Petrol, panic and perception

 Here we go again. Another news story blown up out of proportion with serious consequences for huge numbers of people. Nine years ago the fears of a tanker drivers' strike (that never happened) created massive demand for petrol that saw many stations run dry and others besieged by long queues of motorists desperate to top up.Now, with a few BP stations having to close because of a shortage of tanker drivers, the fear has returned, generating the self-reinforcing "rational" behaviour of drivers queuing to fill up because they don't want to be trumped by all the other drivers queuing to fill up because they don't want to be the ones left out repeat ad nauseam.

 These are some of the typical comments on the Ruislip Facebook group posted today:

The cause of the shortage of tanker drivers is, of course, Brexit which at a stroke forced large numbers of drivers to return home but provided no home-grown replacements. We learned today from the hapless "Minister of Transport" that his department is considering whether temporary visas might help' naturally the most dysfunctional government department, the Home Office, is unhappy and will probably block it on the grounds that the British people voted to take control, or something.

Wholesale gas prices have increased sharply and shortages of other workers is pushing up inflation,  President Biden  has made it clear to prime minister Johnson that the UK is not in any sense a priority for a trade deal, a headline I saw in passing on one of the Irish daily papers stocked by my supermarket noted that UK exports to Ireland were down a third since Brexit, and now the media are raising alarm about whether the shelves will be fully stocked for Xmas. Jeepers. We really are the guys, aren't we?

 

A Bridge Too Far

Mayhem on the roads in beautiful Ruislip today. Two serious accidents this morning, one in Ickenham and one in South Ruislip and now this afternoon another one (or perhaps two) in the same spot as the second, at the the low bridge outside South Ruislip station.  (Information from the local group on Facebook and pic courtesy of Google Maps).

The roads cut are lifelines to the A40; thanks to RAF Northolt that sprawls right across the southern border of the town, there are not many main roads in that direction. Meanwhile Breakspear Road to the north-west is closed (yet again) for HS2 work.  I'm rather pleased to have given up my volunteer job for Age UK earlier this year - this involved driving all round the borough collecting donations for the shops. There is a peculiar kind of stress associated with being stuck in traffic, not knowing what is going on, how long it may last or what alternatives may exist, compounded when you are made late for an appointment. I'm glad not to have any of that any more.

The Ruislip Riviera

The weekend that is reluctantly drawing to a close today has been the hottest May Bank Holiday recorded in the UK. And the hottest part of the UK? Our very own RAF Northolt where 28.7c was registered yesterday. The combination of a break, heat and blue skies did strange things to the minds of many of my fellow citizens who made for the open spaces in unfeasibly huge numbers.

In beautiful Ruislip the impact was at its greatest in the streets around the Lido. My curiosity piqued by many comments on Facebook groups, I cycled up to see for myself. The traffic on the main road from Ruislip High Street was at a standstill long before the turnoff into the little road that is the only  direct car access to the Lido. A warning sign informed motorists that the Lido was full but very few appeared to take any notice.

pic: Alan Pritchard on Facebook

At the entrance to the Lido, with a backdrop of cars attempting (utterly in vain) to enter a full car park then trying to turn round again, a steady stream of holidaymakers were tramping in to join those already encamped on the little beach. From the entrance it seemed pretty busy:

pic: It's one of mine

but up close it was staggering:

pic: Alan Pritchard on Facebook

Some of those in this throng had parked recklessly on the main road and were getting parking tickets; others had commandeered any strip of unused pavement they could find nearby.

I can understand why parents would wish to take their kids out to enjoy the fine weather. It's a shame that there are far too many of them for the geography to accommodate. And I must admit a bit of smug self-righteousness as I pedalled home past the stationary vehicles. Ironically there was plenty of parking not far away, on roads near to the woods that surround the Lido, but this is the sort of thing us locals keep quiet about.

