Could An M4 Relief Road Increase Anti- English Sentiment, Welsh Regional Differences And Alun Cairns' Master Plan?

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

The Welsh Government are planning to build an M4 relief road. This relief road would basically be to handle the heavy traffic around Newport.

Now let me say from the outset that I'm no expert on traffic (though if you think the M4 is busy try travelling along the M25 or the M11!) nor do I know about the environmental concerns that the proposed road would take. But two separate issues have made me wonder whether all the potential aspects to this road have been thought through.

Regular readers may remember some time back I chatted about the probability of a rise in anti English sentiment due to a combination of the abolition of the tolls on the Geraint Thomas bridge and the pitifully small number of social housing being built throughout Wales. What that would cause is that English people would buy houses along the M4 corridor up to Newport, which would be cheaper than those in the South West where they would commute to work crossing the toll-free bridge. Thus causing a anti-English resentment towards them which unless dealt with promptly might turn unpleasant.

Well surely this relief road, bringing potentially a better road network to this actual part of South Wales will only increase the likelihood of this happening? Predicting disturbances does not mean supporting them. But really Cardiff and Westminster need to sort out a way to resolve this or else it will happen mark my words.

But that's not all. I've read an article from a councillor in Bridgend worried that new business investment will basically stop west of Cardiff because of the improved links the M4 Relief Road would bring the M4 Corridor East of the capital. Essentially West Wales will become a backwater and East , from Cardiff,(including those commuters to England) will become a "Western Powerhouse".

And yes I used those words deliberately. Because whther through accident or design Alun Cairns will become a beneficiary of this road because it will help him in the vision of a regional economic base between South East Wales and South West England. Welsh Labour will have helped finance his ambition.

Possibly, just possibly, Welsh Labour have been played by Alun Cairns.

But I say again, this road might be needed, I don't know. What is needed though is more thought about it's social consequences. Or else it might be a catalyst for social unrest.

Until the next time.

Possibly.

Apparently McDonalds Is Now The New Beacon For Lost Old Ladies

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

It was all supposed to be so simple. My mother, coming down for her birthday from Essex (daughter still being at school) would, not knowing how to get to our new abode, go to Cardiff West services on Junction 33 of the M4. There she'd give me a ring, I'd go and drive there whereupon she'd follow me on the way to the apartment.

However at 8:30am the phone rings. I knew instantly something was wrong. It was my mother. There had been roadworks at junction 25 where all of a sudden she found herself forced to leave the motorway.

But where exactly was she? Lime Road Newport she was told. In a car park between a pub and a McDonalds. Frightened and alone she asked me to come and pick her up. Not having a Satnav or knowing the area that well of course I said yes.

Quick check on the internet revealed that the M4 closure was caused by work on the Bryn Glas tunnel in Newport. Now perhaps me or my mother should have checked on this, even so, what is the logic of roadworks on a Sunday in summer? If the weather was fine then my mother would not be the only person caught up in all of this.

There was another problem. I put Lime Road....then Lyme Road onto route planners. Nothing. Why was this? There was only one thing to it. Take the same turnoff as my mother and look for a Mcdonalds.

Still out of the apartment first thing I did was to get some petrol. Now a quick aside here. What is it about marketing types and the naming  of petrol?Went to Texaco where their fuel is called Premium and Supreme. This begs the question Premium to what? It surely can't be Supreme because if you're Supreme then you're all powerful.

BP is the same. They call their top oil Ultimate. Which suggests it will never be bettered. We all know though that it will be. So what will they call the new stuff "Ultimate Plus"? Don't think this has been thought through.

Anyway off I went. It was a journey of about half an hour and when I reached the junction I followed the signs for a diversion.....and went the wrong way to Pontypool. Turning back went back to the turnoff and going west instead. Took the first turning. There there was a Sainsburys and a sign with a big curly M on it. I was close.

But the road is a mix of residential and industrial estate. No sign of the big M and it's produce anywhere.

