Coronavirus streets in Manchester - LXXIII

The pandemic’s long tail

The latest figures as of yesterday in the UK, we have 3,927 active cases of COVID-19 infections, this would suggest that someone is laid low, for them, the looming spectre of the pandemic is a grim reality that many seem to have forgotten because it is apparently out of mind and out of sight. [Worldometers: United Kingdom]

It is however without dispute that the world has changed perceptively in some cases or otherwise. I barely see anyone donning a mask, but the absence of someone I regularly see at some meeting place almost always suggests they have taken ill rather than having taken a holiday.

There have been no notifications for a vaccine booster yet as those who are immunosuppressed would be informed of the prospect for them to prepare. What I started during the pandemic and led to my discovery of Manchester was walking, and walking helps with a unique observation and perspective of my beautiful city, the people, the buildings, the events, and the changes.

The dangers with bicycles

Electric bicycles remain an enduring menace of lawlessness, the riders who no longer need to exert any physical energy in peddling their bicycles are totally oblivious to road traffic rules, and they run through red lights as if they do not exist. If they are not weaving through pedestrians whose precarious existence is exacerbated by being anywhere outside their homes, they would be run through at risk of life or limb.

I was leapfrogging over a bicycle left lying on the pavement as the rider went in for a KFC, later, it was someone who forgot to activate his phone’s camera to keep an eye on the path before him as he interacted with his phone with carefree abandon and just inches of bumping into another.

Working on a hybrid high

I suspect anyone putting out a job advertisement with the strict requirement of working in the office where the work can be done remotely is on a losing streak, they would get fleeting interest. The worst you can offer is a hybrid working scenario, and whilst we cannot expect to work from home permanently, the flexibility and the ability to negotiate those terms must be available or your vacancy would remain vacant.

The buildings, we have a construction site everywhere and cranes not of the avian type towering around the city lit up with colours just to prevent cranes from flying into them at night or we, the slightly taller people from hitting our heads when stumbling out of nightclubs totally inebriated that our minds are rivalling kites for height.

Milking us for every penny

In the completed buildings the shops that were a longer walk away are now at my doorsteps, the Starbucks that disappeared almost two years ago has now halved its distance from my door. I stopped shopping at Tesco when one of their managers installed anti-homeless spikes outside one of their stores in London. I guess all is forgiven now that it is too inconvenient to ignore the closeness of the new store, the distance is not enough to attract a charge of outraging public decency, if I left home with just a towel wrapped around my head.

Imagine not having to walk 3 kilometres for a small tub of taramasalata, though I won’t be spending an extra 30p on milk that goes for less at my local Sainsbury’s. Between online shopping through Amazon for Iceland produce, Aldi competes favourably on price for most of my needs, and Marks & Spencer when slightly indulgent, then Spar for just the comfort of a sweet tooth, what I need is an automated shopping trolley with the instincts and intelligence of a dog that respects voice commands, throw in robotic arms and it might well go and do the shopping while I occupy myself missing the life and wonder of my city. Probably a bad idea, except if it would bring those lawless bicycles to heel on our somewhat dangerous streets.

The clear and present danger of irresponsible cyclists

The bane of powered vehicles

Beyond the terror of devil dogs that I wrote about recently, it is electric-powered bicycles and scooters that have become a menace on our roads. That fact that the human-powered element of pedalling or scooting means that the concentration of thought and process in the engagement of muscle is diverted elsewhere and that, in itself, becomes a kind of distraction.

Blog - Opinion: Public safety is paramount regardless of your cuddly dog

The bicycles or scooters whiz off at speed with the riders literally oblivious of the responsibility and due concern that comes with being in charge of such a vehicle. That and their inclination to ignore traffic and road usage rules along with pedestrians being terrorised on the pavements makes them a clear and present danger to others and themselves.

An uncaring cohort for safety

What baffles me and I have written about this having lived in Amsterdam is how riders can ply busy streets or pavements at night without lights. Usually, the riders are in dark clothing, and you are usually unaware of their proximity to you until they are so close, you have to avert a collision if they are totally uncaring.

I could go on about my concerns and bugbears, but the reason for this blog is a rather close encounter for which I should curb the urge to be dramatic even as my recollection of it leaves me in a shudder as to how it could have been a lot worse and it does not bear thinking of apart from lifting up hands in gratitude for being spared an inauspicious ending.

