Jack the Ripper got away with murder. Now we have Ken the Ripper. He gets away with daylight (and twilight) robbery. That is, if you are a motorist. Don't get me wrong, I have a lot of time for Ken Livingstone. He has done a great job in London - providing you don't drive.
I was hopelessly lost in W1 the other day. I don't usually drive to town, but on this occasion decided to. Anyway, back to being lost - well I wasn't really lost, just wasn't exactly certain where I was. Well, I knew where I was - in Portland Street, en route to Bloomsbury Square. I just wasn't too sure how to get there. I took a left turn at the end of the road, and noticed that all the traffic (apart from me) was buses and taxis.
Oh blimey! I had veered into Oxford Street - a restricted thoroughfare. None of us in the car had noticed a sign prohibiting us, but obviously there was one. We weren't stopped, flashed at or hooted off the street, but I guess somewhere there was a camera, taking my registration number. As I write this, the wheels of the DVLC and TfL are doubtless in harmony, printing out my summons.
If only Ken was Mayor of London in 1888. Whitechapel would have been a safer place - providing you weren't in your own trap.
Thoughts from a Wiltshire Moonraker
About Me
- Moonraker
- I was born into an idyllic world such as one reads in the books of Enid Blyton. I grew up, and indeed, am still growing up, on these books. It was a wonderful, cosy world. Crackling log fires, heaps of food and lashings of ginger beer. Hurrah!
6 comments:
Ouch - watch your steps!!
I thought I was! I even said, "We mustn't go into Oxford Street, it's buses and taxis only!" What a jerk...
Blimey, you're braver than I am! I used to go into London a lot for work (including Bloomsbury Square, funnily enough, where we had an office) but you wouldn't have caught me driving around those streets. I've driven into London on a few occasions, but not as far in as Oxford Street. It's a nightmare! I swear the road signs are meant to deliberately confuse. I think they're set in such a way so that if you drive in towards London and follow the signs, you end up skirting around your destination and arriving in Wales.
Funnily enough, we had 10 minutes to kill before the dreaded Congestion Charge expired, so I kept driving west, on the Marylebone Road. Why is it when you're killing time, it drags its heels so much. It felt as if we really were getting close to Wales as the seconds ticked!
BTW, no fine has arrived...yet!
Don't hold your breath!!
Still no fine!
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