Newsletter April 2002

From Portsmouth we headed north and eventually arrived at a small campsite attached to a Covert War/Aviation Museum, in Northamptonshire, said to be the founding home of the CIA!  Living out in the middle of beyond, next to Covert War Museum we are seeing yet another side to life.  The campsite owners, Vera and Bernard, hold a number of rallies throughout the summer which has brought some very strange characters into close proximity.  

Strange Neighbours.

There are a few permanent caravans around us, in one of which lives an Irish guy who drives ‘The Tortoise.’  ‘The Tortoise’ is a Ford Escort incognito, with extension plates welded all over the exterior to give the effect of a ‘shell’ which have then been painted for extra effect.  Alan told him that our intended motorhome will be called ‘The Crow’ to which he asked us, ‘What pills are you taking?’  I looked at him, then looked at his car, then said, ‘Obviously not the same ones you are taking!’  He spends his weekends spraying and touching up ‘The Tortoise.’  ‘The Tortoise’ puts a smile on people’s faces.  Apparently one policeman has told ‘The Tortoise’ that his extension plates are illegal and seems to be on a crusade to force ‘The Tortoise’ off the road.   ‘The Tortoise’ has been taken to the MoT testing station, and has been passed as kosher for British roads.  Other policemen don’t seem to have a problem with ‘The Tortoise,’ it’s just this one.    There’s always one, isn’t there?  The owner of ‘The Tortoise’ is now indulging in another project.  A Ford Escort van!  But he’s not telling us what the van is going to be.   I suppose that we shall have to try and guess, as each week it becomes transformed!  

Funny Goings-on.

One weekend, the Camping and Caravanning Club had a meet in the next field, at the same time as ‘The Pioneers’ had their Easter meet in an adjoining field.  ‘The Pioneers’ are a small group of people who in their spare time live as the first European North American settlers lived, with their canvas tents, billycans, axes, and campfires.  To look at them you would think ‘Little House On The Prairie.’ One character ‘Gypo Jim’ came with his menagerie, 3 ferrets, a dwarf Amazonian parrot and a dog.  His ‘tent’ is really a horsebox disguised as a log cabin, on which he hangs an array of basic metal outdoor 18thC cooking implements.  Pride of place at the front of his tent stands his totem pole, decorated with bones, feathers and furs, all presented to him by one friend or other.  ‘Each one tells a story.’   He told us.   It all looked quite a sight with, The Camping and Caravanning Club with their shiny new caravans, wearing their fancy outdoor clothing from Millets, sitting on their plastic camping chairs and tables, with their noses in the air, not talking to each other. And a few feet away ‘The Pioneers’ with their rustic wooden furniture, bones, feathers, Billy cans and animal skins laughing and making welcome anyone who dared to go and say ‘Hello!’  They were great!  (Basil Fawlty, from Fawlty Towers, would have said, ‘We have both ends of the evolutionary scale this week.’)   Jim’s son came to visit bringing with him two beautiful birds of prey.  A Shaker and an Eagle Owl.  One other member of the Pioneers, Tug, showed us how to shoot a crossbow and a bow and arrow.   Jim showed us how to perfect the art of axe throwing. The Pioneers were such good fun to be with.  

It was nice to meet Jim and Co, but a couple of weeks after Jim and Co had left, we noticed what we thought were The Pioneers setting up camp again in the neighbouring field, with their canvas tents, billycans, totems and an array of cooking utensils, along with a few ferrets and a couple of lurchers.  So naturally we went over to say ‘Hello.’  Jim wasn’t to be seen, so asked,  ‘Are you the Pioneers?’   The reply was most indignant,  ‘Oh no we are not The Pioneers, we are The Colonials!’    It was all we could do to keep straight faces!  (We’re not The Judean People’s Front, we’re The People’s Front Of Judea!  “The Life of Brian”) Apparently, the split happened due to those who are now The Colonials not agreeing in part to Jim’s converted horsebox, because they explained ‘The original settlers didn’t live in converted horse boxes.’   At that moment, one of the women in The Colonial group, started speeding around the field exercising the lurchers, in a fully automatic electric wheelchair!  Q.  Did original settlers to America have electric wheelchairs?   I don’t think so!

