On the way back from Latitude in July I had got caught doing 35 miles an hour in a 30 mile an hour zone - I hadn't even spotted the camera, or indeed the reduced speed limit. Even though these were my first points for three years (I've been done three times before and for a brief time had a scary nine points on my licence) I was delighted that I was offered the chance to attend a speed awareness course instead of getting punished. To be honest I also thought it might be quite a funny thing to attend and I might make my £61.50 (plus £40 travel) back by writing about it. I don't think I realised when I booked the course that it would be on the same week as an AIOTM (AIOTM) but was hoping this would be a fortuitous coincidence. At the worst I would waste a day, get a bit bored and sit it out and save myself 3 points - as long as I resisted the temptation to take the piss on the course and get kicked out. I decided to go on the train, to avoid being late (it would have been a tough drive through rush hour traffic to get there) and to avoid picking up more points, which would rather negate the point of going all that way
The last time I had been in Ipswich (the week before Latitude coincidentally)
I was violently sick, which may or may not have been Ipswich's fault, but it was also the last time I had an alcoholic drink (an amazing 95 days ago). It felt a little unsettling to be back and the part of me that craves symmetry wanted me to have my first drink here again. Maybe going to Ipswich could be the alcoholic equivalent of how being hit on the head gives you amnesia and another hit on the head cures you.
I got a cab from the station, showing the cab driver my letter, allowing him to start up a conversation about speed cameras. Had I shown him this because it was the easiest way to let him know the complicated address or because I was slightly thrilled by my outlaw status. I think a combination of both. The cab driver had a sign up saying that anyone soiling the cab would be charged a fee. About ten minutes into the journey the car filled with a very unpleasant smell. The driver had clearly farted and yet even though he had soiled my nostrils he did not offer me a discount. One law for them and another for us.
The course was out in a unit on an industrial estate about three and a half miles from Ipswich town centre and I was there a bit early and the morning course was still going on. I ate my lunch and then waited as gradually my fellow criminals drifted in. The first was a grandmother in her 70s, who was expressing her disbelief that she had been caught speeding, but also her relief that on revealing this to her family she discovered that many of them had points on their licence too. Speeding is clearly a secret shame. And in fact as sheepish looking people drifted in I was initially reminded of my occasional visits (for research purposes obviously) to sexual health clinics. Everyone had done something wrong and were slightly ashamed. But then I quickly realised it was different, because in the clap clinic no one speaks to each other, but here everyone was not only keen to share stories, but again slightly proud of having broken the law. You'd think the people in a VD clinic would be more proud, because they could brag to everyone that they had had sex, whereas all the people here had just been driving slightly over the speed limit (you can't do the course if you are more than 10 miles an hour over the limit). As crimes go it's a little bit pathetic, the kind of thing a grandma could do.
Eventually the course got underway with an early admission from the man guiding us through the next four hours that every in the room was only here because they wanted to avoid points on their licence. It must be quite a dispiriting job in many ways for him, but he seemed quite jolly about it all, although overall it felt to me more like a punishment than an education. I am not sure it had to last so long and it was hard to stay engaged, but there were some useful titbits in there, but I rarely got beyond the wish that it would be over so the points could be off my licence. It was useful to find out how you can tell the speed limit of any road you're on and instructive to discover that the four or five miles an hour over the limit that I was going would raise my chances of killing a pedestrian from 20% to 50%. Plus we were surprised to be told that proportionately only about 5% of accidents happen on motorways with a similar percentage of deaths. The man blamed the media for reporting the motorway accidents, though it didn't stop him, later on, showing us a video about the 1991 M4 pile up involving 50 or 60 vehicles in the fog. There was a grim animated recreation of the accident with endless vehicle after vehicle smashing into each other. Though much of this was down to people driving too fast and too close for the conditions, it had all been caused by a van driver (probably) falling asleep and so it seemed a bit of a sensationalist video to show. Almost like they just thought it was quite cool.
Nothing massively amusing happened alas and I kept my head down, though towards the end it became annoying that people were prolonging the whole thing by asking questions. Even the man taking the course clearly wanted it to be over. We were all just marking off time and points, though overall I think the exercise might be effective at least in the short term. But the fact that even after it had been banged on about several times that people kept on not understanding that the speed limit on rural single carriage roads is 60 miles an hour suggests that maybe we weren't all learning. And if anything that's going to just mean people drive faster than they did before they learned this info.
In the break the two youngest drivers started chatting away to each other and I wondered if they might hook up and love might blossom here on this industrial estate in Ipswich. If they did and went on to have a child then that person would owe their life to speeding, which was a neat little irony. Speeding creates lives. But afterwards everyone drifted off in separate directions so that child or children remain unborn, cruelly denied the chance to live and then speed themselves.
Perhaps a sitcom or a play could come out of such a situation, but there weren't too many laughs to be had and I am not convinced I will recoup my £100 outlay and the loss of a day, but I am still glad that I don't have the points and through tweeting about it all I was offered a free subscription to a speedcamera database by the good people
at pocketgpsworld.com, so it's not all bad. Yeah, Lily Allen might get free meals and watches and stuff via Twitter, but has she had a speed camera database given to her? Ah, the benefits of minor celebrity. I also got some Vocalzone sore throat tablets that time. It all adds up.
I walked back from the outskirts of Ipswich, confirming my suspicions that Ipswich is quite a grim place and getting some exercise in too. After a long wait for the train I had booked on line (I had somehow contrived to book one that I had to change on too, because I am a twart), I got on it just as Richard Herring's Objective began, following reaction on Twitter. Most people seemed to like it though one woman told me I was ignorant and offensive and should study Modern History. I told her that I had done so and asked her what had upset her particularly, as I thought the show was generally quite positive and anti-fascist, but alas she wouldn't tell me. Perhaps she was a supporter of Hitler, but more likely and I am forced to guess, just someone who felt that this was not a subject to do comedy about. I tried to find out, but she was not willing to explain what her problem was so I had to leave it in the end. I am sure there will be a few such reactions for this series, but we will see. If you missed it,
have a listen on iPlayer.
Free speedcamera database and back on the radio. Slowly and steadily it's all happening for me, right?
