HS2. Neither Here Nor There.

Only the cow seems to be in focus with HS2 Ltd

Lots of speeches and stuff about the new high speed rail link this week. It doesn't seem to be coming particularly close to here so my comments are not in the NIMBY category, just what I've been thinking over the last year or two generally.

Two things bother me: it's going to cost an extraordinary amount of money and take an extraordinarily long time to complete. It's being sold to us on some strange North | South lines, somehow making Northerners feel more connected to us Southerners. No way is some railway going to do that. Admittedly they may be better connected in 2030 or whenever but I can't see that making much of a difference to anyone's attitude either side of Rutland or wherever South becomes North.

The one good thing that the project could have going for it might be the large number of construction jobs that it would create, so removing a good few hundred thousand from the Job Seekers' queues and I suppose I might be a little more convinced if it were being mostly funded by the savings in welfare benefits but no-one's come up with those figures yet which tends to make me believe it won't be by any stretch of Treasury imagination. That's pretty long-term, too, and the vast majority of beneficiaries over the next few years, when we most need the jobs and something to boost the economy, would be lawyers, planners and people on both sides of all the inevitable negotiations promoting or denigrating this and that. Graphic designers, too, should do well as there'll be logos, leaflets and lots of lovely web sites to make. If you take a look at the current rambling and impenetrable bundle of text and PDFs that comprise the on-line information for all this you'll see why there'll need to be a lot of money spent on that!

So we're trying to pay off the huge debts inherited from Labour's crazy spending years and holding back everyone's pay, encouraging people to work longer and cutting back here, there and everywhere but feel it's OK to spend vast amounts on a railway line that's not going to produce any discernible benefit to the nation or most people or businesses until most current CEOs have long retired and moved to Spain or Switzerland or gone back to India? I can just about swallow tough times ahead if the debts do get cleared but if there is money to spend on a project or three then this is most definitely not one I can support.

Things are changing dramatically and will continue to do so apace. More people are now working from home. Firms don't need to be in cities anything like as much. The internet has developed to a point where communication and working on-line are just natural. The speed and reliability of internet services is such that it hardly matters where you live now and, once the providers really get their acts together, anyone anywhere will, before the tunnelling and flattening commences, be able to work efficiently wherever they happen to be, North, South, East and West. Even in the Midlands. Yes, there'll always be goods to transport from one place to another but I'm not so sure we shall be looking to transport people across vast distances or that there will be a particularly strong demand from those who do have to travel from London to Leeds to be able to do so that much more rapidly.

Wherever they start from and wherever they fall out of the new carriages, they'll still have that tricky problem of getting to a station in the first place and, unless every Yorkshire manufacturer is housed in some huge multi-storey factory next to New Leeds Station they'll need to travel along M, A and maybe even B roads and avoid sheep to reach their actual destination.

The reason why people don't travel around as much as they might is because the two ends can often be a pain. We don't need super links between the big cities. We need good, uncluttered links between all the little places and the big places. We're all scattered across the country - even those who think they live in big towns probably actually live on estates several miles out from the dot on the map that the town's name is attached to. Sort of under the P of Northampton.

If I want to go to Leeds or Manchester I get in my car and get to my destination near one or the other 2½ hours later. I have attended meetings galore where colleagues have taken far longer travelling from nearer points by public transport and who tend to start looking at their watches in the afternoon as they have to take this or that train at 4:56pm whereas I can just wander out, walk a few yards and drive away whenever the business is done. I have no problem with those who genuinely prefer the train or hate driving or even the few that actually like buses but I do get frustrated with those who try to tell me that it is more convenient or, worse, better for the environment. And it is, I believe, this annoying group of people who say that the train is the only way to take the strain, who seem to have won the day and influenced thinking behind this massive planned expenditure of our stretched resources.

I have never heard of anyone saying that they want to get from A to B more quickly by rail. But I have heard hundreds say they'd like to get from D, E F and G to H, I J and K via L, M N and O less stressfully and with a more reliable timing. If they're going by rail they'd like to be able to get to a station easily and park their car there at a reasonable cost and without walking miles. If they're going by car they'd like to avoid having to go through narrow town centres in long queues, lose shock absorbers from potholes or be stuck behind someone doing 62mph in the fast lane of a motorway. (He thinks he's doing 69¾mph but most speedos still tend to over-read by 10% - check your GPS speed one day!)

