Ringroad Rage
Oct. 20th, 2023 09:31 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
smokingbootOoh, sick.
Too sick to be graphic about it.
Meanwhile, the storm's abated. I love storms; Babet whirled around the house roaring and raining and howling, and the trees bent, and the window panes were full of russet leaves... now all is calmer, it's just raining. I feel an afternoon of Powell and Pressburger coming on, and then the rugby.
I was hoping to join others repping the Charity in an event happening today, where all the local organisations have their stall, but I'm not able to go anywhere. Grim. I hope I am OK for next week, when a lot is happening.
A back story behind today's event tickled me somewhat.The whole thing is run by Councillor Ringroad's wife, and she forgot to send invitations out to several organisations, three notably, all of which are connected with the resistance to the ringroad. One includes the gentleman who told her not to shout at him. Invitations came late, presumably at the point when someone somewhere pointed out to her that this is not a good look.
She wears her heart on her sleeve, if she is angry she cannot contain it. After the initial meeting, the Councillor and I were speaking amicably, but she turned away from me; it felt like she could not physically bear to look at me. She collected herself and we had a perfectly polite conversation, even offered me a lift home, but I think when the feeling rises, it runs through her body like a kind of lava, and must find a way out. At the last more acrimonious meeting, it is claimed she barged the petitioner opposing the ring road, and she certainly interrupted that lady often. In a way I get it. When truly angry, the feeling I have is almost transcendental, moving out beyond my fingertips, above my head, below my feet, like an enveloping aura. And I understand my father saying that when you're in that wave or riding it, you can't feel pain, nothing worries you at all. I can see its use and its power, but I also recall the huge shards of glass stuck in his hands when he broke through a window to get where he wanted to be. He barely noticed them, but he was still bleeding whether he felt it or not, still needed an ambulance. It's taken me decades to gain a modicum of control over my version of this, and I'm sure this lady is far less destructive. But a bit more control is definitely in order.
After all, there is an element of rationality that must be weighed against the indignation; the Councillor keeps touting a ringroad that would destroy a beauty spot and take business away from town, enriching some local landowners and property developers whilst adding nothing to the infrastructure. People are bound to add 2 and 2, of course they suspect the worst. And of course she and her husband remonstrate.
Meanwhile, our little stall is up and running today. The event started at 10 am. At 9.55 our reps there were asked their first question: 'What do you think of the ring road?'
Too sick to be graphic about it.
Meanwhile, the storm's abated. I love storms; Babet whirled around the house roaring and raining and howling, and the trees bent, and the window panes were full of russet leaves... now all is calmer, it's just raining. I feel an afternoon of Powell and Pressburger coming on, and then the rugby.
I was hoping to join others repping the Charity in an event happening today, where all the local organisations have their stall, but I'm not able to go anywhere. Grim. I hope I am OK for next week, when a lot is happening.
A back story behind today's event tickled me somewhat.The whole thing is run by Councillor Ringroad's wife, and she forgot to send invitations out to several organisations, three notably, all of which are connected with the resistance to the ringroad. One includes the gentleman who told her not to shout at him. Invitations came late, presumably at the point when someone somewhere pointed out to her that this is not a good look.
She wears her heart on her sleeve, if she is angry she cannot contain it. After the initial meeting, the Councillor and I were speaking amicably, but she turned away from me; it felt like she could not physically bear to look at me. She collected herself and we had a perfectly polite conversation, even offered me a lift home, but I think when the feeling rises, it runs through her body like a kind of lava, and must find a way out. At the last more acrimonious meeting, it is claimed she barged the petitioner opposing the ring road, and she certainly interrupted that lady often. In a way I get it. When truly angry, the feeling I have is almost transcendental, moving out beyond my fingertips, above my head, below my feet, like an enveloping aura. And I understand my father saying that when you're in that wave or riding it, you can't feel pain, nothing worries you at all. I can see its use and its power, but I also recall the huge shards of glass stuck in his hands when he broke through a window to get where he wanted to be. He barely noticed them, but he was still bleeding whether he felt it or not, still needed an ambulance. It's taken me decades to gain a modicum of control over my version of this, and I'm sure this lady is far less destructive. But a bit more control is definitely in order.
After all, there is an element of rationality that must be weighed against the indignation; the Councillor keeps touting a ringroad that would destroy a beauty spot and take business away from town, enriching some local landowners and property developers whilst adding nothing to the infrastructure. People are bound to add 2 and 2, of course they suspect the worst. And of course she and her husband remonstrate.
Meanwhile, our little stall is up and running today. The event started at 10 am. At 9.55 our reps there were asked their first question: 'What do you think of the ring road?'
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