This morning a workie, accelerating past the nursery (yes, really), gravelled himself to a halt at the pinch point that I was already passing through. He may have been doing double the speed limit—well, 150% anyway—but was he driving unsafely? Er, yes. Anyway, along with the building work behind our flat, these chaps have also been indulging in a little demolition work. A speedbump has finally yielded to daily misuse.
The bumps are modular, and each whack on the corner piece, by flatbeds and white vans trying to avoid the ignominy of slowing down, has finally loosened it. Closely followed by the next piece along. With any luck, before work is finished the lacklustre employees of the building firm (“Site safety begins here”, they say just past the point where the road ceases to be a public right of way—before then it’s presumably a free-for-all) should eventually be able to accelerate unhindered from the main road as far as the nearest tiny child.
I should be writing for the Mail.