I have never heard of anyone going daily shopping by train, visiting relatives by just train or taking the kids to their friends parties by train on Sundays. This is Britain, not China or even France with their great tracts of land separating communities where high speed trains can really make a significant difference to journey times and whether they happen at all. Here we all live within a few hours of each other and knocking a bit off the middle bit of that journey time isn't going to make that much difference. We need nice roads that are well maintained, car parks, maybe more buses and links between out-of-town car parks and centres or even trains for that. Many would even appreciate the reopening of lots of little local train services between little places and some East-West lines too. But we don't need any particularly high speed, super tilting and whizzing bullet trains to make life more pleasant on our travels.

The anti-car brigade will already be shouting CO emission, of course, but great advances are being made in electric motors and I've always had doubts about the mass transfer to diesel. I find it hard to believe that all the soot that comes out of most diesel engines once their off the forecourt is that much better for my kids to breathe in. The diesel-lovers go on about economy but they have to do one hell of a big mileage to balance the extra initial cost, the higher fill-up costs and what can often be heavy servicing costs too on older models. Their cars also make horrible noises after a few months too. Give me the whoosh of a high speed train a few hundred yards away any day. So rather than moan about me driving a 2½ litre petrol car why doesn't the anti-car group join me in objecting to this high speed link thing and urge their buddies in Government departments to put the investment into expediting development of electric engines, other power devices and making roads smoother and car parks more friendly and all the things that would help us all get about more happily, less stressfully and more healthily too.

I have no idea how much could be achieved in improving normal rail services and facilities, roads and park-and-ride type things with the money being budgeted for the next 20 years on the High Speed Link but my guess is that not only would it be sufficient to make massive improvements right across the nation - even in Northumberland and Sussex and Cornwall who seem to get overlooked these days - in fact why not help Wales too - but it would also bring almost instantly lots of new jobs for a much wider range of people and proportionately far less top level planners and negotiators of the calibre the train thing will attract. By the end of 2013 we could all see a difference and some of us might even say Thank you, David and vote for him after all in 2015. 

Where am I?! Er, not too sure... We get to drive a Caterham 7.

Adrian and I set off on a chilly but very bright morning. I never cease to be amazed at how the weather always seems to sort itself out for our occasions here. I had plumbed the destination into my ancient TomTom which got us there nicely in time for a 9:30am arrival.

Inside the showroom were some fabulous-looking new cars in lovely colours. Outside was one rather odd-looking version in a strange shade of purple. Or brown, or pine-yellow, depending on how the sun caught it.

Still, who cares? It was a little sports car and looked cool. Well, cold, actually. For the 'Prisoner' car album I changed it to a shade of green anyway!

Once we'd had our papers checked, copied and filed it was time to learn what the knobs did, what sort of fuel to put in and all that sort of stuff. That didn't take long and I don't think either of us paid that much attention anyway. I got to drive first - the embarrassing bit when the regular staff look on as day trippers like us do kangaroo starts or generally make idiots of themselves. I managed to avoid stalling, at least. There was absolutely no spare room anywhere in this car so Adrian was clutching the Tom Tom in his lap. I hadn't worked out a route back. I thought we could probably find the A5, which shouldn't have been far away, and rumble on down that all the way home. We certainly needed to avoid the M69 and M1 route but, of course, that's what TomTom expected us to take.

We started off heading West out of the entrance instead of East which was the way to Leicester and the way we'd come in via the motorways. I was convinced that going the other way would bring us to the A5 eventually. Adrian was battling with the wind, my driving and the TomTom which I'd reset to avoid the motorway but which was still difficult to read without glasses and impossible to hear above the roar of the exhaust and other things.

After a while, though, Adrian reckoned that signs to Nuneaton weren't really what we wanted so we turned around and headed back to Leicester. Unknown to us, we were actually just a few miles from the A5! I was dreading anything like roundabouts and traffic lights - indeed anything requiring me to stop as the brakes weren't exactly reassuring and battling with traffic on multi-lane ring roads when you haven't a clue where you're going was worrying, probably more for my passenger than me. I had had the chnace to get a bit of practice at roundabouts and take-offs, though, so the earlier diversion may actually have proven life-saving, or certainly no claims bonus-saving.