Ruislip-on-Sea

Fantastic, though a little late, news that must surely grip all residents of the most beautiful suburb in commuter-land. Only a few years ago (geologically speaking), Ruislip was by the sea. Yes, our ancestors strolled up and down the strand, threw pebbles at passing coelacanths, bought tasty mammoth-on-a-stick treats and spent hours in the amusement arcades with the one-armed bandit (or Ug the 'armless as he was known).

Ruislip 56 million years ago	Ruislip today - the bustling heart of the suburb

OK, it was 56 million years ago so there probably wasn't even a Dreams' sale going on and the only extensive delays to public transport would have been when a sabre-toothed tiger jumped in front of a dugout canoe, but there was plenty going on in what they are already calling the "Ruislip beds" - marshes, swamps and animal in trees according to the boffins who are digging the test pits along the proposed route for HS2. That doesn't surprise me much. As one who regularly walks in that area, I can testify that there are plenty of marshes and swamps in which the unwary hiker can easily step thus blasting mud all over one's lower trouserings.

So come to historic Ruislip and marvel at the prehistoric landscape just 33 metres under your feet. Genuine samples of mud, which must surely resemble very closely the stratum that is so exciting the geologists, may be purchased, at very reasonable prices, from this very establishment. You can also buy pottery very similar to the stuff made by the Beaker folk, pencils on which you can scratch the word 'Ruislip' if you so wish and why not take home a box of our very special rock cakes (made with real local rocks which may be the very same that once stunned an inoffensive trilobite).

Car spotting time

As seen in my local supermarket (in Ruislip, of course)

I must confess to feeling a tad envious of this one.

The Pleasures of the Market

[Not another heavy piece about economics is it? It's years since you studied it, you know: Ed]
Actually, no. This is about a real market, the craft and foodie market that graces beautiful Ruislip once a month, held in the medieval surroundings of the Great Barn. Today will be one of the main events of the year with only one more fair before Xmas. It was held yesterday as well but the rain and murk kept us away. Sadly, the awful weather blighted another key event of the local calendar, the switching on of the Xmas lights as part of Ruislip Manor Fun Day (but given that this event was relegated to a rather tawdry set of stalls in a car park, compared to taking up the whole of the shopping area of Victoria Road in recent years, it was a bit of a damp squib anyway). Today the skies have cleared, the airs are mild and the breezes light so we will make the effort.

Despite the enormous range of goods in supermarkets, there are always things at the craft market that are different. A lot of stuff is made locally, by the people who turn up every month to sell it. If you want to know what's in the jar, you have only to ask. There's specialist olive oils, buffalo meat, real Arbroath smokies, fresh cakes, whole ciabattas and sourdoughs, tasty and well-filled meat pies, cheeses from nearby farms, any amount of chutneys and sauces and plenty besides [Enough, it's a long time till lunch: Ed]. 

We don't buy a huge amount but it's always nice to mill around, inhale the aromas from the paella stalls and hog roasts and nibble the odd freebie. There is no road traffic to disrupt the free flow of people and no music blaring at us. There are almost no branded goods on display. The greetings cards, the knitware, the pottery and the candles are all made by the stallholders. Ruislip ceased to be a village a century ago but on market days - and in some sense on Remembrance Sunday - it reverts to feeling a bit like one.

A six iron, I think, and get the secateurs ready.

I went for a real ramble today, around the woods and open country that surrounds Ruislip Lido. There was a pleasant surprise at the halfway point, on the Northwood golf course. Last year they cut down a long hedgerow along the side of one of the fairways. This year I was delighted to see a blaze of colour from an extensive wild flower meadow that has taken its place.

Not bad, eh?

Herons over Ruislip

I was enjoying a coffee as a well-earned reward for the efforts expended in my earlier post today when I looked up across the back garden to see an unexpected visitor.

My neighbour's shed seems an unlikely haunt

A zoom shot as it admires itself in the glass roof panel

I would rather these birds kept well away. Fortunately, at this time of year, the goldfish in the little pond are well camouflaged under a thick layer of plants but they will be exposed later on. Now I know what sheep farmers must feel when the wolves are circling...

