-jane-211016-blogSince writing this I have been told (by a usually-reliable source) that the Thanet Way is built on London clay and is “undulating”. So, if true (anybody else heard anything?) it seems there may be method in the madness after all. It is still a bloody nuisance…

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Signs of madness on the Thanet Way. Has some new recruit at the Department of Transport held a map the wrong way up, or an old retainer finally flipped and lost the plot? Driving to Guildford for the book festival last Thursday, I was startled to find new signs proclaiming a 50mph speed limit from shortly after I joined the road, until the turning for Dargate. Everyone was merrily ignoring them when I hared back the same way on Friday afternoon but no doubt it is only a matter of time before the evil cameras are installed. What is going on? Is the Government that short of revenue? As someone who has sat through a recent “speed awareness” course for the heinous crime of doing 81 on a clear motorway – an hour in, I was wishing I’d taken the points – I am fully conversant with the dangers of driving too fast in certain conditions. I would like to see more stringent controls, for example,  on the rate at which some senseless idiots roar through towns or down residential streets where children might be crossing or the elderly could quite easily be mown down. But there is no logical reason I can see  to slow the traffic on an open, straight road that is rarely congested. On Saturday lunchtime when I once again hit the dual carriageway – this time to interview the fabulous chef Angela Hartnett for Whitlit Food – the highway was almost deserted. Yet I was expected to hobble along at twenty miles less than I’ve been travelling at for the whole of my driving life. Google has not been particularly helpful in tracking down who might be responsible and I lost the will to live halfway through a document entitled “an interim evaluation of the implementation of speed limits summary report” which seemed to be concentrating on the comparative benefits of 20mph limits in Portsmouth. I did glean, however, that in some circumstances, district councils have influence to set speed limits in their local area. Kippers – please tell me this isn’t down to you…

WHAT certainly is down to anyone of a UKIP persuasion (along with the misguided, ill-informed and deluded) is the state of the pound – at, as I write,  an all-time low against both Euro and dollar and showing no sign of recovery any time soon. Great news to go with the announcement that a hard Brexit will cost the Treasury a possible 66 billion pounds a year in lost revenue, as our GDP also slumps. Well done people – especially those who fell for the line about all that extra dosh for the NHS. Frankly, I’ve got no sympathy if your Persil and PG tips is now going to cost more, although I too was shaken by the stand-off between Tesco and Unilever over price hikes. I knew the disaster of 23rd June would affect holidays and jobs and health care staffing and our children’s futures. But one still wants to cling to the notion that in Britain as we know it, some things are sacred. A civilised society relies on a fair judiciary, basic freedoms of speech, a belief in equality, compassion in plenty and, whatever else is falling apart, a ready supply of Marmite.

EIGHTEEN days to go till the US presidential elections and a final conclusion to the spectacle that has been Donald Trump. Anyone already in despair at the state of a world in which “clowns” go on the rampage and terrify innocent civilians, should be  sending up a prayer. Please may the blind of America finally see Trump for the bigoted, racist, sexist, groping moron he is. And not let the most powerful post  in the world be filled by the biggest clown of them all.

Plain Jane 190816: Council organises ‘how to wear scarves’ class

Plain Jane girl-1343937_1280Poor old Northamptonshire County Council has come under fire for putting on a course entitled How to Tie a Scarf. The three-hour session – a snip at £25 – promises participants the chance to ‘discover how to wear a scarf effectively’, including ‘how scarves can make a difference to your outfit and proportions’ (i.e. get those chins covered up quick and detract the eye from your ample stomach) and has been denounced as “frivolous” and a waste of resources by opposition members and local residents alike. Not so hasty, I say.  It’s always easy to mock but it strikes me that Thanet District Council might benefit us all by taking a leaf out of the East-Midlanders’ book and putting on some cut-price tutorials themselves. With the holiday season in full swing, these might usefully include:

Filial Management. This course takes a practical, hands-on approach to tackling public screaming, stamping and the general running in circles flicking sandwich crusts, by the under-10s. Delegates will be offered instruction in the use of trusses and gags, and invited to utilise a variety of creative alternatives to the conventional: ‘I’m gonna smack yer’. Sponsored by Network South East, Stagecoach, and the National Conglomerate of Catering Establishments.