Jim has another side to the story.  He tells us that the whole point of the group was to try and live, as the original European North American settlers lived.  But when they gave demonstrations at fetes and rallies to welcome the public to see how they lived, The Colonials didn’t like the idea of showing the public inside their tents, and used to close them up anyone came to see.  This we could believe, because The Colonials were not at all friendly and didn’t make us feel welcome.  Unlike The Pioneers who gave us a wonderful weekend.   Jim said that such behaviour was pointless.  As an after thought.  Is it any wonder that America went through a vicious civil war, when a small group of similar folk, of no more than 20 are unable to resolve their differences and end up splitting with bad feelings in the sleepy countryside of Northamptonshire?  But of course, where do you draw the line as to what the original settlers had and used?  To say that a converted horsebox is not in keeping with the times makes a mockery of everything else that they use.  (not to mention that futuristic electric wheelchair)   Jim told us that he has a horsebox because he lives on his own and has heart problems.  A horsebox is an easy option for him to handle.  Inside the horsebox is very basic, with a wooden shelf for the bed and one shelf for a few things.  The utensils that both The Pioneers and The Colonials use might look authentic, but they were forged with modern methods, using metals mined in modern ways.  They all drive to the camps in modern vehicles. And they all eat food bought from the supermarkets!

That Horrible Word, Work.

We are both in employment now working hard towards our next winter migration.  I work for a large travel company VDU-ing in the accountancy department.  I’ve never seen anything like it before.  The waste is disgusting.  This company alone must play a key role in supporting the hamster bedding industry!  Ream upon ream of top quality paper is shredded every day.  Alan said that the waste at his work is disgusting also.  Something has to be done about all the waste in this world.

Our New Project.

Some other great news!   We have at last bought our base vehicle for our A-Class motorhome.  We have an ex-council L reg Omni minibus, 22 seater, air suspension, air assisted brakes, 2.9 Perkins diesel which takes a whopping 18 litres per oil change. Gross maximum weight is 5 ton, which is perfect for our 120 litre water tank, a full sized cooker, extra gas bottles, Alan’s extensive tool box and all of our belongings. Being a commercial vehicle, weights and long hard journeys will not be a problem. We have made some preliminary floor plans and hope to make a start on the conversion some time in the next couple of weeks.  It’s all very exciting. We shall be calling our self-converted motorhome, ‘Bitsa’ because she will be made from bits of this and bits of that! We cannot and will not pay the inflated prices for the furnishings of Bitsa, so will be frequenting car-boots and skips.  We shall have it completed for when we are ready to head South again for the winter.  (October)

We saw our old Sherpa this weekend, the one we drove to Kathmandu.  It did look a sorry state, all neglected and ready for the scrapyard in the sky.  The new owner still has the country names painted down the side of the van and all the stickers from the trip, although they are becoming rather faded now.  He told us that so many people stop and ask him about the journey marked on the van, that he has resorted to carrying a copy of my article from MMM magazine to show them!  

Newsletter Oct/Nov 2002

‘Bitsa’ built and loaded up for our winter migration, we headed south in search of that big warm yellow thing in the sky!

The Ferry Crossing.

We left England on the Norfolk Line ferry, it seems just in the nick of time as a vicious storm approached the South of England.  I was looking forward to a big breakfast on the ferry, but as we were in the queue waiting to be served, the captain gave the following warning.  ‘Good morning ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking. Gale force winds are now picking up speed through the English Channel, so expect a little pitching and rolling, but I shall try to keep it to a minimum.  In the event of an emergency, you will hear the alarm.  Please proceed calmly to the exits where you will be given a life jacket….’  I thought back to the news headlines of the day before.  A ferry had crashed into the harbour walls!  We had missed that too!  I stood in the breakfast queue in a daze, as our ferry rocked and swayed into the English Channel.  I suddenly didn’t want a full breakfast, knowing it would probably be thrown overboard, so ordered toast.  Alan had a huge breakfast and sat in front of me enjoying every morsel. I couldn’t even manage my slice of toast and feeling very green around the gills, I rushed out on to the deck.  The wind was that strong I could barely breath, and with a liberal dose of horizontal rain I got rather wet!  If I was to vomit my toast, it would have been thrown right back in my face, so swallowed hard.  I came back inside and sat on the floor beside the deck door, incase I needed to make a hasty exit. One young boy of about 10 years old, looked how I felt, but then he had eaten a full breakfast before we had left the harbour.  It was something he now greatly regretted as he walked, with purpose along the corridor looking for the Gents.  Sadly for him the Gents didn’t materialize, but his undigested breakfast of bacon, sausage, eggs and beans did, right into his swiftly cupped hands.  With his regurgitated breakfast dribbling through his fingers, he continued to search for the Gents.  ‘It does get better, you know.’  Came a voice standing beside me. I looked up to see a very classically dressed, middle-aged English woman.  ‘I used to be like you, but it does get better.’  She assured me.  ‘Really.’  I answered unconvincingly.  I spent the remaining hour and a half of the crossing sitting on the floor next to the outside deck door.  All credit to the captain, for getting the ferry an its occupants to France safely.

The Storm.