What just happened?

I was at a bus stop leaning on the inside wall of the enclosure with a foot out speaking to my friend on the phone, when suddenly I had a knock on the outside of my left knee and sudden surge of pain over the top of my midfoot, the shock with a directed gaze to a young man crashing off his bicycle as he came to find out if he had hit me.

“Are you crazy?” I shouted out at him, a bystander who saw everything was totally nonchalant that I wonder if I had taken the full impact of that collision whether she would have bothered to help or call for any help. She was in a Tesco supermarket top, my views of that are best left off this blog.

An entrenched lawlessness

However, the lawlessness of the whole encounter and how one was ill-equipped to find any sort of redress and sanction just left me wanting to nurse my bruises than do much else as very little would have been learnt by the cyclist as I upbraided him.

He was riding a hired electric bike on a busy road against the traffic, and he decided to cut away unto the wide pavement to take another shortcut over the pavement to ride against the traffic avoiding an intersection or junction. As he tried to mount the pavement, he hit the kerb, lost control, and ran into me and crashed some 10 metres further on before coming over to find out if I was okay.

He would have done this weaving through obstacles and dangers, hardly slowly down to assess the full risk of any manoeuvre, a young exuberance overwhelming any sense of caution or responsibility to others, daring to do rather than caring at all, I could have lost it and decked him, but that was unnecessary.

But for the grace of God

As he left to pick up his bicycle and ride away, I remembered I was still on a call with my friend and continued the call. However, when I thought about it this morning, this chap is probably doing an electrically propelled 30 mph or 48.2 km/h. A full-on collision or if I had been pinned against the wall of the bus stop could have wiped me out, needing hospital care. It was a close shave.

There is no doubt that the law has to catch up with this the road usage of electrically propelled bicycles and scooters, I also wonder of a new set of rules need to be written and there is no doubt that policing with the strict enforcement of the said rules is essential for adherence and deterrence. There have been too many accidents, some resulting in fatalities and many attributable to irresponsible road usage. It needs to be addressed with alacrity.

You can be minding your own business and out of nowhere danger invades your space, it is the grace of God that keeps us. For that, we are very thankful.

Dreamscape: To Japan on a bicycle

Seeing my guests off

We had a wonderful evening together, friends and strangers about to be friends, and then it was time to go home. They had come a long way and we set off to the station.

There were two bicycles, that is what they apparently rode on to visit as we made for the station. It was late, we had to be quick. On getting to the station, I was in charge of one of the bicycles and we had difficulty going through the gates or finding the right platform.

In the process, we lost sight of each other and I was left with one of the strangers, in the confusion, as we ran up and down the escalators, one of us walked the way down an escalator as it was rolling up, I could not do that with a bicycle. We finally found our platform, two trains leaving at the same time, for Japan.

A toilet wonder to behold

I got on the train and found a seat as the stranger did beside me, only to be disturbed by a hawker who through the whole journey was selling snake-oil remedies using the context of Japanese fables of old, nothing that I heard was worth parting with my hard-earned cash for.

Meanwhile, the technology on the train could not be ignored, I could push a button, very much like the stopping bell of a bus, to initiate a bowel evacuation by wireless means, fascinating it was, that no one could tell who was filling the toilet with waste, it could really have been anyone else.

Time and station stops late into the night, we got to last stop and alighted. Then it seemed our none of our other company made any of the trains, they were stuck somewhere incomprehensible as we spoke on the phone.

A cab to nowhere sensible

I thought I could ride the bicycle back home when I realised I had left it on the train, the train that already left the station taking the staff with it. The other trains were pulling out that I just could not summon the courage to tell my friend that I had lost her bicycle.

The matter of getting home from Japan became a pressing issue, I had to get a taxi, the first shop had unhelpful people who pretended to offered a service of indifference and mockery, they did not care. When I found the cab office, the faces all looked familiar but I was not sure, the drivers unperturbed in every state of lackadaisical abandon until the controller was pointed out to me.

He asked where I was going, my home was a place I had not been in 27 years, the cost I could not meet because I did not have enough money and as I was thinking of booking a hotel room for the night, I did not have to do any of that, I was saved the ordeal.