Refuse Disposal Skills. Attendees will be introduced to a range of basic receptacles in stages of ascending complexity, with special focus being given to the sometimes-baffling differences between a rubbish bin and the gutter. Carefully structured role-play provides an opportunity to develop one’s skills with genuine bottles, cans, burger wrappers and fag ends, in a non-judgmental environment.

Parallel Parking: grasping the basics. In response to popular demand, this interactive session will cover the rudiments of enabling your vehicle to enter a gap big enough for a small coach. Discussion topics include: ‘Should you be driving a 4×4 if you cannot manage your gear stick?’, ‘How to move off without bringing the entire High Street to a standstill’, and ‘Use of Indicators: part 1 – why other motorists may not be psychic.’  Discounts available for men over the age of  75 and school-run mothers.

Style Tips for the Beach (can also be employed in bars, parks and shopping centres). A unisex programme examining a number of philosophical issues surrounding the amount of flesh to be displayed without putting others off their ice-creams.  Core modules incorporate: ‘Are speedos ever acceptable?’ ‘Medallions: don’t do it,’  ‘Bikinis – less is not always more’ and ‘ Topical sun-cream application – Lobster is not a good look’.

Perfect Timing (aka How to run a booze-up in a brewery). This enlightening and ground-breaking course, being offered for the first time, looks at logistics, planning and seasonally-appropriate strategies in order to minimize disruption to vacation-enhanced traffic flow. Includes field trips to College Road, Margate; Kingsgate and selected areas of Ramsgate with guided observational studies of Margate seafront ground to a halt. With special thanks for their input to KCC Highways.

ONE CANNOT help feeling a tad sorry for David Cameron, under such scrutiny during his own holiday season. The media have gleefully picked up on everything from the price of his swimming trunks to the rather woeful comparison between his physique and that of his fit-looking wife, pointing out that he has put on weight and looks un-toned. I’ve never been an obvious choice of advocate for our ex-premier but I do feel that after a gruelling few weeks trying to save us from the perils of Brexit, during which press-ups were likely to be the least of his worries, he should be permitted some perfectly average-looking muffin-top without fear of derision. I suspect however, that while long-lenses exist, my hope is in vain and his less-than-firm midriff will continue to pop up in the press. I wonder if he could try a scarf…

Plain Jane 150716: Brexit is going well…..

Jane 150716It’s going well so far, isn’t it? As I write, the big property funds have been forced to suspend trading, we’ve lost our triple-A credit rating and the pound is still well down against the euro and the dollar.

There could be a question-mark hanging over the 500,000 British jobs provided by German-owned companies and both main political parties remain in disarray*. At least Nigel Farage is going to get his “life back” (while hanging on to his £80,000 European job – no surprise there) after systematically wrecking ours.

Time then to draw on one’s inner Pollyanna and look for a bright side. My detractors are quite entertaining – my favourite to date is the woman on Facebook who told me to stop winging (sic), and the tweeter who posted that I was no longer a local celebrity (how exciting to learn that I once was), as well as the infuriated Brexiteer who found me “pomppous” (I think I’d have been inclined to make sure I could spell it first). At least the abuse is predictable – yeah, yeah, I am “rude” and “biased” – and one is never short of something to argue about. I will not go into the appalling acts of racist vandalism that have been perpetrated against the blameless since the vote was cast, but I hope the irony will not be lost when I choose for this week’s choice of positives-to-highlight, that at least our trains run on time.

Reading about the upheaval to Southern Rail – where a dispute rages about the roles of conductors versus supervisors, and where passengers have been subject to endless cancellations in a situation described by one commuter as “an absolute nightmare”, I was struck this week by how very fortunate we are with our own train service here.