Lost in Newport

More Newport Lost Action

The road became a dead end. It was then I saw a road sign. Mcdonalds it said was open. But Lyne Road was closed, My first reaction was "Ahh Lyne Road" My second reaction was "closed?" Still I was clearly within spitting distance. But where to spit was another matter.

Decided to go back where I came and take the next turning along. It's there saw the big M and my mother waiting patiently.

She is grateful. I start to describe myself as the geriatic rescuer as I did for the rest of the day. We drive home.

Newport seems like an interesting place for a visit. Part new part old. Part Shabby part shiny. This contrast in a space closer than I've seen before in Wales. Worth a look for the future but not today.

So thankyou Mcdonalds.The new beacon for lost old ladies.

Doesn't mean I'll eat there more mind.

Until the next time.

London/Epping Part One: In Which I Travel To Epping Via Cardiff,Newport,London And Two Sore Feet

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

So the weekend with my mother begins. Brought on, I should explain now, by the fact that it's twenty five years since my father's death and I wanted to visit his grave to pay my respects.

Had a very early bath. Worked the afternoon/evening shift yesterday and had overslept. This meant that mentally and physically I was in a zombie mindset. Awake physically but my mind still in the land of nod.

Although I'd planned this visit as early as February the timing had proved to be unfortunate as a friend of my wife's was moving house today and would've been helping out otherwise. The wife was going to spend the day with her anyway. As it was Cardiff though was going to catch the London coach there.

My wife's friend is a perfect example of how life can throw you curveballs when you least expect. About two and a half years ago she was married and comfortable. Then she discovered her husband was having an affair. She is now divorced and moving outside of Cardiff. This is in no way putting myself on a patronising pedestal above her. For she has shown a resilience in the face of a personal crisis that I didn't show when made redundant.

I remember when she first told my wife when she first realised her now ex husband's infidelity. Assuming they were going to chat about things that wouldn't interest me I was in her living room reading (The Heart Of The Matter by Joseph Conrad as it happens. Didn't like it) whilst they were outside chatting. Goes to show that occasionally reading isn't important as the world immediately around you. It was also rather ironic as told my wife I'd suspected (though did not know) that he'd been having an affair months earlier.

Which is why just before 11am my wife took me to the Cardiff and not Bridgend coach stop in Sophia Gardens.

Bright in Cardiff

Coach Action

So off we go. A pre recorded message informs us that there are two "emergency exits" at "the front and the back". The one in the front being how I entered the coach and would leave it many hours later in Victoria. How then is that an "emergency exit"? 

We're also advised that there is a toilet at the back of the coach. What we're not advised was how the toilet door made an indiscreet noise horror film style to signal to everybody in the coach that it's being used.

Five minutes later we're in Cardiff castle for another pick-up point. Five minutes after that we're in the university section for another pickup point. I'd feel irritable but I was in the stage of being half asleep and half awake. There would I knew be a moment when I would nod off.

Not before stopping at Newport though

There was a woman on the coach who started to moan about the stiffness of the chairs and the length of time it took the good people from Newport. Was expecting her to moan about the crying baby as well but that didn't happen. Suspect she knew the limits.

No more stops now before London. Explains why soon after we left the stop I entered the land of nod. Half an hour later woke up.....in England.

Passed Membury services. There was still a long way to go. I tweeted that Memburies are made of this. Would've got my coat there and then for that remark if I wasn't on the coach.

The lady next to me is reading a book. I'm envious. If I tried it then the coach would resemble a scene from the exorcist with the carsick vomit that would spew from my mouth.She then starts eating. Which a) makes me hungry and b)reminds me that the first thing I'd need to do on arriving in London is to arrange for a payday loan to buy a sandwich.

Eventually we approach London. The traffic jams begin and the weather is so grey that the coach's lights are switched on.

All very neon

And to show how grey things were

London is very fast becoming Blade Runner Country

Eventually we get to Victoria coach station through the streets of Kensington and Chelsea. Some of which looked surprisingly shabby (though presumably expensively so). I would've taken a picture but my phone was running out of charge.

