Few people can have failed to notice the vast numbers of
jolly little signs that are multiplying all over the canal system these days.
(That's right, they're 'multiplication signs'!)
In the old days, canalside signs were a rarity: practically
all you got were a few 'no mooring' and 'no fishing' signs. The former can be
very useful, especially if - like some on the Thames - they are conveniently
placed in pairs approximately 70ft apart; the latter - I am assured - make
handy fishing rod-rests.
The only other signs commonly seen on the canals were the
large hoardings seen at intervals by the canal-bank - especially where it ran
alongside a main road or railway line - advertising to the passengers on the
08:45 to Euston that this was the Trent and Mersey Canal, that it was run by
British Waterways, and that you could phone them up in Leeds and talk to them
about it.
Very interesting, but their purpose was not entirely clear
at the time... Were they advertising to potential customers? "You don't have
to be stuck there at a red signal waiting for the express to clear the junction
- you could be going flat out at 4mph in a boat without signals, points or
crossings to slow you down!" (in which case better not tell them about
Harecastle.) Or "Hey you in there in the cab of that goods loco - don't you
realise all that coal in your wagons could be carried more efficiently in a
fleet of 15 pairs of working narrow boats?"
Alternatively, maybe they wanted to be sure everyone knew
whose canal it was, in case it got stolen? Then if anyone found it, they would
instantly think "Gosh - unless I'm very much mistaken, that's the Trent
& Mersey Canal stashed away in that field over there. I bet it's been
nicked! What shall I do? I know - I'll ring those nice guys in Leeds and tell
them I've found it. I'll bet there's a reward..."
Of course there were always those who would dampen such
speculation, coming up with prosaic suggestions such as that they were erected
by British Waterways to show people that all that money from taxpayers that
went into BW actually went to subsidise a real canal system, not simply to pay
the salaries of a few senior civil servants. (A slightly more interesting
variant of this theme was that the size of the signs was in proportion to the
size of the subsidy divided by the size of the maintenance backlog, multiplied
by the usual Treasury fiddle-factor.)
However, thanks to the 50-year rule on disclosure of
confidential government records (and also thanks to the continued employment of
my old mate Harry Washerjosher's boats on the lucrative Westminster to
Crumpsall waste-paper contract), the truth can now be told. At the time of
nationalisation in 1948, the government's forward-thinking attitude to its new
assets (summed up at the time in the immortal words "Canals? Oh, do we get
them too?") involved a total audit of everything spent on them, with a view
to running them more efficiently. Every aspect was dealt with - how to avoid
bank erosion (answer: discourage commercial traffic), how to reduce maintenance
costs (answer: close the canals), how to maximise income (answer: fill them in
and sell the land) and so on. Everything had a fixed budget, be it large (like
the dredging crews' tea supplies) or small (like the dredging crews' fuel
supplies). And that included the budget for canalside signs.
Perhaps strangely, the Signs Budget was not given in pounds,
shillings and pence. Maybe prices were already starting to rise steeply, and
the civil servants wanted something more inflation-proof. But for whatever
reason, they fixed a figure for the total area of all the canalside signs,
added up over the entire canal system. They added up the mileage of
nationalised waterways (rather over 2000), worked out how many signs were
needed per mile (about 20 for narrow canals but double that for broad ones;
sadly history does not record the reason for this curious distinction),
multiplied it by the area of a typical sign (about three square feet) and came
out with a total - 4.739 acres to be precise. One could simply multiply this
figure by the current price of whatever sheet metal or timber was used for
signs - in pounds per acre - then by the proportion of signs that came up for
renewal every year, and - bingo - an annual Signs Budget!
This 4.739 acres of signs was a perfectly correct figure,
given the size of the network at the time. But despite the best efforts of the
early IWA, a number of canals closed in the first 20 years of nationalisation -
for example the Barnsley, the Dearne & Dove, the Forth & Clyde and many
miles of the BCN. As these closures reduced the size of the network, the signs
had to get bigger and bigger to keep the total area static at 4.739 acres, and
avoid a breach of the government regulations - which would at the very least
have jeopardised the BW chairman's chances for a knighthood when he retired.
(That's how keen they were on avoiding breaches in those days.) Hence those
enormous signs we remember seeing from train windows in the 1960s and 70s.
But once the closures ended, there was no need for further
enlargement of the signs. In fact a few canal reopenings meant the total was in
danger of exceeding the 4.739 acres. Some of the large signs were therefore
taken down; this is why they are less commonly seen today. All was well until a
few years ago, when metrication reared its ugly 200mm by 150mm head...
