Fixed Speed Camera 30; Chang; Pippa

Have been clocked by a speed camera for the second time in my driving career. The criminal activity happened on the A40 between Ross-on-Wye and Gloucester - this stretch is single carriageway with a few 30mph zones in villages. If only I had consulted the handy list here of West Mercia Speed Camera Locations (but honestly, who does that kind of thing).

The little critter that snapped me was Fixed Speed Camera 30, on the A40 at Lea going towards Gloucester. Obviously, one doesn't really have a leg to stand on but it's somewhat galling given the infrequency with which I actually drive these days. I had been making a conscious effort to observe 30mph zones since my previous 'clocking', but obviously one's attention does wander occasionally. Perversely, if you do slow down to observe a 30mph limit, particularly on a trunk road such as the A40, you get tailgated by other drivers who are evidently impatient that you've slowed down to the speed limit. You just can't win. Will be sure to wave to Fixed Speed Camera 30 the next time I drive past it (which will be at 30mph or less, obviously) and repress all urges to smash its shiny face in.


I was somewhat surprised to see that there's a Wikipedia entry on the A40 - ideal for those (legions of us, probably) wanting to find out more about it. There's a description of the route and the towns it passes through/round.

The good news is that Ray's fab job boarding out and insulating our attic is now finished and shelving is installed. We've certainly got our money's worth out of the IVAR shelving units from IKEA we acquired for our first unfurnished flat around 12 years ago. I had fun on Sunday relocating various of my less-used possessions and unpacking the boxes that had been stored up there since we moved in. The snag with unpacking boxes is that there's a tendency to open the box and then remember exactly why you boxed the stuff up in the first place (because you couldn't think what the hell to do with it). The trick is probably to actually give it away and resist the urge to just box it up again.

Public pressure forced me to relocate Chang, the small furry thing (can't think of a more specific word) that my dad brought me back from China some years ago (see The Banishing of Chang). It has been claimed that he stinks (certainly had a weird smell originally, but I would contend that it's worn off now), is made out of domestic cat hair (highly probable, I would think) and that his eyes follow one around the room (wacko territory).

While going through my stuff found my collection of three Pippa dolls. Pippa was a cute pocket-sized fashion doll and I remember her being popular among girls at my primary school in the 1970s. I wasn't massively into dolls but I always preferred Pippa to Sindy (might just have been the name). All three of my dolls are currently naked - their clothes would appear to have been lost over the years - so if I were particularly sad I might buy them each an outfit - Pippa outfits appear to be available on eBay. (Naturally, I'm not that sad ...) The Asian variant on the right was named Jasmine, from memory. Websites related to Pippa include http://www.pippadoll.net/ and Pippa's Obituary.