Pligget

The longest commute in Europe has very little to do with poor public transport. That's a symptom of the problem, not its cause. It can be blamed squarely on the British weather, but not because of the famed "leaves on the line" and the "wrong kind of snow" that make such good seasonal copy. I reckon it's because the weather here is too good.

The British are a nation of gardeners, helped by the fact that our weather is so garden-friendly. It rains little and often, and we get neither the frozen winters nor the baking summers that most other countries endure. It's very rewarding to be able to tend your own lush green space, grow your own veg, and potter about outdoors - all only a couple of seconds from the rain-shelter of your own home (this is especially true if you live in the suburbs, where there is bugger-all else to do - vicious circle number one). So, Brits are unusually keen to have their own garden. Even in large cities, the vast majority of the population lives in houses with gardens - a lot of them no bigger than postage stamps, but gardens nevertheless.

Despite the fact that we live on an overcrowded little island, this insistence on owning our own plot puts a huge premium on land and drives property prices through the roof. To be able to afford something habitable, we are prepared to live a long way outside the cities where most of us work. The lack of community facilities in most city centres leads to them being wholly business-oriented and an unattractive place to live, forcing more people out into the suburbs (vicious circle number two). Property prices rise steadily, constantly outstripping inflation, putting pressure on people to buy rather than rent, to avoid getting left behind (vicious circle number three).

Go to a major city (or even a medium-sized town) in any other country and you'll find high-density populations living comfortably in central apartments. The absence of our peculiar desire to own a lawn the size of a picnic blanket means that their towns and cities stay populated and vibrant, allowing people to live near their work without sacrificing quality of life. The smaller proportion who do want to buy their own land can find something affordable that is still close to work. Because they don't suffer our ludicrous property price inflation, there isn't the same drive to get on the property ladder before it's too late, so they are happy to rent rather than buy. This also makes it easier to move when they change jobs.

This all has a knock-on effect to the transport problems that people wrongly identify as the cause of the problem. If people (voluntarily) have further to travel it takes them longer to get to work, meaning that effectively there is more traffic on the roads and rails even for the same number of commuters (if you multiply the number of travellers by their average commuting time). The problem is that easing transport problems (by putting in an infrastructure that is currently lacking) will only encourage more people to commute, or allow people to commute further in the same time. And building more houses in the commuter belt will only encourage those extended families and dysfunctional couples who currently live together to buy separate houses - so property prices won't drop appreciably, so commuting distances won't drop either.

The only way to tackle this problem is to find ways to convince people that they can live without gardens. That they can have a high quality of life even if their front door opens onto a landing, rather than onto what is laughingly referred to as a front garden.

Mind you, I can't talk. I live in a city-centre apartment (good), and yet I drive 35 miles each way to work in another town (bad). I drive rather than take the train because it's quicker (by an hour a day) and cheaper. I know it's not green, and I know it makes me part of the symptom, but an hour a day is a lot for a single parent. If someone could persuade my bosses to relocate here from Stevenage, I'd be one of the 28% of Cambridge commuters who cycle to work.

In the mean time, do as I say, don't do as I do.

What's Happened to the Comments Facility?

Search me. I'll investigate.

In the mean time, Iain tried to comment on my post about wanking with something that deserves to be read:

They're talking about banning smoking in pubs. This gives me an idea for a politically popular quid pro quo.

Iain, such a proposal would tax even your powers of eloquence, although I'd like to be there to see the motion (and the show of hands afterwards) at the City Council meeting.....

So about this first visit to the southern hemisphere:

I was lucky to have enough time to do a whirlwind tour of the city, and managed to squeeze off 174 photos before my camera memory ran out. It has to be said that about 40 of them were of the Opera House. In the end I conceded that there just isn't a best view of it - it looks amazing from every angle.

Given that Sydney must be one of the most photographed cities in the world, and the best-known of its landmarks are iconic, I've included a few samples which might be a fresh view for one or two of you.

