At the time of writing I don’t know why the details of why the road at the side of Penny Pie Park was closed off for hours last Friday.
All I do know is that when I was out walking the dog, the sight of a motorcycle being lifted onto the back of a tow truck and the rider’s helmet sitting on the wall and all those police cars parked up and the police tape didn’t tell a very happy story.
Twenty-four hours later and there is a car on the other exit road from the gyratory there towards Pogmoor, abandoned, its front end totally smashed in.
Two young men, apparently, crashed into the barrier – I’m guessing from the state of the vehicle they weren’t doing 30mph – but luckily for them just got out and walked off.
When I’m out with the dog I notice the speed some cars do around there is scary.
Throw into the mix that drivers are ALWAYS getting in the wrong lane, either because they are confused by the signs or decide to go in the wrong lane deliberately so they can skip a more congested lane and then cross into the one they want at the last minute.
There are always horns blasting because of drivers cutting in front of others and I’m only surprised there aren’t more accidents, probably down to some drivers at least having their wits about them.
On the M62 this week, drivers were held up for ten hours because of a multi-vehicle pile-up. God knows what anyone with young kids (or women’s bladders) felt like.
But at least they got to go home. Motorways are long, straight roads and should be safe as houses.
As should the Penny Pie Park gyratory because it’s got a speed limit of 30mph and it’s pretty well signposted. Of course both are safe… it’s the drivers who aren’t.
Mind how you go, folks.
“What’s the secret to your fitness?” someone asked Cliff Richard, who is probably about one hundred and fifty by now.
“Just keep moving,” he said. And he’s right. Something I’ve discovered better late than never.
Having a sedentary job isn’t the most healthy of professions and I can’t say I’ve been one of those who feel a rush of endorphins when I’ve jogged up the road.
But when you get a bit of a scare, your outlook changes. In my case it was just a dodgy knee. Dear god, the pain! Letting it atrophy wasn’t an option unless I wanted to carry on walking like a crippled crab, so I forced myself to start shifting a bit more and I’ll go so far as to say the dog has saved my life.
Just a scrappy little rescue found as a stray but she needs walking and I have to walk her and getting some fresh air and my legs shifting has led to so many benefits I could turn evangelical about them.
I’m no longer breathless going over the railway line stairs for a start, in fact I can run up them without turning aubergine.
I’ve got pals who balance on one leg while they are waiting for the kettle to boil, in preparation for the advancing years which are too near around the corner for my liking.
Keeping the strength in your legs helps you avoid falls. Our days of falling over for fun are long gone, now falls are scary. Encourage your elderly relatives to move more, get their muscles and their lungs working.
If an old couch potato like me can learn to embrace it – even enjoy it – trust me, anyone can!
