And Life Goes On For The Rest Of Us

Yesterday, we watched parents bury a lovely 5 year old, one month short of his sixth birthday:

If you ever have to, our hearts honestly go out to you. It was, simply put, indescribable. As the priest said, “Parents do not expect to bury their children.”

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Today, we just had to get home. On our journey back from the London vicinity (his family is from Essex), we experienced close to the full gamut of what one expects in Brownite Britain.

Before we even got out the in-laws’ front door, we heard “Batman” was causing traffic mayhem for thousands:

Drivers were stuck in long queues after three lanes were closed on the M25 because of a protest held by a fathers’ rights activist dressed as Batman…

My wife thought my suggestion — that police tranquilizer dart him, or if necessary, shoot him — was a bit harsh.

“How many people might he have just put in danger of death themselves!” I fumed [not in the mood for this today], “or have had special days in their lives ruined, owing to his tying up half of southern England with that stunt? Just ’cause he’s got a personal gripe, doesn’t mean that everyone else should have to suffer. While he might not get to see him or her as much as he wishes, at least his kid is alive. Fight terror? ‘Climate change!’ Oh, please. This Government can’t get a ‘Batman’ off a gantry!”

“Of course they can’t get him!” the wife laughed. “He’s ‘Batman!’”

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So we decided to avoid the M25 completely, and come home cutting off that corner. Well, we’ve had better ideas. For, obviously, thousands of other people thought to try that also.

As we slowly made our way around the one minute it’s 3 lanes, next it’s 1 lane, delightful A406/A205 (the North/South Circular), at one point we passed below an informal, black “Shariah4TheUK” banner hanging from an overpass. There will be a meeting I think somewhere involving “Euston,” if you’re interested. (Myself, I wasn’t actually all that interested in pinning down the exact location, date and time.)

“I knew you’d love that one!” the wife blurted out, as we crept underneath it. It took us two hours to get through our old north London stomping grounds, which include some of the stupidest intersections ever invented by humanity.

While this blog has a polite rant, the engineers responsible for the lay out of Hanger Lane and Henlys Corner, really deserve Guantanamo.

Naturally, there was an accident at the top of the M3, and police closed the road for a time. Roadworks later on the M27. But first alien pods caravanners.

Summer Fridays, caravanners are required to slow the 2 lane (in places) M3 to a crawl. It is in “The Caravanner’s Handbook,” wethinks.

We finally got home after having to stop twice, 4 hours later, following a trip that usually takes no more than 2.

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“Batman” will get a slap for messing up the southeast. Your average soldier also has gotten a slap for forgetting his rail card:

SOLDIER Zachary Hoyland was kicked off a train by a jobsworth conductor as he returned home on leave after risking his life in Iraq.

The 19-year-old rifleman, still in desert fatigues and carrying his helmet and body armour, was looking forward to a hero’s welcome.

But just one stop from home after a three-day journey, he was ordered to produce his armed forces rail discount card.

Travel-weary Zachary explained the card was in his barracks, which was locked.

To his amazement, he was ordered to pay £55.50p excess fare…

Could that dope conductor have possibly for a moment thought, this could be my son, and then suggested, “Hey, you have to pay a fare, and don’t have a card. I can’t give you special treatment; but I tell you what, let me buy you a ticket?”

I know, I know. What am I thinking? These days?