Give me shelter. Not.
Martin Doyle
IF it’s not one thing, it’s another.
No matter how much you think you’ve got life sorted out, you always end up getting bitten by something you hadn’t even thought of. Only a week ago I was marvelling at the new bus shelter in our street. If the Art World had a ‘dark side’, then this shelter would be regarded as one of the world’s most priceless pieces of modern art. It stands on an exposed, windswept spot in a remote piece of suburbia. It is box-shaped with steel walls on three sides. “Well, at least it’ll protect you from the wind,” you’re probably thinking. Well, no, because the designer has raised the walls a foot off the concrete so that wind sweeps in at ankle-level. Even so, people inside the bus shelter could escape this draught by standing on the seats, or sitting with their legs held high off the ground [you’d imagine]. However, only some can do this: the shelter comes with only half a bench inside, so that only two people can sit on the bench while all others crowd in on foot.
But there’s more ... The walls are mass-perforated with inch-wide holes, so that the shelter looks like a Cubist colander or a crayfish net of some kind. What this means is that whether you are standing in the corner of the shelter, or crouched on your haunches on the seat to protect your ankles, the wind still drives through, funnels through, at you by means of the 200 icy portholes. And when it’s raining, this bus shelter operates like a human car-wash. It’s a wonder they don’t just have done with it and supply soap as well.
Viewed as a work of dark genius, its crowning achievement is its colour selection. It is utterly black. And, as a ratepayer, it means you can enjoy being exposed, frozen, windswept, rain-pelted and chromatically depressed FOR FREE!! Oh, yes, thank you, thank you, whoever came up with this.
But I always try to look on the bright side of things. I remember that for a couple of months after they knocked down the old wooden one, there was just a concrete slab there, and sometimes, like sheep, we’d just stand on the slab. The new shelter is better than the slab.
And just last week, while out for a stroll, I commented to my companion, “It’ll be summer soon and those holes will probably be good on a hot day.” Famous last words. On Monday, there was snow everywhere. Snow??!! The car had turned into an igloo on wheels. Icicles hung from my nose. Bus time.
Two of us picked our way down the footpath over the black ice, very carefully as if we were in stilettos, and holding arms in case one of us slipped over. We found that none of the people at the bus stop were in the shelter. Like true Wellingtonians, they just wanted to survive.
No matter how much you think you’ve got life sorted out, you always end up getting bitten by something you hadn’t even thought of. Only a week ago I was marvelling at the new bus shelter in our street. If the Art World had a ‘dark side’, then this shelter would be regarded as one of the world’s most priceless pieces of modern art. It stands on an exposed, windswept spot in a remote piece of suburbia. It is box-shaped with steel walls on three sides. “Well, at least it’ll protect you from the wind,” you’re probably thinking. Well, no, because the designer has raised the walls a foot off the concrete so that wind sweeps in at ankle-level. Even so, people inside the bus shelter could escape this draught by standing on the seats, or sitting with their legs held high off the ground [you’d imagine]. However, only some can do this: the shelter comes with only half a bench inside, so that only two people can sit on the bench while all others crowd in on foot.
But there’s more ... The walls are mass-perforated with inch-wide holes, so that the shelter looks like a Cubist colander or a crayfish net of some kind. What this means is that whether you are standing in the corner of the shelter, or crouched on your haunches on the seat to protect your ankles, the wind still drives through, funnels through, at you by means of the 200 icy portholes. And when it’s raining, this bus shelter operates like a human car-wash. It’s a wonder they don’t just have done with it and supply soap as well.
Viewed as a work of dark genius, its crowning achievement is its colour selection. It is utterly black. And, as a ratepayer, it means you can enjoy being exposed, frozen, windswept, rain-pelted and chromatically depressed FOR FREE!! Oh, yes, thank you, thank you, whoever came up with this.
But I always try to look on the bright side of things. I remember that for a couple of months after they knocked down the old wooden one, there was just a concrete slab there, and sometimes, like sheep, we’d just stand on the slab. The new shelter is better than the slab.
And just last week, while out for a stroll, I commented to my companion, “It’ll be summer soon and those holes will probably be good on a hot day.” Famous last words. On Monday, there was snow everywhere. Snow??!! The car had turned into an igloo on wheels. Icicles hung from my nose. Bus time.
Two of us picked our way down the footpath over the black ice, very carefully as if we were in stilettos, and holding arms in case one of us slipped over. We found that none of the people at the bus stop were in the shelter. Like true Wellingtonians, they just wanted to survive.
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