Take Care!

I’ve worked out why everyone always says “Take care” in our town. It’s because of what could happen on the bridal path that you will find just beyond the allotments.

For the most part our town is a strict follower of Health and Safety and to their credit, they have taken it even further. They have extended the concept to dogs.  Almost every shop in our town has  sign that says, “Well behaved dogs are welcome to come in.”  The one that blew my mind, one that I thought could have qualified itself as a “dogs to stay outside”, was an Art Gallery.  They have a sign, “Dogs are welcome! In fact, please do bring them in!”. If I were the owner of the art gallery I would reserve the right to keep the 4 legged hairy leg-lifting creatures very faraway from my portraits and landscapes… but not in this East Anglian town. If they aren’t allowed in for one or other bizarre reason like it is a crystal antique shop or a butcher, then you will find a bowl of water placed outside for the dog to rehydrate while it’s owner shops.   

In most places in the world a newcomer will be told “Don’t worry, you will make friends as soon as your children start school.” In this town, I have been told by someone who doesn’t yet know she is my new best friend “Don’t worry, as soon as Black Jack arrives from Africa, you will meet people.” I thought we were nuts enough to be flying our dog over at high costs instead of giving him to another family member to love and to hold. But no! The locals are all waiting to welcome him with open arms ready to do “healings” on him in case he has suffered trauma from the flight. 

So to get back to the bridle path.  When you walk out of this town, just a little way away from the shops that keep the dogs off the streets, beyond the relics of the town walls that belonged to Will the C, you will come across a rural railway crossing as you take your Sunday afternoon amble with your vulnerable 11 and 13 year old.  And this rural railway crossing is completely unprotected, except for a little wooden gate and a sign.  Beyond the little wooden gates, silent bullet fast British trains go zooming past at such speed, that if you were to be in their way by mistake or misfortune, I do believe that the force of the impact would send you into the atmosphere and that there would be no mortal remains left around which any family in the developed or developing world, could grieve your passing. 

I can imagine that at some stage some people would have complained to the local authorities.

“Sir, the people are complaining.”

“Are they now, Jones, what about?”

“They are complaining Sir, about the unprotected railway crossing on the bridal path just outside of town, Sir. They are saying that having trains that travel at the speed of light that could potentially shoot a body to the stars, Sir, they are saying that these crossings aren’t in line with national Health and Safety Policies, Sir.  They are saying they want something done about it, Sir.”

“I see.  And what do the people want done about it, Jones?”

“Sir, they are saying that something like a siren warning the people of the trains or a pedestrian bridge, or some booms should be put up, Sir.  The people are saying that they have seen this done effectively in other parts of the world, Sir.”

“Really, Jones? What other parts of the world then?”

“They mentioned Africa, Sir, and Fish Hoek in particular, Sir.”

“Okay, I see, Jones. Well, the people do have a point. It does sound a little dangerous and chancy having very fast trains zooting through unprotected crossings just outside of town, Jones.  But before we do anything about it, can I ask if all the other national Health and Safety measures have been implemented?”

“Which ones Sir?”

“Well, are all the children in the country wearing shoes all the time, Jones?”

“They are, Sir.”

“And have we put up those electronic diagrams on the trains that show people which carriage they are in, and how heavily loaded each carriage happens to be at that moment?”

“We have indeed Sir, although I have forgotten why we did that.”

“Yes, I have too Jones, but are they up at least?”

“Yes sir, they are indeed.”

“Right.  What about poetry on the underground trains to stimulate the passengers mentally and to comfort them emotionally?  Do we have poems on the tubes?”

“We do Sir.”

“And are all the water bowls for dogs outside shops filled up everyday Jones?”

“They are, Sir.” 

“Alright then, if that is all done I suppose we can look to dangerous pedestrian crossings in the face of high speed trains… I tell you what Jones…”

“What, Sir?” 

“Until we have it covered, why not put up a sign for the people?”

‘Certainly Sir, what should the sign say Sir?”

“Oh, I don’t know… Tell the people to “listen for the trains”.

“The silent ones, Sir?”

“Yes, the silent ones.  Tell the people to listen for the trains, and because you are right they are silent trains, tell the people also to be careful when crossing.”

“Right Sir. Am on to it, Sir.”

And that is why when you reach the incredibly dangerous unprotected bridal path crossing outside town you will find a sign that says, “Listen for (silent and very fast) trains, and Take Care while crossing.”