Finally we're heading towards the A5 and pick it up again. We could relax for a while. Adrian needed a pee. That figured. We spotted a Services sign and pulled in. The 'services' were none too obvious, though and after a couple of circuits we concluded that the fuel part was completely dead. I parked up and Adrian went off to relieve himself somewhere. The car had plastic side window panels that opened diagonally up to allow exit. The rear view mirrors appeared to be stuck on these.

I was looking at the one on my side and wishing it wasn't there as it made the inside quite narrow, you couldn't rest your right arm on anything and the clear plastic was about as clear as a dirty goldfish bowl would be. It looked as if it ought to just lift off. It did. Great. We removed both and stuffed them into the tiny boot. Back on the road, I'm still driving but beginning to quite enjoy the blast, especially now that there was no figuring out of lanes to do. The little car had amazing acceleration but above 50 with the side panels now missing, the wind was really blowing us around.

Once we got to familiar territory in Weedon, Adrian took the wheel for the last few miles to his house where he thought Sarah might like to go for a spin or, at least chuckle at the two of us up to yet another crazy something. I realised just how rough it must have been for him. I had had an exhaust pipe running along my side which (a) warmed the air a bit and (b) diverted the wind somewhat. On the other side there was just the straight side and you got the full cold blast of whatever mph was on offer. That was quite chilly and I was glad to have taken a scarf.

Photos at the Pinckard Emporium taken we finally arrived in the village and launched ourselves noisily up the drive and into the paddock. Now, there I had expected a big welcome committee and offers of sausage rolls, sandwiches and a cup of steaming hot something to warm the old cockles and all stations south. There was no-one around. We parked somewhere in the middle of the field and managed to extract ourselves from the cockpit.

A few minutes later, as if awoken by the exhaust, people roll up and, more importantly, food and drink roll up too. Of course, the first thing all the men do is to take the thing to bits.

Once they'd put it back together again we got lots of photos taken, Richard doing his usual excellent job of getting my best side and not shaking the camera one iota. Kirri and Matti arrive and crawl all over it. I quite wanted Kirri to have a go at driving but it was a bit risky as there is no telling what the throttle is going to do until it's done it and by then you can be half-way towards a bunch of cows and the brakes being what they are, the other half of that way can disappear all too rapidly. Instead I took him for a long spin around the lanes and frightened the life out of several rabbits. That worked well and so I took a number of others out on a variation of the tour, making sure to accelerate as damn fast as I could whenever the opportunity arose. One lady seriously looked like falling out at one point and I suspect that most will have secretly vowed never to get in a car with me ever again. One may not even have done the vowing particularly secretly.

We did have a great time, though, and the weather was wonderful. God knows what it would ahve been like had it been raining or just a couple of degrees colder.

In order to get back before the place closed at 3:30 we reckoned we should leave by 2pm. The chap at the Caterham Centre had actually asked if we could get back by 3pm which was really just so he could get home early and we didn't pay too much attention to that but we did have 3:15pm as a vague target time which a 2pm departure should more or less match.

I finished the last guest run at 2:25pm. Hmm. We'd better dash. And dash we did. Adrian had wisely had a few beers so I was still in the driving seat and had quite a job on my hands to get back in time. I felt sorry for my companion as the return trip required 80mph rather than the wind-friendly 50mph and he was being blown to hell. He did his best with the TomTom but it was virtually useless as he could hardly focus on it and I could neither see the display nor hear any instructions. I reckoned we'd be OK and might even spot a sign off the A5 for our destination.

Somewhere on the way, though, we must have lost the A5 and we made several trips around a roundabout that offered us the M1 and not a lot else that we recognised as being en route. We opted for an Easterly direction and found ourselves in a pleasant little town called Walcote where we topped up the fuel tank. Heading further East didn't bring any recognisable signs so we whipped round and headed back to the familiar roundabout. We avoided the M1 there but we had to employ Tom²'s services or we'd never get there in time. Unfortunately, we forgot to do the 'avoid M1' thing and we eventually got bundled onto the M1 at the next junction up and I had no choice if we were not to be stuck with the go-cart for the whole weekend (and the bill for an extra few days' hire and insurances!)

10 miles or so up the M1 and another few on the M69 were crazy. I wound up the speedo to just under the ton and conversation was impossible. We just hung on to our clothes and anything else that might have been blasted out of the vehicle. We could really have done with those sides back in place. Finally, heading along the road where we were convinced the Centre should be and we see the white Caterham they'd parked outside driving in. Phew, someone's still there and we'd made it in time!