The Hi-speed to St Pancras is brilliant, and it is very rare for it not to roll into Broadstairs station bang on schedule. I have no idea what job description applies to the jolly chaps who check the tickets, but whether they are called conductors, supervisors, or something else entirely, on both my journeys this week, “Jack” and then “Stephen” were the very epitome of good customer service and cheer. Jack, possibly a frustrated radio presenter (I sympathise!), always keeps his travellers informed with upbeat announcements and a big smile; Stephen, with equal charm, took the trouble to advise me on the best possible ticket to ensure I got a bargain. We are also lucky with our station surroundings.

As I was waiting for the train in the first place, a member of Broadstairs town team was clearing up dog-ends with a dustpan and brush and putting stray bits of rubbish in the bin. How lovely, I commented to Andy of the Red Bean Machine – the hot-drink-mobile that does a great Americano and homemade flapjack – as I compared and contrasted this altruistic lady with the unthinking morons who’d dropped their fag butts and beer cans in the first place. He pointed out the attractive wooden plant containers, also supplied and maintained by the team, observing sadly that some people sit in them! There are those who give and those who take away. And I think we’ll find that from now on, it was never more so…

Read here: Hike in train passengers heading to Margate

One further tiny reason to be cheerful. The Brexit debacle has inspired a new family game: “Spot the Leaver”. Run along the lines of the one-time Carling Black Label ads, the rules are simple and one only needs to watch and observe.

Overhear an unfortunate (and usually factually inaccurate) exchange about immigration? See a Union Jack T-shirt hoving into view? Witness the bloke moaning about “them” and talking drivel about the economy? My son and I raise eyebrows, roll eyes and see who can be the first to cry: “I bet HE voted Out…”

* NB this was written last weekend – before Theresa May was appointed.

 Read the original article at: http://www.thanetgazette.co.uk/plain-jane-brexit-is-going-well/story-29512479-detail/story.html#ixzz4ET8CGdAg
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Plain Jane 010716: After the Vote

Plain Jane 010716I woke up on Saturday morning feeling strangely unwell. I mentally ran through what I’d eaten the night before and counted up the glasses of Cava, before I registered that the sick, traumatised sensation in my stomach was simply the realisation that the previous day hadn’t been an awful dream brought on by too much camembert. We really had voted ourselves out of the EU and into the abyss.

On Sunday I felt exactly the same. By that time, we could add to our list of outcomes not only that the pound had crashed and the markets crumbled and that big companies were signalling their intentions to move away from the UK, but that the Labour party was in crisis, nobody from the Tories was seeming ever so keen to be the one to trigger article 50 and in fact a lot of them seemed to be wandering about in confusion wondering what would happen next.

I’ve had my fair share of flak on Facebook for expressing my shock and shame and I have been urged to accept the workings of democracy, to respect the wishes of the majority and to stand firm against the divisions which have sprung up between those who voted to Leave and those who wished fervently to Remain. All well and good  and laudable. But what do I do with my rage?

I have always respected the political opinions of others – I have friends on the right and the far left and the wishy-washy centre (where I usually reside myself) and I will listen to anyone with an intelligent, informed view. And there is the rub.

I feel no animosity towards, say, Craig Mackinlay because I know our South Thanet MP has a brain, is an accountant and voted from a position of unshakable conviction based on his own (even if in my view, mistaken) economic analysis. Ditto any of the members of Westminster who went that way although I note that Boris is not looking particularly jubilant now – time will tell what his particular stance was all about.  But I cannot recover from my fury with the ignorant. Or those that fed them the lies.

The woman interviewed on Radio 5 Live who voted to leave because Wales and Scotland got free prescriptions and she in England didn’t. The bloke filmed for Channel Four news who thought an out vote would  “stop the muslims from coming into this country”  or the chap on the same piece of film who was fuelled by the fact that 13 million quid had been spent on art!  The girl who came on next who thinks a Leave vote  has put “England on the globe” (where was it beforehand then?) or the chap on BBC Radio Four who didn’t mind “the ones here already” but was none too keen on “them others”.  The local woman who said she was doing it because it was “best” for her finances but who hadn’t yet bought the euros for her Spanish holiday next week. (See what it costs you now, love.)

