I had quite a steady number today. Delivered five cars to a customer in Peterborough during a sudden if rather half hearted rainstorm – which I liked. Each period of rain puts the inevitable hosepipe ban and water shortages off for another day or so. Time for a quick coffee, then round to see what there was at the main dealers to collect. As a result of a blinding sales blitz, there was nothing. Well, that’s easy, then. This meant that I could now going direct to my next job in Scunthorpe without having to stop off at base to tip. Rather than the usual easy-but-dull plod up the A1, I decided that by way of a change, I’d be Micra man and take the pretty route up the A15 via Bourne and Lincoln. Time was not of the essence, and I’d find a place for lunch on the way.
By now the sun was out, and the A15 was remarkably quiet. Even Bourne wasn’t choked with parked delivery trucks making deliveries (inconsiderate lorry drivers, parking anywhere they feel like it, mutter, mutter, mutter …) Heading out of Bourne, I trundled through various villages that looked as though they came out of Country Life or possibly Heartbeat. Definitely not Eastenders, that’s for sure. Morton, Folkingham and Osbournby all stood out, with large ornamental gardens a blaze of colour and neatly trimmed flower beds and … er … stuff. I am to gardening what Fred Goodwin is to profitable and sustainable banking, so all I can say is that it all looked rather pleasant. Each village looked like a postcard of exactly how the quintessential British village should look, and that’s a rare thing these days. All very nice, but where the hell was a McDonalds? I’m hungry.
My chosen route meant negotiating my way through Lincoln city centre, which wasn’t as bad as I’d expected – I collect from Lincoln regularly, but from the outside edge. I only ventured into town once, and that was because I missed a turn and got lost. It was at 3.30pm on a Friday afternoon, of course. I didn’t get out until Saturday teatime, and I’ve been wary of the place ever since. Once out and on familiar ground, it was the regular run up the 15 to Caenby Corner, where there is a good café with excellent HGV parking. That was lunch sorted, then. I got my pack up down my neck, then headed off to Scunthorpe. The direct route goes past the hugely impressive (but under threat) steelworks; however the road is awful - especially if you hit steelworks shift changeover time – oh, that is bliss!
On top of that, there are endless sets of islands and traffic lights, so I go the long way round and enter from the top – much easier and less congested. This route passes the most God-awful Tesco I have ever seen. Supermarkets usually try to blend into the surrounding scene inasmuch as they can, but at Scunthorpe, the senior management must have made their decision after a night of popping happy pills, drinking vodka and toilet duck slammers followed by Dulux matt emulsion chasers while listening to Urban Testicles & the Cheesy Wotsits.
The front of the building is clearly modelled on Terminal 5, with lots of glass and shiny steel pillars. Then the money ran out, so the sides and rear of the building were made up with parts from the Guantanamo Bay Rest Home For Retired Terrorists, now that Barack has decided to shut it down (and how long before Richard Branson buys it and does it up as a tourist resort? You’re laughing now, but watch this space).
This made the rear of the building look hideously ugly, but that wasn’t enough. Because it lies on the edge of the ring road, Tesco can be seen for hundreds of yards. So, they painted the monstrosity white, in order that it could be seen for miles, if not from another planet. Unfortunately, it is not ideally located for photography, and although I could have driven in to their loading bay with the lorry, explaining my load of second-hand cars would take some doing. Especially if I came clean and told them I wanted to park up so that I could photograph the store in order to give it a pasting on my blog. Clearly Tesco need some assistance in their architectural department, and I trust that my observations will provide them with some food for thought. It’s not much, admittedly, but every little helps.
By now the sun was out, and the A15 was remarkably quiet. Even Bourne wasn’t choked with parked delivery trucks making deliveries (inconsiderate lorry drivers, parking anywhere they feel like it, mutter, mutter, mutter …) Heading out of Bourne, I trundled through various villages that looked as though they came out of Country Life or possibly Heartbeat. Definitely not Eastenders, that’s for sure. Morton, Folkingham and Osbournby all stood out, with large ornamental gardens a blaze of colour and neatly trimmed flower beds and … er … stuff. I am to gardening what Fred Goodwin is to profitable and sustainable banking, so all I can say is that it all looked rather pleasant. Each village looked like a postcard of exactly how the quintessential British village should look, and that’s a rare thing these days. All very nice, but where the hell was a McDonalds? I’m hungry.
My chosen route meant negotiating my way through Lincoln city centre, which wasn’t as bad as I’d expected – I collect from Lincoln regularly, but from the outside edge. I only ventured into town once, and that was because I missed a turn and got lost. It was at 3.30pm on a Friday afternoon, of course. I didn’t get out until Saturday teatime, and I’ve been wary of the place ever since. Once out and on familiar ground, it was the regular run up the 15 to Caenby Corner, where there is a good café with excellent HGV parking. That was lunch sorted, then. I got my pack up down my neck, then headed off to Scunthorpe. The direct route goes past the hugely impressive (but under threat) steelworks; however the road is awful - especially if you hit steelworks shift changeover time – oh, that is bliss!
On top of that, there are endless sets of islands and traffic lights, so I go the long way round and enter from the top – much easier and less congested. This route passes the most God-awful Tesco I have ever seen. Supermarkets usually try to blend into the surrounding scene inasmuch as they can, but at Scunthorpe, the senior management must have made their decision after a night of popping happy pills, drinking vodka and toilet duck slammers followed by Dulux matt emulsion chasers while listening to Urban Testicles & the Cheesy Wotsits.
The front of the building is clearly modelled on Terminal 5, with lots of glass and shiny steel pillars. Then the money ran out, so the sides and rear of the building were made up with parts from the Guantanamo Bay Rest Home For Retired Terrorists, now that Barack has decided to shut it down (and how long before Richard Branson buys it and does it up as a tourist resort? You’re laughing now, but watch this space).
This made the rear of the building look hideously ugly, but that wasn’t enough. Because it lies on the edge of the ring road, Tesco can be seen for hundreds of yards. So, they painted the monstrosity white, in order that it could be seen for miles, if not from another planet. Unfortunately, it is not ideally located for photography, and although I could have driven in to their loading bay with the lorry, explaining my load of second-hand cars would take some doing. Especially if I came clean and told them I wanted to park up so that I could photograph the store in order to give it a pasting on my blog. Clearly Tesco need some assistance in their architectural department, and I trust that my observations will provide them with some food for thought. It’s not much, admittedly, but every little helps.
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