Skip to main content

Unwelcome lighting up time resumes


Autumn: The season of mists, mellow fruitfulness, and idiots using their car’s lights inappropriately again.

Pretty much as soon as the cold weather descended, and the evenings started to draw in alarmingly fast, we had the delight that is drivers on our roads with a selfish streak, or possibly just a complete lack of brains.

On a splendid run along the A591 on Monday (you remember Monday – it was the one with all the wind and rain) before daylight had bothered to show up, I found myself squinting blearily at the dazzling lights ahead of me.

Had I taken a wrong turning in my pre-cappuccino befuddlement, and arrived on the front at Blackpool at lighting up time? Had the sun gone into supernova, leaving me with just minutes before the end of the universe (and ready access to a cappuccino)? Can I please just have a cappuccino?

No. Despite the fact that the sky was depositing an inch of rain in the space of a couple of hours (so that’s where it all went!), the person in front of me had their fog lights on. I can only assume they thought the extra light bouncing off all the raindrops and spray would help them see ahead a tiny bit better. Hell, maybe it even did.

Regrettably, for anyone who had the misfortune to be following them, the effect of their dazzling rear fog lights through the rain and spray was surprisingly similar to pressing your face against a set of traffic lights just as they turn red. Don’t ask me how I know that.

So bright was the red light reflecting everywhere, it was impossible to tell how far the car was ahead, which lane it was in, or if I was actually mistakenly approaching the lighting rig of a Pink Floyd gig circa 1987.

Back in the mists of time, before I had the pleasure of writing this newspaper column, I was but a humble blogger. In January of 2012, I beseeched my numerous followers (three, I think it was) to turn their fog lights off when it wasn’t foggy.

I realise now that a crime of that magnitude (whilst heinous, and rightfully deserving of harsh penalties) is but the equivalent a of pinching a single chocolate from the pick and mix, whilst switching them on in the dark in a downpour is akin to attempting to stuff every Creme Egg ever made into your mouth at the same time. Don’t ask me how I know that, either.

Are some people really that selfish and inconsiderate? Is it even conceivable that people who were capable of passing a complicated driving test might never have noticed how much a bright light refracts through rain?

On the plus side, any lost aircraft will be able spot a bit of tarmac to land on easily – it’ll be the road full of half blinded, coffee-deprived, newspaper columnists with a marked squint and angry facial expression, getting Monday off to a really bad start.

This post first appeared as my "Thank grumpy it's Friday" column, in the North West Evening Mail, on the 10th of October 2014, where it was retitled as "Rear fog lights far too dazzling", which is pretty literal, isn't it? The column went straight into the archive on the paper's website, without a credit, but if you fancy a look, you can find it here. On the plus side - no scary picture of me.

Apologies for the lateness of posting this - it's been a hectic couple of evenings in front of the computer, for reasons I can't currently reveal. There - I've dropped an element of suspense in. Clever, huh?

(Tonight's tunes, fresh through the letterbox and into the CD player, are by The Beatles, from "On Air - Live at the BBC Volume 2". I'm so cool, my bangin' tunes is only 50+ year old, man. Innit? Respeck.)

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Faking it for real

As Donald “I’m really great, everybody says so” Trump is so fond of pointing out, there is a lot of fake news around nowadays. Honest. Your friends at Facebook think so too, and have recently been publishing their top tips for spotting false news – by placing them as ads in newspapers. Considering they came in for considerable criticism themselves, that’s like shouting “Squirrel!” and pointing at a tree whilst you hastily kick away the prize begonias you just trampled. To help you make sense of this (and because I’m a caring person), I thought I’d run you through their suggestions and help to explain them for you. I know. I’m lovely. 1. Be sceptical of headlines READING THIS ARTICLE WILL IMPROVE YOUR SEX LIFE!!! And explain that catchy headlines, or stuff all in capitals might be a bit iffy. 2. Look closely at the URL You can find out more about this at www.wowyouregullible.com if you want to understand how phony web addresses are a sure sign of dodgyness. 3. Investigate...

Going Underground

The US presidential election and Brexit must have made me more nervous than I’d realised. It seems I’ve created an underground bunker without realising I was doing it. Still – we’ve all done that at some point, right? No? Ah... In that case, the fact that I have inadvertently turned my cellar into a rudimentary survival shelter, just in case it all kicks off, demonstrates a severe case of bunker mentality. Fretting about Donald and his wall, and Hillary and her emails, clearly made me more paranoid that I thought about the possibility of WW3 kicking off. Whilst attempting to find a specific size of imperial washer the other day (turns out I’d mis-filed it in the nut cabinet – Tsk!) I was struck by what a lot of jam and chutney we have in the cellar. And I do mean a LOT. There are boxes of boiled-up sugar and fruit and more boxes of boiled up vinegar and fruit. We’re still only part way through 2015’s output too. Then there’s the plastic containers holding pasta in various for...

"It's all gone quiet..." said Roobarb

If, like me, you grew up (and I’m aware of the irony in that) in the ‘70s, February was a tough month, with the sad news that Richard Briers and Bob Godfrey had died. Briers had a distinguished acting career and is, quite rightly, fondly remembered most for his character in ‘The Good Life’. Amongst his many roles, both serious and comedic, he also lent his voice to a startling bit of animation that burst it’s wobbly way on to our wooden-box-surrounded screens in 1974. The 1970s seemed to be largely hued in varying shades of beige, with hints of mustard yellow and burnt orange, and colour TV was a relatively new experience still, so the animated adventures of a daft dog and caustic cat who were the shades of dayglo green and pink normally reserved for highlighter pens, must have been a bit of a shock to the eyes at the time. It caused mine to open very wide indeed. Roobarb was written by Grange Calveley, and brought vividly into life by Godfrey, whose strange, shaky-looking sty...