REM - Rapid Eye Madness

For between Edinburgh where I am, the London Underground where we boarded trains for Japan, probably a suburb called Japan-town very much like Chinatown, a cab office that seemed to have Nigerian drivers to wanting a ride to Isolo in Lagos, Nigeria, I was caught in the landscape of vivid dreams, where distances are shortened and problems can be quite insurmountable.

I had jolted out of my sleep as the background activity coming from my computer playing Channel 4 on BBC was broadcasting the Japan season ended. Phew!

Thought Picnic: To see a bicycle with unequal wheels

Bolts amiss with much damage

I returned to Amsterdam this afternoon to pick up my bicycle. It needed a basic repair job of attaching the back carriage to the body of the bicycle with two nuts and bolts.

I had planned to ride down to the repair shop where I bought it a few years ago with the intention of even doing the repairs myself if they had no time to see to it immediately.

As a walked up to the apartment block where I once lived, I was somewhat emotionless about it, it had become part of my past and it was necessary to be detached and move on swiftly.

When I saw the bicycle, some vandal had bent the back carriage out of shape such that the lower part near the hub of the wheel having lost a nut jutted into the spokes of the wheel – why anyone will find pleasure in doing that escapes me.

A quick work of it

Precarious as it was, I was able to do a temporary fix to ride the bicycle to the repair shop. The man recognised that I bought the bicycle from years before and I later reminded him that the second-hand bike I had before that once belonged to his mother who was quite a careful owner.

For years, I had used second-hand bikes that seemed to be what most people have though more are now getting new bicycles.

I was able to persuade them to do the job today and I was told to return in 30 minutes as I tacked on a few more adjustments like a new front lamp, air in the types, removing the annoying dynamo and just a basic service if time allows it.

Within 25 minutes they called to say it was ready, they had done everything and even sorted out the faulty switch on the rear lighting, the bicycle felt as good as mended as we had a light banter about other things.

Penny-farthing, plenty to point out

The repairman then said there was one bicycle he would really like to see me ride since I looked dressed for it – hat and all, except for the fact that I should have worn a bow-tie and not a day cravat.

As he showed me the bicycle, I realised I had only ever seen a penny-farthing in books and never in real life – that was really funny, if only I had the presence of mind to take a picture of it then.

Besides, I had to sure I could take my bicycle on the trains – apparently, we are not allowed to carry big bicycles on board during the rush hour and on my way into Amsterdam, I found that the trains had spaces allocated for bicycles with priority sticks to boot – so I made allowances for other to walk round my bicycle to use the fold-up seats but I did not have to be inconvenienced as to why my bicycle was on that coach.

I always have many times had the unique opportunity to point to signs on the train in terms of priority, noise, seating and much else – when I lost my way, my phone came to the rescue, I keyed in my destination and got vocal directions to help me get home.

Preventing bicycle rage

The ride of note

Bicycles are the main mode of transport around the city of Amsterdam and I once had a good few. In fact, when my uncle and aunt visited years ago and heard I was going to pick up my bicycle as I collected them from the airport, little did I know that my uncle felt I was living a pauper’s life – after 13 or so years in Europe, I was riding bicycles.

By the time we walked past the 3-storey bicycle storage rank and they saw bicycles being put to such ingenious use, they realised that there were better practicalities for bicycles than the ostentation of cars and outrageously exorbitant parking charges.

Flattened from movement

One late night I rode into town and got a puncture, the regular public transport had closed and I did not have enough to get me home by taxi so I half rode the bicycle as close as possible to my bike repairer’s shop and then got a taxi back home.

I had the feeling that I might have damaged the tyre rim much as I was quite embarrassed that riding a bike making such a flat tyre racket was not the dome thing.

Meanwhile there were people riding bikes past me which were more ramshackle than a bone shaker or a rusty penny-farthing.

Note that bad at all

In fact, I thought the bicycle was a write-off, I visited the repairs shop to get a new bicycle – I had before purchased the owner’s mother’s old bike many years before and then the one I had parked just about a kilometre away with a puncture.

When I told him of it, he insisted on repairing the bike than my purchasing a new one, so I went to get it and left it for repairs over the week.

When I collected it on Saturday, the whole cost of repairs came to a might 10 Euros, along with the advice that one could really right bikes with punctured tyres for quite a distance before the tyre of rim became irreparable – but the discomfort and embarrassment was enough for me not to want to ride any further.