Fun in the sun

As the temperature climbed to around 30c on this glorious day, it was time for your correspondent to venture into the depths of beautiful Ruislip to sample the much-heralded Ruislip Manor Fun Day. The hordes of young people certainly had a good time. The rest of us wandered around the unbelievably noisy rides, admired the Inspector Morse style police car and enjoyed a refreshing Pimms courtesy of the gym of which Mrs. Commuter is a member.

So here are some pictures of the giant auditorium complete with vast cheering audience, the death-defying sky ride ("it goes up, it comes down", the mind-boggling whirling tea-cups and afore-mentioned vehicle.

OK, job done, I was there and I have the evidence to prove it. Sunday Times photo-journalist of the year, here we come.

Ruislip obliterated

The Guardian has published a series of articles to mark the 150th anniversary of the first services running on the tube. One of their reporters, the intrepid Stephen Moss, undertook to travel the entire length of the Central Line. He gets points for starting at Ongar and taking the privately run train to North Weald and then bus to the terminus at Epping. And more points for treating the branch to Ealing as of lesser importance than the bit that goes out to our part of the country. He "felt the lure of West Ruislip at the end of the line" and went on (and all this is going in into our dossier, you know) " What is it about Ruislip that makes it a national joke?" and then the inevitable reference to Leslie Thomas' Tropic of Ruislip. [A comic novel published in 1974: Ed] He made it safely to West Ruislip and this seems to have caused him no little distress and bewilderment. He emerged, in the dark, onto the flyover that crosses the mainline that continues up to High Wycombe and beyond, and saw nothing of note. He asked someone if there was a town there and was, quite wrongly and perhaps maliciously, pointed toward Ickenham. He then concluded, unbelievably, that despite having three stations named after it, Ruislip did not exist and ended his journey in a pub not far from the station. He didn't even make it into central Ickenham where he might have admired the well and the fish bar.

Oh dear. Where to start. [Control yourself. Take one of your pills: Ed] I'm sorry Mr. Moss went the wrong way and entirely missed Ruislip. I'm not impressed that he did not twig that the two Metropolitan line stations (that he does not mention) might just possibly be where Ruislip town is centred. I'm even less impressed that he did not bother to look at a map which should have shown him, in no uncertain terms, that Ruislip does indeed have a town centre and it is anchored on its medieval roots with the ancient church, almshouses, 16th century pubs and the Great Barn, built in the 13th century and one of the finest examples of its kind in Middlesex.

So do come back Mossy. Take the real railway, the Met, next time. Emerge at the classic late-Victorian station of Ruislip (not West, not South, just unadorned Ruislip). Stroll up the High Street. Enjoy a drink or meal in one of the many bars, pubs, cafes, bistros and restaurants that line it. Wander round the Manor Farm estate, where there is a real village green and pond, a Norman motte-and-bailey mound and the meadows through which the River Pinn runs on its timeless course to the sea [er, junction with the Colne actually: Ed]

Oh and the sex-obsessed suburban couples that Mr. Thomas chose to populate his book? They're here all right, nudge nudge, know what I mean squire? please excuse shaky typing, arf arf.

Ruislip, SW15

I noticed a correction in today's Grauniad (I only take it for its excellent coverage of pro-am celebrity tiddly-winks) referring to beautiful Ruislip. You can read the whole shocking feature here but, in essence, the fine but somewhat careless folk at the Garudian had placed our noble borough in (oh the shame, oh the horror) in South (pronounced 'sarf'), London, in a story about the mayor, one B. Johnson, opening yet another library to add to our world-renowned collection of cultural artefacts. [another long and complex sentence. I've told you about this before:Ed]

Anyway let me clarify matters for those who like to believe everything they read in the press. Ruislip is firmly placed in the most elegant part of North-West London, has no intentions of moving and even if it did it would be to somewhere suitable such as the outskirts of Cheltenham, Harrogate or Bath. South of the river? No way. We will defend to the death our right to remain as far north of it as geography permits and if that requires diverting the ancient and historic river Pinn to make a stronger barrier against those who would rob us of our birthright, then I know that we will make the sacrifice. [Time for your medication: Ed]

Sunset over Ruislip

Mrs. Commuter drew my attention to this lovely sunset - the photo doesn't reproduce  all the vibrant colours but I think it marks a nice end to the day. Especially as I wasn't working today.

