Peninsulas

On my day off I went down to Leicester, which is a good four hundred mile round trip. Going down the motorway during the rush hour in the morning makes me realise just how lucky we are in this relatively quiet neck of the woods. How some folk must hate it when they have to commute in and out of some of the bigger city's twice a day, it must be pure torture. Driving through Manchester city centre a week or two back in the pouring rain and big queues at the bus stops were getting drenched, they could see the bus a few hundred yards away but it would take another fifteen minutes before it reached them, poor blighter's! Later coming back up the M6 when it was dark I couldn't help but notice that once you get past Preston coming north all of a sudden there's no more lights on the motorway. Are our northern councils too slow to pay the electricity bills, or do they think we have better eyesight. Surely we pay just the same road and fuel taxes up in the sticks, so why are we left in the dark. And since when did we become the Lake District Peninsulas? nobody asked me if I wanted to live in this spin doctors name for Furness but apparently that's were we are now all living, according to the fancy signs at the A590 turnoff.