I’m a single bollard away from asking the council if they’ve lost their minds
The only reasonable explanation for everything that’s been happening on the road beside my house is that the short stretch of tarmac is about to become part of the official driving test route. Soon, cars with L plates will line up to pull into the road in order that the test candidate can fully appraise its gleaming white new markings. ‘What markings are these?’ the surly (they’re always surly) examiner will ask. To which the correct answer will be ‘all of them’.
I’m not kidding. There are more lines outside the primary school now than there are in all the copybooks inside it. It is as though South Dublin County Council realised, towards the end of last year, that they had a surplus of white paint and decided to use it all up on a single short stretch of road in a sleepy housing estate. There are so many marks, ramps, crossings, railings and bollards on the road now that it may be simultaneously possible to stage the final round of the Aga Khan trophy and land a jumbo jet on it.
Before somebody in the roads department suffered a breakdown, this 100 metre stretch of road had no markings at all, apart from a pedestrian crossing and a vague Don’t Even Think About It yellow box outside the school that sits at one end. The remainder of the road didn’t seem to need any user instructions or signage to convey traffic safely from corner to corner. I’ve mentioned here before that as far as I am aware, I am the only person who’s ever cycled up or down the road but, given that it is unusually wide for a suburban housing estate, I never felt the need for a devoted cycle lane to take me out of the snaking line of angry traffic that, during rush hour, can be, oh, four cars long.
Now I have two of them, all to myself. I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, but they are both on the far side of the road — meaning that I now have to cross the road to start safely cycling — and only one goes the full 100 metre distance (the other switches back to the other side of the road just before the school, requiring a second crossing). I’m just saying that if the council had told me in advance that they were cutting down beautiful, mature trees and building a cycle lane network on the road beside my house just for me, I might have declined (or at least requested that one of the lanes might be on the same side of the road as me).
Before the crazy time, this constant crossing wouldn’t have mattered a hill of beans since very few cars use the road and its width provided excellent sight lines. Now though, in addition to the cycle lanes, the zigs, the zags, the ramps, the restriction and all the other bells and whistles available to the people in the roads department (who may have been on mind-altering substances), there are designated car parking spaces on my side of the road, which means you can no longer see the full way up and down the road. There are also, I noted yesterday, bicycle parking spaces on the road. Again, I would refer the council to the likelihood that I am the only person in the area who owns a bike and I have a shed.
I’m not the only local resident losing my mind over all this. Neighbours who I’ve never heard swear before are dropping the F-bomb down in SuperValu as the whole parish wanders round in a perpetual fug of WTF? Local politicians have shoved leaflets through our doors, acknowledging that they’ve been contacted by several concerned WTFers. There may be a meeting.
Meanwhile, the work continues. The hard hats are still at it and the other day, a barrier appeared across the path two doors down, preventing pedestrian access while they construct, I don’t know, an artificial ski jump or something. We have been gifted a second pedestrian crossing, about 60 metres away from the first. The curvy corners at the junction of my own little enclave and the mad road have been permanently blocked off and nobody can even guess why.
Six months ago I lived in a sleepy cul de sac off a quiet, wide, unmarked side road. Now I would appear to be living in an airport long-term car park designed by Salvador Dali.
I haven’t a clue what is going on but right now, I am just a single bollard away from phoning the council to ask somebody — anybody — if they’re ok, hun?