Road block

(Translations for our American readers supplied.)

The journey to work took a tad longer than usual. For reasons unknown, the police decided to block a road on my way to work. I usually take the green marked route on the diagram, off the motorway (interstate), onto the slip road (off-ramp), around the traffic island (?), under the motorway and onto work. An alternative route continues along the M45 motorway.

But... at the bottom of the slip road, there was a road block and all the traffic was being diverted along the road marked with a blue line. Into the town of Dunchurch (at the top left of the picture), driving along with all the traffic from the town, back onto the M45 and taking the alternative route.

40 minutes, driving in a big circle. It could all have been avoided if only someone had thought of putting a sign at the top of the sliproad, informing us all the road was out.

But still, I couldn't really bring myself to get angry. The evening before, I had heard that a friend-of-a-friend had killed himself. I don't know what drove him to it, but the end of a rope seemed a better prospect than continuing to live. Somehow, my petty annoyances about the lack of a sign became just that. Petty. I would arrive at work, I would continue to get paid, I would continue to have my home and my friends.

Count your blessings once in a while.