The following morning the storm through the English Channel was in full swing, battering the coast of France. We were camped on an Aires right beside the ferry port in Calais and ventured out for a little walk along the quayside.  We met an old woman walking a tiny Pomeranian dog.  I watched as its spindly matchstick legs whizzed back and forth beneath a pompom of fluff, out of which poked a cute foxy face.  I bent down to fuss it and the woman told me in French that he weighed only 1kg and was always looking for other dogs.  Alan told her to be careful with the strong winds….that the dog might blow away!  We all laughed, I guess sharing the same vision.  Of a gust of wind sweeping the pompom off its feet, and holding it vertically waiving about at the end of the lead.  The French are very friendly people.  We haven’t met a horrible one yet.  We don’t know why the English believe that the French hate us!  It’s just not true. (they probably feel sorry for us that we can’t stand up to our pathetic government)

Into Southern france.

Along the coastal road South of Bordeux is a vast tract of pine forest called Les Landes, which is over 14,000 sq klms.  Low timber framed houses are characteristic of the area and the forests are farmed for timber and resin.  We then made it to one of our favourite spots, Capbreton, where we decided to chill out for a couple of days.  Capbreton is on the South West cost of France and offers one of the best surfing beaches in Europe.  The area is quiet and unspoilt with a long stretch of deserted beach.  The temperature was 25ºC, we changed into shorts and t-shirts and started to top up our suntans.  

More Money Than Sense.

Parked next to us were 3 British registered vehicles.  The first, a top of the range all singing all dancing Mercedes camper that Rob & Jan had bought new from Italy, being a third of the price cheaper than UK.   It seemed that they had spent as much again on every conceivable extra; 200W of solar power, 4 large leisure batteries, a built in petrol generator, a diesel powered central heater, microwave, satellite and all manner of alarms, and a private number plate. Yet to look at them they were barely 30 something! The real stunner came when they realized who we were and told us that my article in MMM (Motorcaravan Motorhome Monthly) about our overland independent trip to Kathmandu was the real inspiration for their trip! ‘That article did it for me.’ Rob told us. I was gobsmacked to learn that we had inspired anybody to go out and spend what must have amounted to £60,000 + to do a similarly arduous overland trip. (We had only spent £1,000 on our vehicle and spare parts for our overland trip UK to Kathmandu and back.)  They had more money than sense. They went on to tell us that their route over 5 years Europe, Morocco, the Artic Circle, Russia and some of Eastern Europe, Turkey, then ship the motorhome to Canada, onto America, Mexico, then ship to South America, then ship to New Zealand and Australia!   We wished them luck.  

Are we jealous? No, we are not.  We really wouldn’t want the worry of such an expensive vehicle, not only being attractive to thieves, but breaking down. Although Alan is an excellent mechanic, such modern vehicles need very expensive computers to find faults and put them right.  At least with our ‘Bista’ fault-finding is simple and there are no black boxes to complicate matters.  Thieves would also look at us and think that we hadn’t got anything worth stealing.  That suits us.

On a Shoestring.

Another couple, Roxanne from Canada & John an Australian, were traveling in our spirit.  They had a small old Nissan van with ‘Corgi Registered Gas fitter’ emblazoned all over it.  The back, in which you couldn’t stand up, they had built a platform which took up most of the floor, for the bed, under which were a few drawers.  They had no toilet, no cooker, and no washing facilities yet they seemed the happiest of the three couples.   A couple of years previously they had driven from Canada to Mexico in another old van and loved every minute.  They told us that they came to England and didn’t even last 3 days.  They didn’t like the atmosphere.  All the rushing around and over crowding made them depressed, so they bought the gas fitters van and headed for the ferry port and France.  They were heading for Morocco.  

Halloween.  

It’s a national holiday in France!  Walking into Capbreton we saw hordes of children dressed up as pumpkins, Draculas, witches, ghosts, complete with faces painted.  They looked a picture.  They then moved down the street visiting every shop playing “Trick or Treat” to which the shop owners responded by giving them sweets.  Each child ended up with a carrier bag full of sweets.  The shops then shut early and for the following day.  It made me wonder what has happened to the British national holidays, that they are slowly being eroded in the race for more profits, bigger and better.

Into Spain. 

We drove into Spain via the top left hand corner, down to Pampalona, Zaragoza, Valencia and on to Benidorm.  We made it in two days, wild camping included.  If you listen to the leading UK motorhome magazines, you will be led to believe that Spain is a dangerous place for free camping. That you will get broken into unless you stay on a campsite.  This on the whole, is nonsense.  You are no more likely to get broken into in Spain, than in parts of UK.  When free camping and travelling around any country, all that is needed is a little common sense to keep your self out of trouble and a little respect for the locals and their wishes.

  

Newsletter December 2002

Around the Coast of Spain.

