Daft Old Duffer returns, this time with his view on the melting roads. Guest opinion articles do not necessarily reflect the views of the publication. Ed
Back in the days of my youth (ish) I took a job as Assistant Works Engineer in a large factory.
The factory had, in turn a large and complex internal road system, used by a mix of motorised traffic and pedestrians – and with, of course no pavements to keep the two apart.
A universal problem
There was, as a result, a continuing need for road markings – including into and out of buildings. Road markings that could withstand being constantly driven and scuffed over.
And, because the problem was a universal one, a constant stream of ‘Technical Sales Representatives’ who were keen to assure us that their firm had at last solved the problem.
Which, in those pre-vinyl days, none had.
Unbelievable incompetence
Thus the roads were continuously being blocked off – inevitably affecting production – so the surfaces could be meticulously cleaned and once again painted. After which we all watched as the shiny new markings rubbed and faded and flaked away just like all the previous attempts.
And the various production managers,with their foremen and chargehands and everybody who had their bonuses affected sneered at the unbelievable incompetence of the Engineering Department.
Including me, who had only just arrived..
Silent heroes?
At last the day arrived when we acquired a paint that actually did work. Problem solved.
Result? – utter silence. No-one said, congrats, you finally fixed it. Or, thank goodness for that, it’s been a thorn in our side for years.
Fair enough – the ball had been in our court.
Taking the initiative
At much the same time my newly arrived eye was able to identify some ways to make life a little easier here and there and at the same time save some considerable production and maintenance moneys.
So I proceeded to put them into practice. In each and every case in the teeth of those who stood to benefit.
Cries of, ‘that’s not possible’, ‘It’s been tried before and it never worked,’ arose all around.
But I persisted. And was proven right.
Thank goodness, for if I’d been wrong on any one of them, my head would have rolled.
As it was, because I was right, once again not a word was said on the subject ever again.
(though you can be sure the various managers affected would have quietly taken credit for the savings and increased production in their monthly reports).
That’s just the way life is.
It’s called progress
It’s against this background that I view the kerfuffle over the melting tar. I believe it is entirely probable that the supplier concerned, ever aware of the call by those who lay and maintain our roads for cheaper and cheaper alternatives, developed what seemed to pass all the tests and offered same to our Council – perhaps on an experimental basis.
And that is why they are so readily agreeing to pay all remedial costs.
Of course, this leads all those of us not involved to do a Jeremey Paxman and rant on about incompetence and sharp practice and how stupid our lot are for falling for such a scam.
I prefer to believe it comes under the heading of progress. Which on occasion goes wrong and has to be corrected.
Footnote
And I can’t resist a footnote here: it is my normal practice to lay out my take on a subject and then shut up so everyone else can have a go. Even when that ‘having a go’ is mindless and bigoted abuse.
But just this once – and with Sally’s forbearance –
So, to Big Ears – I was born and raised in Hackney, in the East End of London, and my family was forcibly removed, along with the rest of the street as part of London’s pre-war slum clearance programme.
So much for your ‘class snob’ remark.
And No 5: “Maybe other blog authors have no opinion or interest in the Island”
Or maybe, not knowing everything about every subject under the sun, other blog users prefer to keep quiet until they have something useful to contribute.
Image: James Pickett under NC BY 2.0