A few cold inches

Yes, the snow is back and though the tube website shows that some trains are running, I don't trust that the system will remain running if there is further snow today so will stay at home. Here is the view from blizzard-struck Ruislip.

And driving would be no fun either

Bridge over troubled waters, or something

Whilst my station, Ruislip Manor, is being rebuilt, I have to travel onward to Ruislip at night. Then comes the big decision - to catch a train travelling back or to walk? This presents some interesting problems in timing. Let me first explain that there is only one exit at Ruislip. Passengers coming out of London must cross the tracks using the wonderful Victorian bridge - pic thanks to Chris Cobley - and thus emerge on the eastbound platform.

The westbound tracks curve sharply and trains are invisible, and unheard, until just a few seconds before they pull in. It takes exactly as long for the train to stop and open its doors as it does to walk briskly over the bridge. Here then is our first dilemma. If you alight some way from the bridge it is possible for an eastbound train to come and go before you can reach it. This is solved by alighting exactly by the bridge, from the middle carriage of the train. So far so good. But if there is a crowd going up the stairs, one can still be held back and miss a train. Most people leave the station rather than travel back, so it seems legitimate to use a certain energy in getting to the front of the mob and then legging it briskly. Indeed if one is to maximise the chances of getting an eastbound train this strategy is vital. I have had the doors close in my face before now. Yet it seems somewhat indelicate to beat off the old ladies and barge past the women with pushchairs when there is nothing actually in view - people can understand it if they see that you are running for a train but otherwise you stand revealed as an insensitive boor.

Why bother? Why not just stroll over the bridge, go with the flow, get into the groove and chill out (er, is this the right slang?). Because, my dear Watson, as I have demonstrated, it is perfectly possible that a train will come and go before one can get to the eastbound platform, and that is most frustrating. When this happens one must ask oneself, do I feel lucky? Shall I wait here for who knows how long (because London Underground make no information whatsoever available to passengers at this station) or start walking. Should I stay or should I go? (Hmm, sounds like a potentially catchy pop song). The trains do sometimes come through at the rate of one every three minutes. Or there can be a ten to fifteen minute gap. You just don't know. You can try counting the trains between Rayners Lane and Ruislip and estimate if the frequency appears normal but it doesn't mean anything. I know, I've tried. You cannot estimate with any accuracy the probability of the next train arriving soon merely by knowing how many trains have recently preceded it.

The last three nights I have barely had time to cross the bridge before my train has arrived, which is really nice (the lack of delay, not the rush down the steps). There's another four months of rebuilding to go. How many more heart-stopping moments?

A Rural Interlude

I was perhaps the only commuter in Britain to be blackberrying whilst waiting for a train last night. Seems a bit incongruous, doesn't it? Waiting for a train, yes, a normal state of affairs. But combined with a spot of fruit gathering? Strange but true. Ruislip station has a nice clump of bushes at the unfashionable end. And 'twas there, in the evening sunlight, that I dallied whilst waiting for a train to take me the trivial, but-not-worth-walking-it-due-to-the-heat, distance back to Ruislip Manor (the westbound platform remaining closed for rebuilding). Forewarned about the bushes I carried a suitable plastic bag and was able to fill same with a goodly number of extremely ripe, plump berries.

How long before some ghastly bureaucrat cottons on and starts agonising about the health and safety implications of thorny bushes growing on the platform? Well it's unlikely any of them read this blog so maybe the bushes will survive till the end of the season. After that I don't really care because when the building work at Ruislip Manor is complete then I won't need to go to Ruislip station. OTOH, it might be rather nice to make an annual detour one stop up the line to gather in nature's bounty. It satisfies the primitive instincts. I don't think I would have made a good hunter but I can gather with the best of them.