Having spent a couple of weeks at El Raco Camping, Benidorm and it was time to move on.  We headed down the East coast of Spain to Albir, where we met a German with a rather large, bull nosed Mercedes 911 4X4 ex-military truck. It all seemed rather cumbersome for the tarmac roads of Spain, but he had taken the truck to some unusual places.  Saudi Arabia, Cyprus, Jordan, Syria and Morocco.  When I discovered that he was a retired commercial airline pilot, I nick named him ‘Jumbo.’  Jumbo spoke very good English and told us that he was on his way to Morocco, for the 7^th time!  As we sat talking about our similar travels, Alan fished in the Mediterranean Sea. His bait an old chicken carcass, was placed on the rock behind him.  As I sat talking to Jumbo, I noticed out of the corner of my eye, Alan’s bait starting to edge its way over the rocks! I looked closer and saw a possy of the tiniest mice I’ve seen, trying with all their might to drag the bits of chicken away. Jumbo thought it hilarious.

In Campello, we parked up on the beach alongside the fishing port, beside many other motorhomes, Dutch, German and French.  It was a lovely spot with and interesting fish market every evening, selling squid, moray eels, crabs and nice looking fish.

Our next stop over heading South along the mountainous coast line of Andalusia was Mojacar, named from the ancient hill village which lies a couple of kilometres back from the sea.  Mojacar must be one of the least spoilt pieces of coast line in Spain which in the 1960’s was virtually a ghost town. However, Mojacar’s fortunes were turned around when a very nice mayor offered free land to anyone willing to build within a year! The bid attracted a lot of artists, but now Mojacar is a popular package destination with a difference.  It has kept its quaint original Spanish looks, without a high rise hotel or tat shop in sight.   We headed for one of the beaches and bumped into Mr Know-it-all, who lived in a large American camper.  What Mr Know-it-all didn’t know, wasn’t worth knowing and launched straight into his ‘know-it-all routine. ‘Garages won’t allow you to use their water for your tanks and if you are caught working here, the Spanish police will fine you £2,000, confiscate your vehicle and send you home.  In Morocco they keep you waiting 2 hours at the customs and if you don’t have motor insurance they refuse to let you in. You have to bribe them!’  And so he prattled on, launching into some elaborate scheme about how to bribe the customs official, waffling on about leaving a conspicuous packet of cigarettes on the table with, (and this is most important) one sticking out of the packet!  We had no intention of bribing anyone and we tried to tell him that we could handle ourselves, that we had driven through Asia and back without the need for any skullduggery. But our knowledge was falling on deaf ears.  As he waffled on I noticed in the distance behind him a Dutchman taking his cat for a walk on the beach.  On reaching a chosen spot the cat urgently dug a hole, pooped and scooped the sand from all directions in order to meticulously cover his dirty deed.  Cats are very funny when they do this and I started giggling, only to be met with a very icy stare from Mr Know-it-all. ‘ The Gendarmes often do vehicle stop checks in this area looking for Al Khaida terrorists!’  He’d lost the plot and it was time to find another beach. 

Just outside Mojacar we found a very large beach with 30 motorhomes parked up.  Bitsa made it 31!  We saw yet another beautiful sunset and even saw Venus shining bright in the morning sky.  Living away from the rat-race you certainly get more attuned with nature.  If only we realized just how much we depend on nature in order to exist, we just might change the world for the better.

The Breakdown.

From Mojacar we drove towards Almeria, up some steep hills through a natural park.  Half way up a rather steep hill in second gear doing only 25mph, there was a loud expensive sounding metal pop from the rear left of Bitsa and she ground to a halt!  I thought it was a puncture, but on closer inspection Alan noticed that the rear stub axle had sheered in two with the wheel only being held in place by the brake shoes inside the drum.  Bitsa could NOT be towed, but would have to be lifted onto a recovery truck.  We didn’t have any breakdown cover and we were in the middle of nowhere. Even though both warning triangles were in the road, many Spanish cars passed us including 9 other foreign motorhomes, but not one of them stopped to see if we needed any help.  Finally an Englishman in a Spanish plated Audi stopped.  He took Alan back some 6 miles to the nearest town and telephoned for a crane to rescue us.  

Eventually a 7½ ton extending flatbed recovery truck arrived.  With no common language between us and the driver, we were reduced to frantic hand signals and pointing.  I don’t know about having the same currency throughout Europe, the same language would be of far more use!  Bista could not be towed, so she was winched onto the flatbed that was barely wide enough. One back wheel ended up being half on and half off the flatbed and caused a few raised heartbeats.  If the wheel was to become dislodged we were in deep trouble. Alan put his jack handle through the center of the wheel and stub axle, hoping that if it did move, the jack handle would at least hold the wheel upright and the chassis off the ground. The recovery truck had sunk to one side under the unevenly distributed weight of 5 ton fully loaded Bitsa. No ties were used only the winch was left attached to the back trailing arm suspension. Alan said that it was only the truck’s air suspension that enabled it to carry Bitsa.