Getting into my own car a few minutes later was a really weird experience. I could feel nothing with either my hands or feet. I couldn't hear the engine or feel the clutch biting or accelerator revving. I just had to rely on the dials and hope for the best. The steering wheel felt massive but it was such a relief to be out of the wind and be warm and in comfort again, with music to listen to!

Even by the time we arrived back in the village I couldn't feel much with my feet and I was completely exhausted. It had been, though, a cool time and a day to remember. Adrian, as ever, was great company and never complained once about my driving or the blast. Everyone who had wanted a trip got one, I hope, and we had some super nibbles and a fun time to boot.

The village has a Bee Swarm Co-ordinator

Sandwiched between Ballet Classes and Bridge Clubs in our Pattishall Parish Directory I was delighted to see that we have a Bee Swarm Co-ordinator!

The magazine is one of those A5 home-produced things that could have almost any date of the cover from the last 20 years and still probably be pretty accurate, all Arial font and little adverts with clip-art you'll recognise from Windows 3.1 days but it did make me laugh this morning so loudly that I disturbed a bunch of jackdaws on the Chairman's roof.

Astcote really do have to get their act together, though, as the village is only mentioned twice with one being for the list of people who do things Methodically on Sundays at the Church and the second as the letters coming after the E in Eastcote. Cold Higham, that place whose name we usually only whisper, on the other side of the A5, occupy most of the content and Pattishall to the West most of the rest. Nice to see that the very lengthily named Pattishall Parish Hall and Playing Fields Association raised a nice pile to keep the hall and field going but I must make sure the shorter Paddock Party Committee get a few pages in the next edition and come up with some ideas to counter the Cold Higham (shhhhh!) invasion.

Breaking news from the magazine that needs wider circulation: about 20 people are going to be supplied with speed guns between 6 August and 17 September! So watch out. Apparently they have to have an hour's training for, er, 'Health & Safety purposes'! Pity, I thought it might have been to show them how to leap out from bushes and stand in the middle of the road, corduroy legs apart brandishing their weapon. That'd sure slow me down.

S1X AH five years on

Almost five years ago my car was stolen and I have trying ever since to get the registration S1X AH back.

Last week I trundled down to the local DVLA office, having finally gathered the various documents they needed, and paid some money to the helpful guy behand the screen to keep it on retention until I get a car I can put in on. It had been one of those jobs on my to-do list that had been transferred from diary to diary since 2004, always needing something from someone like insurance companies, finance companies and DVLA themselves but finally all was in place.

Then, today I get a letter saying that they're terribly sorry but I can't put the number on retention - I have to transfer it to a vehicle! They'll retain my money until then and waive some fee as they advised me incorrectly but that doesn't help much. My present car is about 2 months too old to take that registration so I've got to sell that and buy something else. This old BMW's been great and even with 140,000 miles on the clock seems to leave most other stuff standing on my travels (apart from Dunstable where we're all more or less stationary anyway!) and does nearly 40mpg even with my driving. It's not worth much and selling can take ages unless I find someone prepared to do a part exchange. Trouble is, garages add on a good £500 - £1000 which almost doubles the price of a cheap car and I'll probably get an effectively miniscule amount for mine. I may finish up having to park it in the paddock and having two cars until someone comes along with a reasonable offer.

I cannot see any logic in DVLA's insistence that the plate has to go on a vehicle. No chance of changing them though as there's bound to be rules and regulations so . . . if anyone wants a really good BMW 323iSE for a very modest price, let me know. I wonder how long DVLA will give me to find something else? Hmmm. Watch this space.

"But it said 7/3d on the box!"

Muliply that by 750 and you'll be nearer the value of this now, as long as you've got the box and haven't been banging it up against the skirting board, in a manner of speaking.

Now I know I said I was going to change my car for something smaller but this wasn't quite what I intended! A trip to a Toy Fair at NEC Birmingham with the Chairman of the Paddock Party Committee was well worthwhile, though, and I returned considerably worse off but pleased with some new additions to the old collection.

More on my Facebook album

Incidentally, with just over 100 days to Party No. 5, expect some interesting 'minutes' in the near future!

One of these would do just fine

Adrian P provided this great snap of a lovely Sunbeam Alpine parked a mile or two down the road. If the owner happens to spot this and wants a good home for it then I'd be more than a little interested. And he or she doesn't have to look like Ria Bartok.

Bangers