I'm finally going potty

I have rejected the idea of becoming a fully paid-up member of the Community Speedwatch Brigade, despite the obvious draw of a free reflective jacket.

I am now set on a mission to become……Pothole Man.

I’ve been moaning, which is so unlike me, about the state of the road near our house for ages.

There are so many potholes that I’m surprised that those nice people from Top Gear haven’t been in touch with the Parish Council to see if they can use The Street (yep, that’s our imaginatively named road) for their  Star in a Reasonably Priced Car feature.

The Street would certainly present more of a challenge to drivers than the track they use in deepest Surrey.

Would you like to see my collection of pothole photos?

Anyway, I digress. Although I have a degree in moaning about the potholes, I’ve never actually done anything about them i.e. let the Highways Agency, via the county council, know about them. 

But not any longer. Pothole Man had been born.

Coming home from seeing Mil and Fil (mother-in-law and father-in-law) at the weekend, we hit a pothole – and ten metres later it became apparent a puncture had resulted. All was resolved in surprisingly quick time by the AA and 12 hours later I had ventured into the local town to purchase a shiny new tyre.

I am in the process of trying to get the costs we incurred back from the county council. This has been made slightly easier by the fact that the pothole in question had been reported to the council three days earlier.

For the council’s website has a snazzy colour-coded pothole reporting feature that highlights those it has been informed about (including when and the severity of the named pothole) those on a list ready to be repaired and those repaired recently.

I decided to check The Street – and not a single indentation is listed.

So, have camera, have ruler and, most importantly as I don’t get out much, have time.

It’s not going to be pretty.