Fairgrounds, wind turbines and the Moscow State Circus on the M6 motorway.

Fairgrounds, wind turbines and the Moscow State Circus on the M6 motorway.

It was another Sunday on the M6, one of Britain's finest motorways. My wife and I were travelling back after meeting up with our son and his girl friend. It was a journey accompanied by the familiar British weather. There was torrential rain which sent our car into a frenzy, windscreen wipers frenetically smearing water from side to side before finally fizzling out when the rain stopped. Then within a matter of minutes the mood changed to one of jubilation as the British weather discovered that a few bursts of sunshine could give us an encouraging signpost to that first day of Spring.

The clouds had that look of the charcoal sketch which had illustrated early February. There were flecks of silvery grey that just remained exactly where they were for what seemed like the rest of the journey. It was hard to see what was going up there in the heavens but when the rains subsided half way down the motorway you could sense one or two signs of encouragement. It was when we got to Birmingham that the weather kindly obliged with some suggestive hints of sun followed by a ten minute sunlit upland and glimmers on a distant hill with what seemed like weak shadows of spring sunshine.

Anyway it's time to return to our journey back to London on the M6. The return visit from North West England was both eventful and quite ordinary. But I couldn't help but take note of the intriguing sights that caught my eye and things that otherwise we'd probably take for granted on a British motorway. As we hit the full stretch of the M6 we were surrounded and overwhelmed by a now traditional piece of road furniture. If you hadn't seen it once you'd have probably seen it a million times but to be honest it's beginning to look like one of those art installations you'd normally expect to find at the Tate Modern in London.

Yes folks. My wife and I had yet again entered one of the most sacred pieces of land in Britain. It should now be commonly known as Cone City. For what seemed like over hundreds of miles of  English motorways the roads are fully decorated with cones. Nothing but cones. Hundreds and thousands of cones. There are cones where there shouldn't be cones. There are endless rows of cones which seem to just sit by the side of the motorway as if they've just been introduced to each other with no hope and no future, solitary creatures who look absolutely devastated and wet. .

There are cones which by now should rightly be considered as endangered species, cones that seem to be multiplying and breeding and forming their own colonies. There are cone communities that probably have their own characteristics and mannerisms. There are even cones that seem to have inexplicable sandbags draped very languidly over them, exhausted looking and ready to put their heads down for the night.

But there they were red and white cones strung together like a pearl necklace uninterrupted and heartlessly exposed to the lashing rain that poured from the heavens like a crying angel. It occurrs to me that nobody seems to care about these poor old cones. Now they too they have been cold shouldered and banished to the margins by human society. This has to be the most humiliating snub since Brian Clough was overlooked as England manager.

Still life has to go on and those road cones brave all the elements and never complain so it probably says much for their hardiness and strength of character. Cones are indestructible and bolshy, stubborn and determined, cones with tremendous reserves of stamina and endurance. But mile after mile and county and county British cones restore your faith in human nature because nothing ever seems to get them down.

And so our journey continues without anything notably out of the ordinary- apart from the cones which, after a while became almost dizzyingly hynoptic and totally unremarkable. Day light is fading and the road ahead is almost boringly uniform with no variations on a theme. But there were the occasional curiosities and oddities that did capture my imagination. There were few sights that held my attention for any great length of time but I did notice the kind of things that on another day would have been regarded as perfectly normal. But there was something strange in the air, something wonderfully unusual.

You're not going to believe this. I did see it and it wasn't some surreal dream. I blinked once or twice and tried to convince myself. It was true, it was substantial, it was visible and it was happening. So here goes. Ladies and Gentlemen there was a fairground by the side of the motorway and no I wasn't imagining it. There was a genuine fairground by the side of the M6. Maybe I'll wake up and one day and pretend that I was just hallucinating but it was a fairground and what an exciting discovery it was.

Now let me hasten to add that it wasn't the kind of fairground you'd expect to find by the seaside but it was a fairground in its most original and impressive glory. Quite how it found its way to the side of an M6 motorway in England is quite beyond anybody's belief. There it stood brightly illuminated and presumably whirling, spinning, lights flashing, a kaleidoscope of colour that spun and whizzed around at frightening speed and remains one of the most bizarre sights you'll ever see on any British motorway.

My wife and I didn't stop to make a more thorough examination of  what can only be described as English eccentricity at its craziest.  Who on earth thought a fairground would enhance this idyllic piece of English landscape? If anything it almost looks as if it shouldn't really be there because somebody rightly or wrongly believed that if  you plonked a children's adventure playground next to a frantically busy motorway hundreds of tourists would flock to the fairground in record breaking droves. Sadly to a neutral outsider it looks completely out of character and just some amusing diversion that simply looks silly. Still maybe there are millions of children who have been nagging their parents over and over again to see the M6 motorway fairground.

So who would travel from any point of the world compass to see this wish fulfilment of a child's dream? How to explain the sheer irony of dodgem cars bumping and crashing into each other next to a real life motorway? What about those splendid ferris wheels slowly, steadily but surely soaring into the air and just yards away from speeding lorries on the M6? You couldn't make it up could you? The fact is though that a wonderfully enterprising piece of business has been done and it's certainly different. There had to be a gaping gap in the market and maybe that's what they mean by showing initiative.

 But my friends this is real life and it's a permanent fixture. A fairground is up and running, a viable and presumably profit making concern to amaze and astonish you. There's a stomach churning roller coaster, the coconut shy that everybody loves to knock down and that stall that guarantees you a gold fish if you can get three hoops over their respective hooks.

There was though one rather recurring and disturbing theme that kept cropping up. Wherever you looked there were  hundreds of trees which dominated the motorway scenery. But the trees looked almost bare, lifeless, broken and defeated. They seemed to be shivering and trembling in the gusty wind and rain, sadness and despondency on every branch and limb. Yet it was very distressing to watch and it was only now that I could rub my hands together with glee at the prospect of tomorrow's first day of Spring.

Shortly the gleaming green of Spring will revitalise these giant wonders of nature. At the moment they look desperately sorry for themselves and must feel very hurt and rejected. Soon though the leaves with clothe them in the ultimate act of redemption. Soon the M6 will forget all about those wretched cones and just concentrate on the business of looking healthier and brighter.

Oh before I go we did see something else that did made me privately chuckle. Why was the Moscow State  Circus on the M6 and why do you always see huge Eddie Stobart lorries on an English motorway? These are the pressing issues that need to be addressed and the nation should be deeply pre-occupied and concerned. Besides where was the Moscow State Circus going and why did they turn left at Northampton when they should have kept going until they saw signs leading to Luton?

And then my wife and I finally arrived back in London relieved that the M6 was now history. At times it makes you almost glad to be British. As we approached the end of journey we saw the most incredible sight. Great big  wind turbines which looked like aircraft propellors without a fuselage just kept lumbering awkwardly around in the air. Are these the most ugly blots on the English skyline or essential to the British environment? It has to be said that the M6 motorway once again excelled itself.  Both my wife and I couldn't keep our eyes off it. Are we there yet?