Locking up my bicycle

The use of bicycles does leave me a candidate for an extreme anger management course, one of my pet hates is with bicycle locks.

The received wisdom is to have good locks that probably cost more than the bicycle and then attach the bicycle to some rigid and firm supporting frame, the idea being, if bikes get stolen, your would be the last to be taken because the others have easier to break locks.

However, you should never have your bicycle outside in the weeks running up to the Queen’s Day celebrations because thieves prowl the streets with trucks picking up bicycles to sell at that the flea markets that have become representative of that day.

Locking up my anger

Dotted all around the city are bicycle ranks in which to place and lock bicycles to the frame, a lock of ample length allows you to set the bicycle in its section an allow space for adjacent bicycles taking account for the handle bars and other attachments.

The accepted generalisation about the Dutch is that they could be a bit miserly and that translates in this case into smaller bicycle locks that make it difficult to place in adjacent bicycles – the inconsiderate import of this is the first bicycle is secure and no care is given for the community spirit of allowing other bicycles to be properly secured.

Stop anywhere and ignore others

This lack of community spirit extends to people who could very well get off the bicycle path at junctions or intersection if they have to converse before parting – people just have a tendency to stop in the middle of the path – very much like stopping your car in the middle of the road and popping out for some emergency shopping.

My anger is aggravated by those who do not stop at the traffic lights, having wheeled themselves forward but yet unable to cross the road are then beyond being able to notice when the lights turn.

What then happens is those who have been patiently waiting to go now have to ring their bells to get the impatient people out of the way.

Traffic violations in a lawless town

More anger points are those who ride up the wrong way or ride on the pedestrian pathways, I am beginning to think Amsterdam is as lawless as the Wild West of old, apart from the occasional fines for not having lights for night riding, I have not seen the police come down tough of poor bicycle conduct.

This is frustrating considering it is the most prevalent form of transport in Amsterdam.

Now, this explains the animosity between drivers of powered vehicles and pedal-powered vehicles, the ones on bicycles seem to be as daring as super-human people who can come to no harm as they risk life and limb to cars, buses or even trams.

Considerate road usage

However, when it comes to the tussle between cars and bicycles, the road markings are important, sometimes, the cyclist does have right-of-way, it does not matter if the cyclist is coming at speed or slowly, once observed, the car driver has to stop and give way – no road or passage is the exclusive reserve of the vehicle.

Pedestrians, cyclists and drivers all have to be aware of the other, respect traffic rules and be considerate of other road users – maybe then; I do not have to go on an anger management course after all.

Welcome in Amsterdam - Let us walk

Getting out a bit

We stow our bicycles away on a moored ferry, there are probably more bicycles than people in Amsterdam, I have 4 in different stages of usability, I was once a closet circus act.

As I got to the Amsterdam Central Station on Sunday, the weather was fine and gay as the sun came out in radiance not too oppressive and the breeze was moderate enough for a leisurely stroll.

I have never taken the deceptively long walk from the station to my home, deceptive in that, I can very well see my apartment block from the station on a good day, but it is a good 40 minutes away by the plod.

The WikiMapia view of my walk is from the Central Station on the middle left South bank, down the waterfront to right where the right where the second bridge links to the island strip which is in the middle of The IJ known as Het IJ - IJ is also a Dutch diphthong with the closest English sound being that of the letter I.

Living by the water presents its surprises and this time I realized how much one misses out of nature, wonder and the work of man when we get on one vehicle or another - even on my trusty bicycle, I miss so much.

With camera handy, I began snapping away, the slideshow is a depiction of an Amsterdam I have not cared to notice.

The detail however, is a narrative from the bicycle shed as a moored ferry, the absent gas flares around the Shell Building, amazing views down the IJ towards the old Amsterdam harbours in the East where I live.

This is one side of Amsterdam, far from the madding crowd.

PS: Welcome in Amsterdam is a literal translation Dutch to English in what we call Denglish - I reviewed a book on Denglish in April 2006.

Stupid is as stupid does

My Bikeydes Benz

When my uncle visited Amsterdam a few years ago with his wife, as I picked them up from the airport, I also told them that I needed to collect my bicycle from the Central Station on our way back to my apartment.

