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A Metaphor of Our Age?

Posted: Mon 27 Sep 2021, 18:37
by Mike Farley
My local filling station has fuel. For the moment, at least. How long supplies can hold out given the demand is moot. Queues in both directions of which I was unable to determine the length. Maybe I should have taken a telephoto lens with me? All with their engines running, of course.

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I had a delivery today and the driver said he had been extensively held up trying to get past the blockages caused by those waiting to fill up. He missed the delivery slot by three hours, although that particular courier company struggles to meet its deadlines even when traffic is normal. Progress around London has just become even slower.

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Re: A Metaphor of Our Age?

Posted: Tue 28 Sep 2021, 15:44
by Mike Farley
The same filling station on the following day, showing the inevitable consequence of the queues from the evening before. The fuel tanker caused some people's hopes to be raised but anyone waiting was turned away.

It is tempting to think that going electric is the answer but that would incorporate a delay of around an hour into every long trip to continue the next phase of the journey. In the meantime, I am keeping my fingers crossed that the situation will ease before I too have to join one of the queues.

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Re: A Metaphor of Our Age?

Posted: Sat 02 Oct 2021, 10:41
by davidb
I've been seeing the same thing from my flat. I live opposite Tesco's in Shirley Road and constantly see the queues coming (after a delivery!) and going (after depletion of the last delivery). And it's not a quite queue; some idiots think that pressing on their horn makes the queue move faster! Doh!!!

Re: A Metaphor of Our Age?

Posted: Sat 02 Oct 2021, 15:15
by Mike Farley
davidb wrote:...... some idiots think that pressing on their horn makes the queue move faster! Doh!!!

I sympathise. There was not a significant problem until people decided that they needed to refuel before they would normally do so.

During a trip yesterday, I went past five petrol stations only one of which was open. I knew around half a mile away when the traffic split into two. Those continuing with their journey and those joining the end of the queue. The first filling station I encountered is close to my opticans where I had been the previous day and it had been closed then as well. Presumably they had not received a delivery during the interim. I asked the person serving me if he knew when the petrol station was open. He described a journey he had made when he had a doctor's appointment and the circuitous route he had been forced to take on his return.