We gingerly crawled down the hill with Bitsa precariously perched on the back and were taken to the first filling station.  The driver, obviously not happy doing this job wanted us off ASAP, before we fell off!  On putting us down the rear wheel gave way, but was saved buy Alan’s jack handle trick. Bitsa could not be moved another inch, so the truck had to be moved forward to get Bitsa’s front wheels off the flatbed.  We were all most relieved to see Bista back on terra firma. The recovery cost a whopping €250 The part + VAT + carriage cost us £300 Our emergency money gone.  Sadly, we will not be going to Morocco.  We are very disappointed, but it is not meant to be.  Maybe next year.  We were extremely lucky that the axle didn’t snap into two whilst driving at 55 mph on a bend on a motorway. 

The part is due to arrive any time now.  We have arranged for it to be delivered to a hotel very close by. The receptionist Maria was extremely helpful.  (Thank you Maria.) She let us fax the UK for parts without charge!  We were told that the part would be with us within 3 to 4 days.  All we can do now is wait, in the middle of nowhere on a garage forecourt.  Thank goodness that my food cupboards are fully stocked, with tinned and dried foods for just such an emergency.  We do have water from the garage, though they couldn’t seem to care less about us.

Eight days later!

Still no part!  We faxed the sender, asking what has happened, but he doesn’t seem very interested.  He tells us that it has been sent and that’s all he knows.  We wait.  It’s all becoming very frustrating as no one seems to know where our part is and no one wants to be bothered to find out!  Whilst we were waiting, a man in a Turkish plated car came up to us and begged poverty.  Apparently he was taking his family from Turkey to England and had run out of money, and got lost it had seemed, as he had driven at least 2,000 miles south out of his way, but that didn’t seem to matter!  All he wanted was £20 to reach England.  We told him that all we wanted was a stub axle to reach England but he wasn’t interested.

Be Wary of Digital Deception - David Icke Website

Be Wary of Digital Deception - David Icke Website

Dangerous Dogs or Dangerous Owners?

The government’s knee-jerk reaction to dangerous dogs.

The government are presently thinking about reforming the Dangerous Dog Act 1991 which clearly prohibits the ownership of certain types of dog.  This is based not on particular breeds, but “types” of dog deemed to be of dangerous heritage.  It also makes it a criminal offense to allow ANY breed of dog to be out of control in a public place, or a place where it is not allowed.  This includes causing fear or apprehension to a person, that it may injure them.  But some people believe that by creating a dangerous breed list, it has made such dogs even more desirable.  NHS statistics claim that the number of people being treated for dog bites has risen 40% in the last four years.  

So why are these dogs being so aggressive?  Is it the “breed” or “type?”  Or is the owners?  Having been raised with dogs my parents had boarding kennels, competitive dog training club, security kennels, and we also bred large breeds of dog, Irish Wolfhounds and Rottweilers, I have to say, it is 99.9% the owners fault.  I have also spent some of my working life as a security dog trainer and a city Dog Warden, where the dogs were the easy part.  It was the owners that came with them that were the problem, with a string of excuses for their dogs bad behaviour or frequent escapes and their claims that their dogs had "rights" over and above those of people.  The irresponsible owners always blamed their dogs, never themselves.

Excluding those who have some physical issues, such as a brain tumor or are the result of inbreeding, dogs will only exhibit “bad manners” or “naughty” behaviour if we let them do so unchallenged!  It’s as simple as that.  It is our complete lack of leadership skills that allow a dog’s bad/unsocial behaviour to continue.  Dogs are animals, and should be treated as such.  They need boundaries and rules, as would be perfectly normal in a pack in the wild, in which to live a happy, contented life.  Dogs are not people and many aggressive dogs are created from a life of misguided love and affection and not as most people would believe a life of bad treatment.   For example a fluffy puppy growling aggressively when you approach his favourite toy should be treated as an out-right challenge to your leadership and should be corrected there and then, but irresponsible owners see it as funny and cute, totally disregarding that it increases the puppy’s status and dominance in the household and by default encourages aggression.  The irresponsible owner sees they have done nothing wrong.  One of the outcomes of this is that dogs’ homes are full to capacity and are having to destroy many more dogs than normal.  BBC Panorama states that a large percentage of the dogs destroyed are Staffordshire Bull Terrier types.  Battersea Dog’s Home destroyed almost 3,000 dogs in 2009.  My parents’ kennels had the contract for stray dogs back in the 1970s on the Bedfordshire/Northamptonshire border and had to destroy over 360 dogs a year even though they only covered a radius of 30 miles.  They re-homed all they could, but 360 dogs one year becomes 720 the second year.  They had to be realistic then just as we have to be realistic today.   