My esteemed colleague on this column, Mike Pearce, has always taken the view that some people are too stupid to vote and I have always squealed with horror. Finally, reluctantly, I feel forced to agree.

But the responsibility lies with the likes of UKIP leader Nigel Farage, now distancing himself from any suggestion that the EU contributions could go to the NHS (not what you said a few weeks ago, Nige!) or the Conservative MEP Daniel Hannan who has finally admitted that coming out of the EU will not result in reduced immigration.

Many, many voters were sold a vision of a Britain that cannot be delivered and they won’t realise that until much too late. For those of you who will respond by telling me I am wrong, then let me answer you now that I so dearly hope I am.

In the meantime, I still feel sick. What, oh what, have we done?

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You can read the original post at http://www.thanetgazette.co.uk/plain-jane-after-the-eu/story-29462228-detail/story.html.

Plain Jane 170616: How we vote on Thursday will probably come down to instinct

Plain Jane 170616So it’s finally here. After all the weeks of posturing, scare-mongering, claims and counter claims, the referendum is finally upon us.

Come Thursday we can put our cross in the box and say once and for all, whether we want to be part of the EU or go our own, not necessarily sweet, way. (After the way our football fans have behaved, Europe may heave a collective sigh of relief.)

Having listened to the hours of debate, read acres of news coverage and had a couple of wine-fuelled exchanges in which I have  just stopped short of banging the table and shouting “Enough!” ( a habit I am trying to grow out of), I have concluded that the way one intends to vote, boils down to a single, simple question. Namely: is one the sort to become over-exercised about the concept of immigration? Or more of the kind of chap who believes in reserving one’s energies for fretting about the economy? I.e. if you spend a lot of your time muttering about “them” stealing our jobs and taking all the housing, and find Nigel Farage can easily whip you into a lather, you’re in the first camp and  fully focused  on getting OUT.

If on the other hand, you have been struck by how the economists and business leaders and top academics involved in research funding, have all been urging caution on the potential dosh front and you believe that a strong economy is paramount – otherwise how can you sort anything? – then you are probably planning on adding your voice to staying IN.

It strikes me, however, that along with the back-stabbing there is wealth of misinformation on both sides.  Of the sixty-five million of us living in the UK, only around three million are EU Nationals. On the other hand, about five million Brits live abroad, so they’ve still got more of us bellowing at the waiters and demanding more chips than the other way round. (It does give me a wry smile when I hear the Outers complaining that the least those coming here could do is speak fluent English.)  Of those three million, over two-thirds are in employment and contributing to the national coffers. And it is a statistical fact as well as my personal opinion, that if anyone is going to swing the lead and bleed the benefit system dry, it is more likely to be a home-grown Brit than an incoming (and in my experience, very hard-working) Pole.

The hard truth is that we need immigrant workers – the NHS would fall apart without them – and since one in five of our care workers comes from elsewhere, so would lots of the elderly. As for them having nowhere to live, do you know how much of the land that makes up England actually has buildings on it? 2.27%  Yes, I was staggered too.  We’ll just put up some more houses on the other 97%. If all those ex-pats get sent home, we’ll certainly need to!

As far as our wealth and financial stability goes, there’s a tough truth to be faced there too. Nobody knows. Not one of our politicians, experts, pundits or blokes from the pub actually has a clue what the effect of leaving the EU would have on the state purse. It’s all guesswork. It could be brilliant; it might be disaster.

As a friend old enough to have been able to vote the first time around, observed: there is nobody left with any experience of how to run the country without being in Europe. At the end of the day, for all the hypotheses and fears, with the xenophobia and clutching of the Tetleys teabags to the patriotic chests at one end of the spectrum and the idealism surrounding diversity and joys of European culture at the other, what we vote for on Thursday will come down to instinct. Mine says that for all the annoying and petty bureaucracy that comes out of Brussels, we are better off, on balance, with the devil we know.

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