Not being one who could read minds, it appeared they were both in a way crest-fallen about not being picked up by a car or some other exotic vehicle.

However, once they got top the Central Station and saw the population of bicycles including the 3-storey bicycle storage area, it dawned on them that bicycles are in fact the best mode of transport in Amsterdam centre.

Not to talk of the many variations of the use of the bicycle in carrying goods, carting kids, and the reckless abuse of traffic etiquette amongst other things.

So when my uncle was leaving he surmised that he dreaded having to tell people back in Nigeria that I did not have a big car but 3 bicycles. What do I need 3 bicycles for? I’m a 6-wheeler juggler – Only kidding!

Lanes for lames without brains

In my first year in Amsterdam, I had 5 accidents, all involving the tourists except one where I was blind-sided as a lady collided with me.

One thing about the Netherlands is that literally all town centres have dedicated cycle lanes and pedestrian walks too.

Usually, the bike lane is paved with red bricks and the pedestrian pavements are grayish and elevated. There are exceptions to this convention, but there are clear demarcations.

In many instances there are proper markings with the drawings of a bicycle indication the direction of travel and then traffic lights to serve bicycles which could be timed different from pedestrian crossings, since pedestrians need more time to cross than bicycles.

This however is of no import to many, you see oncoming traffic on your lane, and the traffic lights seem to be always green or let us assume everyone but me is colour-blind not seeing the difference between Red for Stop and Green for Go.

Stop look, listen then move

I always stop at the traffic lights; having astigmatism in the right eye, it is very difficult for me to judge distance and speed of approach, so I rarely cross roads without being certain that I have been given right of way.

This is frustrated completely by people who seem to have lost the brakes on their bicycles and tourists, yes tourists, who seeing the wide cycle lanes think it is a free pedestrian walkway even with the clearly drawn bicycles.

So, imagine the cacophony of ding-a-ling bicycle bells and an apparently hearing but pretending to be deaf tourist who gets run over by a speeding cyclist, well I have no pity for the tourist.

They should have read their travel guides and kept their eyes wide open – but then if stupid is as stupid does – then stupid is as stupid would get harmed.

Meanwhile, I have to take therapy for cycle-path rage and aggression suppression course just because some tourist who arrived on a cattle-truck with wings on bargain fares has not noticed what other tourists are doing – keeping off the cycle lanes.

The death of quality

Talking of those tourists; I could remember just about 8 years ago, the 45 minute flight from London to Amsterdam included a complete silver service. Nowadays, you have a sandwich flung at you it makes the job of air steward look like the lowest rung of courtesy and hospitality.

This is all because a new business model with cuts out the frills allows for air travel to be one of the cheapest means of transport that the taxes for air travel sometimes exceed the cost of the travel itself.

In this no-frills world, I have had my baggage utterly mishandled but baggage handlers because it not appears that fragile could easily mean – handle like a flight recorder – whilst, I do not want to pay over the odds for air travel, I think it is necessary to assess the quality of the service in general that allows you to seek appropriate redress.

If you fly cheap it is possible that when you need solutions you would be told that kind of service cannot be offered for the paltry sums of money you paid in the first instance.

In that sense, seeking quality at the right price is as good insurance as you will get anywhere, you are protected by the sense of ethical responsibility – hopefully.

Louts about

So, walk up a street from Thursday evening and it is probable that a number of my countrymen from England are completely drugged up and drunk to excess causing more than a stir.

They create a scene of shouting and singing tuneless and toneless football songs as they ogle at the windows shopping spectacle of prostitutes in the Red Light district.

Then again, another influx of tourists happens on Queen’s Day in commemoration of the Queen’s Birthday, though our Queen was born in January, you cannot get revellers out in deep winter.

She has adopted and retained the birthday of her mother which is April the thirtieth, just at the start of spring.

Then imagine the tourists who come for a pub crawl and the peasant folk who travel in to see the bright lights of Amsterdam.

Everyone seems to have a market stall selling all sorts of goods and wares, some of which could include bicycles which were stolen over the 2 weeks before the celebration because they were not attached to immovable frames with locks that should cost more than the total value of the bicycle.

Anyways, in the month of April, much care should be taken about how your bicycle is stored because; I once lost my bicycle to the Queen’s day pilferers who then sold on my bike to some lout for a bargain price – a steal.