The government’s plan to introduce more ways of simply taxing dog ownership, licenses, micro-chips, completing a list of details, compulsory vets bills and third party insurance costs, will simply not work.  It does nothing to promote responsible dog ownership, instead adding to the government income.   Only the responsible dog owners will comply.  

Interestingly, the rise in dog attacks seems to have increased with the rise in “animal lovers” criticizing owners who handle and correct their dogs firmly.  Perhaps if a lot more owners had been firmer with their dogs, there wouldn’t be so many tragic attacks and unwanted unruly dogs.  

Perhaps we should look at Germany, where (in addition to license fees, muzzling, micro-chipping, neutering) you are not allowed to own a dog that is considered potentially dangerous without having passed a special aptitude test that if passed only lasts 5 years and only relates to the dog that is tested with the owner.  You are also not allowed to own one of the listed breeds (similar but longer list than ours) if you have been convicted of committing a crime whilst under the influence of alcohol, or have an addiction to drugs or have a mental illness or impairment. There are a list of dangerous dogs in Germany that must be muzzled at all times in public unless they have passed a special test to prove they are obedient and harmless.  On top of this the penalties are very harsh for the owner if the dog causes injury to someone.  The owner is accountable.

The German way seems a much more effective way of handling the issue of breeds that are potentially dangerous in the wrong hands.  It is centered around the real “cause” (irresponsible owners) of the serious problem and not the result of it (innocent casualties and unwanted aggressive dogs).  This surely makes far more sense and encourages owners to take more responsibility for their actions.

Cindy Thompson

Speed Cameras, a Sinister Twist.

Speed cameras, a sinister twist?

In the early nineties, the British public faced the speed camera, introduced [we were told] to cut the 3,000 deaths on Britain’s roads.  Initially the fixed penalties rolled in, showing speed cameras to appear a very efficient way of policing motorists.  Ten years since the advent of robotic traffic policing, the number of actual traffic police has decreased from 8,900 to 6,500.   Speed cameras however, can only catch legal speeding motorists, and cannot catch motorists who use false plates, have no insurance, steal cars, or drive under the influence of drink or drugs, who amount to 1 million, and are 9 times more likely than legal motorists to be involved in an accident. 

Between 1994 and 2003 of the Safety Camera Partnership Scheme, introduced to significantly lower the number of road deaths each year, over 3,000 people were still getting killed on Britain’s roads even though motorists had significantly slowed down.  

Then something strange happened.  The cameras started to proliferate and were found in areas that had never had an accident, contravening guidelines that a camera be placed in a location which had had at least 4 fatal/serious accidents in the previous 3 calendar years.  As the number of motorists caught for speeding dramatically rose, so did the revenue obtained from them.   In 2002 5,000 cameras netted £7M in prosecutions.  Yet figures from The Department of Transport show that less than 4% of accidents are caused by exceeding the speed limit.  Safespeed find that in 2001 figures taken from 13 police forces show “inattention” to be the greatest cause of accidents at 25.8%.

Paradoxically, the proliferation of cameras could actually be a factor in road accidents, if you note the “inattention figures” above.  No motorist wishes to obtain a speeding fine or points on their licence, so often reacts erratically near a speed camera, by slamming on the breaks, or driving too slowly, or simply focusing all attention on the speedometer and not on the road.   With the alarming propagation of road signs, sheer number of cars on the roads, and advertising signs, driving on Britain’s roads is a serious assault on anyone’s senses.  Helping us poor motorists, the world car industries have designed ever faster, more responsive and powerful cars as standard, coupled by TV car programmes testing these models with emphasis on speed, handling and acceleration.

Drivers are now guilty of a robotically generated crime, the introduction of which has no basis of truth, with the punishment based on what “could have been,” and not on the actual outcome.  

Children should also have a responsibility of awareness in road safety. Back in the 60’s and 70’s children were taught the Green Cross Code, the safe way to cross the road, both at school and between children’s prime time TV.   No such adverts seem to be between modern day programmes.

We have all slowed down, yet the number of road deaths has stayed at over 3,000 per year.  Speed cameras therefore have had no effect at all, on the very thing [we were told] they were introduced to change.  But were they really introduced purely as a revenue collector?  Cameras will soon be widespread that are capable of logging your every mile, with calculation of mean-speeds on any given journey, times and dates, which will be linked to DVLA, government data bases, and insurance companies.  A blatant erosion of our civil liberties.  

