Map Geek

I love looking at maps - any maps. Maps of the world, railway routes, London Underground, Ordnance Survey, local street plans and even online maps. I love to see the details - where the road used to go before they built a by-pass, spotting the disused railway, finding the short-cuts.

Another (slightly weird) thing I find myself doing with a road atlas in my hand is working out where roads begin and end. It raises some intriguing questions (if you're a map geek):

• Why does the A52 go from Newcastle-under-Lyme to Mablethorpe? Why not Skegness, or Boston (Lincs.)?
  
• Why does the A46 go from Cleethorpes to somewhere East of Bath, and why does it have big chunks missing?
• Why doesn't the A6 go to London anymore? Luton to Carlisle? I feel like it has featured in a lot of my life - trips to the Peak District, going to a pub in Shardlow, CYFA Ventures in Bedford, and my kids' primary school opened straight out onto... the A6. It's become important to me.
  
• and still no M7 (I know - the route from Carlisle to Edinburgh via Hawick didn't need a motorway, although it does need a railway)

Now where did I put that 1:25000?

Bits 'n' Pieces

No, not another excursion into 60s music - I'll leave it there with Arthur Brown. Just that I don't have any deep and meaningful paragraphs to write - too busy with a dissertation to write (15,000 words. about 6,000 in the machine!). However felt the need to provide a brief update on previous entries.

The entertainment posters on the A6 are displaying the local entertainment fare again. This time it's a 'Glenn Miller Sound' orchestra, Country legends (i.e hairy blokes in jeans you've never heard of), something non-memorable, and a band called Talon, who sound like they should be a thrash metal outfit, but are in fact an Eagles tribute band. Take it Easy, fellas.

The garden birdlife has taken on a new a noisy feature - blue tits are nesting just under the eaves of our house. Mum and dad can be seeing ferrying food in and out of an unbelievably small hole in the woodwork under a tile. Each time they do, a chorus of cheeping starts. Just like human families, then?