First, an advert for Sydney's welcoming atmosphere. Botanic Gardeners of the world take note:

Being midwinter, the sun set around 5pm. Fortunately I had my trusty pocket tripod with me (a snip at £6.99 from Jessops!) and was able to keep snapping well into the night:

That last one of Darling Harbour was taken when I was feeling totally euphoric. That day I'd walked through the Botanical Gardens, bought pressies for my loved ones (including me), been to the top of the Sydney Tower, and had a fabulous swordfish steak on the quay at Darling Harbour as the sun set. The photo was taken at about 7pm after I'd just been for a 3D ride in the International Space Station (courtesy of the Imax cinema). I came out of the cinema onto the quayside, listening to Comfortably Numb on my new Ipod, and saw Darling Harbour at night. I hurriedly took a few snaps as I knew I was on my way back to the Opera House Drama Theatre to see Proof. The combination of recent experiences, current sensations and anticipation of the evening ahead was almost too much to take.

It was the best day I have ever spent on my own.

The last photo I took involved waiting an hour and a half at the window of the Quantas lounge at the airport. The tail of the BA 747 had been blocking my view of the city skyline while it was parked at the departure gate. It took an age to embark everyone and finally back away from the terminal, and then another age queueing to take off.

An enduring memory of Oz: While I was waiting for the 747 to move, I made several trips to the bar. Unlike every other lounge I've been to, where you can help yourself to little bottles or cans of beer, Quantas had had the forethought to provide beer pumps. On about the third visit, I arrived at the counter just as a distinguished-looking gent in a smart suit was choosing between the champagne and the Australian fizz. When he noticed the beer pumps, he gave me a nudge and said: "Hey, that's Ripper!"

Wanking is Good For You

This is fantastic. Now maybe we'll get some decent magazines in hospital waiting rooms.

Does it strike anyone else as odd that airlines are so trusting of their passengers that they rely on their goodwill to switch off their mobile phones to avoid interfering with the plane's navigation system? They never check whether you have actually done it.

This isn't consistent with their extreme conservatism as regards safety in other matters. There was the freak accident in 2000 when an Air France Concorde picked up a bit of debris in a tyre on take-off (that had fallen off a previous aeroplane), which flew up and punctured one of the fuel tanks and caused the plane to blow up. They grounded the whole fleet and fitted the equivalent of bulletproof vests to the tanks to stop it happening again. As if it would.

There's the silly business about the life-jackets, which have never been used. There's the insistence on dispensing plastic cutlery, to avoid the risk of a terrorist passenger managing to carve his way through the bullet-proof flight-deck door with a stainless steel butter-knife (incidentally, they'd better hope there are no terrorist groups emanating from Glasgow, because those full-sized wine bottles in club class would make a much better weapon than a Swiss Army Knife).

So this laid-back attitude towards mobile phones is odd.

Questions:

Is it that mobile phones don't actually cause the problems that the airlines make out, but they would just prefer that people pay to use the on-board phones?
Shouldn't the navigation systems be modified so that they are NOT susceptible to such interference?
Is there a potential terrorist threat from the deliberate use of phones during the flight, now that the in-flight cutlery has been rendered harmless?
Would it be possible to introduce a scheme for the temporary confiscation of phones during the flight?
Are restrictive and expensive safety measures only taken in response to actual disasters, as a marketing exercise to lure scared passengers back?

Perhaps when some on-board lovelorn teenager's surreptitious text message causes a plane to fly off course into a hillside they'll change their tune.

This afternoon I'm off on a preposterous journey. I'm flying 11000 miles to Sydney for a four-hour meeting, and then flying back. I'll be back (just) in time for my aunt and uncle's golden wedding bash on Sunday. I hope they're not expecting anything intelligible from me after 23 hours in an aluminium tube.

Somebody call for a priest

The Church of England had better believe in an afterlife, because it's vital signs are looking decidedly dodgy.

This is an organisation which promotes itself as a paragon of tolerance and the "love thy neighbour" values of Jesus Christ.

At the same time it flies in the face of equal rights principles to the extent that it allows the prejudices within its ranks to force a worthy employee out of his job. This on the pretext of "wisdom" written thousands of years ago.

Where would we be if everyone adhered to the judgments and proclamations of virtually pre-historic times?

This just shows what an inconsequential organisation the CoE is determined to be.

On the one hand I feel sorry for it - the vast majority of its employees make a valuable contribution to our society. On the other hand, I reckon that if they are determined to follow a bizarre code laid down by a tiny superstitious minority who were effectively from a different world, then they deserve all the ridicule and marginalisation they bring on themselves.

Commuter Misery

What's Happened to the Comments Facility?

Sydney

Wanking is Good For You

In-flight Safety

Going Down Under

Somebody call for a priest