“If you have done nothing wrong, you have nothing to worry about” comes to mind, but the trouble with that is, insidiously, ever more decisions are being taken away from us to a point that we may well [in law] not be allowed to think at all for ourselves.    You may not have to have done anything wrong, to kick the wheels of Big Brother and the Thought Police into action against you, telling you that with a negligible probability your actions could be dangerous/fatal so you must be pre-emptively guilty and punished accordingly.  

Many laws outlaw common sense, simple decision making, truth, and concept of the individual, and the repercussions of such laws are something we should be seriously concerned about.  

Speeding is just one of those laws.

Cindy Thompson

It's Just a Piece of Cloth.

It’s Just A Piece Of Cloth.

Pressure is mounting for the government to follow our European neighbours in the ban against veils in Britain, but what issues must the proposed ban address?  

On the side of the veil wearer they will have us believe that the challenge is to exercise their religious duties, even though it is NOT a religious requirement, but one of tradition, leaving the wearer free to choose.  We believe here in the UK that we have the right and freedom to wear what we please, yet do we?  What of the man in London who wore a t-shirt that said “B******s to Blair” who was asked by a policeman to take it off and turn it inside out or else face a fine and/or prosecution?  What of motorcyclists who walk into a bank or shopping centres with their crash helmets on, or “hoodies” who wish to visit a shopping centre?  What of their freedoms?  In an age where we are obsessed with identification, as an English woman I would not be allowed to hide my identification by swathing myself in fabric and coming up with the excuse that it was based on some religion or other.  Realistically, the practicalities are obvious, and other countries such as Afghanistan who have gone to the extremes of imposing the complete covering of women, have enforced appalling degradation on over half the population.  The more serious side to the identification issue, is the fact that such ridiculous attire in the 21^st C is open to abuse, the proof of which would be impossible to challenge.  

Having travelled independently to Iran a country that enforces the modest covering of all women, Moslem or otherwise, I have experienced the issue from another perspective.  During my 6 weeks in Iran I had to wear a head scarf, a loose long coat and ensure that my arms and legs were covered regardless of the temperatures outside.  Had I not observed these laws, I would have been arrested and punished.  One day a man started speaking to my husband and I whilst we were visiting a mosque in Esfahan.  ‘What do you think of Iran?’ he asked me.  I told him that I found the people extremely friendly and helpful and that we were enjoying our drive across Iran, but I didn’t like having to wear the head scarf.  ‘But why?’ He quizzed.  ‘It’s just a piece of cloth.’  Then my husband asked him, ‘OK, if you and your wife were to visit the UK and found that your wife had to remove her veil for the visit because that was OUR law, what would you do?’ The man was horrified. ‘This can’t be, my wife must be covered.’  ……’But it’s just a piece of cloth.’ We told him.

Even in other Moslem majority countries who would be considered to ‘understand’ such issues, such as Egypt, total covering is not encouraged or in some situations tolerated.  I was extending my visa one day in Cairo at the huge government building that processed passports for Egyptian citizens.  I was studying for the second year of my Arabic degree.  As I sat at the desk of the official who was to stamp my passport, a gofer entered the room with a passport application of a completely veiled woman.  The official took one look at the photograph of the piece of cloth with two eyes peeping out from a slit opening and threw it back on the desk towards the gofer.  ‘What is this?’ He shouted in Arabic.  ‘She must show her face.  Take it back and tell her if she wants her passport she must show her face.’  He added, ‘You are wasting my time, now go.’  I can only assume that for her passport application to be processed, she had remove the veil covering her face, though for the woman this would have been little different to uncovering in public, given that forbidden men would be free to see her face.  

As for other women in the UK who wish to keep their faces completely covered, when in Iran I had to follow Iranian laws, so they should be able to accept our rules and regulations with the same dignity, after all it’s just a piece of cloth and England is not ruled by Islam, ……..yet!  

And neither do we want it to be. 

Cindy Thompson   

A Rubbish Problem.

A rubbish problem.

There has been much talk lately about recycling and wheely bins, with folk complaining and not relishing the hike in waste disposal charges.  Waste disposal is a huge problem facing our future planet, and we all have a responsibility to help the changes, though most of us seem to think it is not our problem, but that of the council’s, or the government, or that of any one else’s other than their own.  

Yes, we have to recycle, and yes, we must take more care about our rubbish, but there is another part in the equation that no one seems to have mentioned.  Why don’t we stop making and importing so much rubbish and tac in the first place, then we wouldn’t have so much to dispose of.  The world seems to be on a roller coaster making huge amounts of utter rubbish, using huge amounts of resources, then taking up vast amounts of space to get rid of the stuff.  