Got out. Wanted a sandwich but couldn't see anything. Bought a peanut Lion bar instead. Walked outside and eventually went into a shopping centre which sold all manor of things before revealing itself to be Victoria train station .

The underground journey was surprisingly easy. The two trains I needed to take came quickly, to the stops I needed and amazingly of all I had seats. From Victoria to Epping  started to read the Helene Hanff omnibus. Finished the first book, Underfoot In Show Business and now rereading 84 Charing Cross Road. Thankfully it's still as good as I remembered it to be the first time

(A quick digression. When I was a London Underground commuter if a train stopped a relevant station we were advised to "Mind the gap". Now the voice says "Mind the gap between the train and the station". What other gap could it be?)

My mother picked me up at Epping station. Wish I could say I did constructive things that evening but was nodding off most of the time. 

Besides my feet felt sore.

Until the next time.

In Which I Discover A Fellow Reader

Hello there. Hope you're feeling well today.

Friday then. I was off. My wife was off and of course as it was the summer holidays my daughter was off. Unfortunately the weather was off as well.

10:45am Friday

Quarter to eleven on a Friday morning in August and it's so dark cars are travelling with headlights on. Nowhere really to go out today. Might as well go and get my hair cut (note the word cut you understand. I'm too old to have my hair styled).

Though a five minute walk away the weather meant that I had to take the car to the van. Yes I said van, albeit a converted one, capable of two people being attended to at once with a waiting area of available periodicals and a newspaper. Of course when I say newspaper it's The Sun, so that's a debate.Decided therefore to bring one of the books I'm reading with me. Was ready to claim to be the first man (not person should stress) to read an Olivia Manning novel in a barbers whilst waiting to dealt with.

This claim to fame would however pass me by. Walked in just in time to take a free space. Placed the Manning tome on the ledge in front of me with my specs and explained in full technical detail what I wanted. Which was, essentially a trim.

The person cutting my hair is a pleasant slim lady of I guess mid twenties. The few facts I know about her is that she's never been to Maesteg (a half hour's drive away) and that her partner is an ideal man for many women given that he is a chef that doesn't like sport.

She notices the Manning and we start chatting about reading.Figured my hair was not being cut by a mushy romantic or chick lit type, Still didn't expect the response when I asked what her current book was.

Because it was a biography of East End early sixties gangsters Ronnie and Reggie Kray.

Did not must admit ask why she had picked that book to read stunned as I was by that choice. Being from the East End though not when they were at their most notorious knew of their reputation as it had been embedded in the culture.

She continued to explain that the Krays had lowered in her estimation because they had tried to escape from going on national service. Being murderous gangsters was nothing it seemed to not fighting for your country.

And another book was been read by my hairdresser. A novel about saving children from the Nazis in the second World War.Reading more than one book than at the same time. A lady after my own heart.

But let's go back to The Krays. I said that barbers/hairdressers/hair stylists call them what you will could make good assassins. After all they cut parts off a person's body without care or emotion and of course they are used to handling sharp instruments.

I also thought afterwards. That you could form a squad of hairdressing hit people if needed,flying all around the country to deal with assignments. You could name this squad after the most famous barberian and call it The Sweeney.

What I did mention to her is that as an assassin she could work undercover until called upon to deal with a problem in say Newport. The response suggested that she was impressed with the place. I don't know Newport that well. The last time I went was for a Newport County game so there wasn't a lot of the town I knew of.

Still the area I saw was in decline. Indeed she agreed with me that if some of the buildings could cry they would be in floods of tears by now because you see there were better times in the past. This is a picture I took then as an example.

A Crying Shame

But of course any conversation where I live about declining areas would lead us to Bridgend Town. She told me a couple I did not know. Firstly an Italian restaurant had closed down. Secondly there is apparently a book about not to regenerate a town and Bridgend is used as the example. Whether a Penguin or not that's a book I'd like to read.

I left feeling happy. That's what meeting a fellow reader does to you.

Until the next time.