For example supermarkets could do their bit and stop buying fruit and vegetables that are unnecessarily swathed in plastic.  Why does an aubergine have to be in a plastic tray, both of which are in a plastic bag?  Perhaps us the customer should start unwrapping these items and leave the packaging in the supermarket for them to dispose of it.  After all they chose to buy it.  In our greed to have out of season fruit and vegetables we knowingly increase the amount of rubbish produced.

We only have to walk down any high street in any town in the UK and see amount of rubbish on sale.  We should stop buying all this unnecessary rubbish, much of which is useless and ends up in the bin, so we are not only paying over the odds to buy this rubbish, we are also going to have to pay to get rid of it!  Where is the logic in that?  We should start thinking about what we buy, why and of what use it served apart from decrease our bank balance.

A far better way of approaching the rubbish problem to cut down on the amount of rubbish created in the first place and to stop it being produced, not moaning about it once it has been produced at a profit and sold to everyone and even bigger profits.

Cindy Thompson

War On Drugs Isn't Working.

The War On Drugs Isn’t Working!

Many politicians have been waging ‘war’ on drugs for years, making policies that don’t work, and doing little to help those who are addicts.  

We all know how the drug chain works.  Drugs are grown in Third World countries, often with aid money from the West, they are then sold on by drug cartels, who ship the consignments to drug dealers who sell them on our streets.  Drug addicts however, contribute greatly to the crime rate in our country causing untold misery and mayhem.  The solution, I believe is quite simple.  Give the addicts their fix.

Put into context the costs are as follows;

Cost of a fix for an addict at present. 

1) Police time and staff, documenting the robbery, catching or attempting to catch the offender.

2) Forensic scientist, who search for evidence that will help convict the offender.

3) Glazier, if a window has been broken.

4) Locksmith, if a lock has been damaged.

5) Counselling, if the robbery has been a traumatic or violent experience.

6) Insurance, whilst an insurance company might pay over and above the premium paid on the policy, they are a business and as such make a profit from all their clients who don’t get robbed.

7) Businesses who sell goods to replace the stolen items, also make money on this deal.

8) Lawyers who prosecute the offender.  (they seem to make the most money from this deal)

9) Judges and jury, who judge the offender and court room staff who make this possible.

10) Prisons and their staff, who might eventually keep the offender.

11) Drying out clinics, that will only work if the addict wants to dry out.

12) Politicians who waste valuable tax payer’s money, talking about and passing ineffective laws, which fail the law abiding citizen and the drug addict.

13) Money is also made from the sale of stolen goods on the Black Market.

14) The chain of drug dealers make huge amounts of money, along with the transporters and human carriers.

15) Customs officials at ports, who try to stop drugs destined for the streets entering the country.  Many companies are involved in designing methods and machines to beat the dealers’ ever more ingenious ways of getting drugs through customs.  

Add to all this the fact that all these professional people cannot work without all their support staff, who have to be paid.  (ie. office workers, cleaners etc.)  Added to that is the tax paid on wages and goods needed to carry out these jobs and services.  

The cost of the addicts fix could be much less if laws were changed to help those who needed it.  If drugs (not substitutes) were given by a doctor on the NHS and the cost to the tax payer would greatly reduced as the addict would have no need to offend in order to cover the costs of the street drugs.

Alternative cost of an addict’s fix.

1) 10mgs of dia-morphine would cost the NHS £6 to £7.  100mgs of dia-morphine £26 from a family doctor, yet to give these drugs to an addict is seen as unethical! (unethical for whom?)

2) Doctor (and his staff) to prescribe the drug.

3) Chemist and their staff to dispense the drug.

4) Education of the dangers of the misuse of drugs. 

5) Drying out clinics and their staff to help those addicts who are ready to stop taking drugs.

Addicts need help, not punishment.  No one lives their life with the intention of becoming a junkie.  Most addicts hate themselves and what they do, but until they are ready to give up and change their life, they are trapped in a cycle of crime and hostility, which doesn’t help anyone, only those who stand to make money out of it.  An addict’s prime objective is not making money, or committing a robbery, but getting their next fix.  Addicts are the bottom line of a chain of events that is created and supported by the system and as such they take the brunt of all the hatred.  

Opponents of this idea will argue that drugs for addicts should not be made easily available at the tax payer’s expense and that those who are not addicts, could easily become addicts.  Illegal drugs are already easily available on our streets, and the expense to the tax payer is far greater than it ever need be.  If addicts were able to obtain their drugs from a doctor, the dealers would simply be put out of business and crime figures would plummet. 

Why then are the drug laws not changed?  I believe that they are not changed, simply because if they were, too many important people and businesses would stand to lose too much money.  It has nothing to do with ethics, or the illegality of it all, but purely to do with money.  

Evil will flourish, when good people turn the other way.

Cindy Thompson