As I have mentioned in a previous article, BW have been
keenly demonstrating how committed to our heritage they are by abandoning
traditional imperial measurements in favour of the metric system, well before
either the roads or the railways have shown any interest in such new-fangled
foreign ideas.
As far as signs are concerned, this metrication has shown
itself in two ways. The first is that various signs have been converted to
metres: for example the tunnel length signs and the distances shown on 'public
footpath' signs on the towpath. And who can forget those remarkable speed limit
signs that give the 4mph limit converted to EU cubits per metric second, given
to three places of decimals?
The second aspect is much less well-known, but no less
important. As part of the metrication process, the 4.739 acres of signs had of
course to be converted. In this case, the appropriate unit is the Hectare, and
4.739 acres equals 1.919295 hectares. As most waterways staff hadn't a clue
what a hectare was (they thought it was the name of a dog in a 1960s children's
TV series) they gave it to the office boy to do. And being slightly dim, when
asked to convert the 4.739 acres into hectares he simply rearranged the letters
in "the 4.739 acres" and came up with "4.739 hectares". Nobody spotted the
error until it was enshrined in the Waterways Bill, the Maastricht treaty and
the Five-Year Plan for reducing the BW maintenance backlog.
By then it was far too late, and BW were legally committed
to increasing the total signage on the canals by a factor of 2.471. (And this
time it wouldn't just be the Chairman's knighthood that was on the line, it
might mean his company barge, his personal fishing reservoir and his executive
suite in a converted warehouse on the newly-acquired London Docklands
waterways.)
To more than double the signs on the canal system was a
mighty challenge even for BW, but they rose heroically to it. First they set
about replacing the silly little signs at all the locks with great big ones
with a huge BW logo at the top. Then they equipped their newly-acquired
Docklands waterways with a full set.
The 'Sign Addition Squad' (or SAS) was established as a 'hit
squad' of highly trained personnel, specially selected from among BW's finest.
Working under cover of darkness, they would descend nightly on likely locations
with vanloads of signs. By morning, there would be no sign of the men in green
overalls and balaclavas, but the 'signs' of their activities would be visible
everywhere. It is said that in a single night-time raid, 138 new signs were
installed within a mile of Braunston Turn. The prohibitions proliferated: "No
mooring" and "No Fishing" were joined by "No Swimming", "No Drowning", "No
Drinking" and "No chance of BW ever admitting they've been wrong". The
information increased: not only did every lock have its own sign proudly
announcing its name (and BW's name), but so did every gate and every paddle.
The opportunity for installing signs on every one of them was probably the
single deciding factor that saved the GU side-ponds from elimination. The
warnings worsened: "Danger, deep mud" was joined by "Danger, narrow towpath",
"Danger, low bridge", "Danger, long tunnel" and "Danger, low budget". The
hazards of trying to walk on water were identified, as were those of mooring in
tunnels, jumping off aqueducts, fishing in dry-docks and overtaking in locks.
The 'tunnel safety' signs on Fenny Compton Tunnel, the 'Lock safety' notices on
the Ashby, the 'No cycling' notices inside Blisworth Tunnel and the 'Keep
Right' notice on Pontcysyllte aqueduct showed how desperate the situation had
become. IWA Restoration Committee were asked for their advice on the
possibility of a timber-sided lock chamber being constructed entirely from
signs. And on the subject of restoration, BW's apparent determination to claim
all the credit for canal restoration work appears to be mainly driven by their
desire to install more signs proclaiming this...
But still it wasn't enough. The only way to solve the
problem seemed to be to acquire more waterways. An attempt to influence Neil
Edwards into making sure the BW canals came top in the IWAAC canal restoration
Prioritisation scheme failed: not that he was incorruptible, but WRG had
out-bid them - and WRG's bribes came in fermented malt beverage form.
The government proved themselves more amenable: a quiet word
in the appropriate ear ensured that the Rochdale funding would once again be
thrown into jeopardy - and this time the only way out would involve BW taking
it over.
But the failure to snatch control of the Nene and Great Ouse
from the EA - which would surely have brought the target of 4.739 hectares of
signs within easy reach - meant that desperate measures were called for. And
just in time, they hit upon the simple but brilliant idea of installing a whole
set of warning signs for anglers wherever an overhead power line crosses or
comes anywhere near a canal. No matter if it was much too far away for any
angler's line to reach (and we all know what anglers are like for
exaggerating); no matter if there weren't any anglers, any fish or even any
water. At least three big chunky wooden signposts for every power line; more if
they could get away with it. At last the target was within sight.
And now - thanks to one of those 'Partnerships' that
everyone was talking about at the launch of the 'Future of British Waterways'
plans earlier this year - that target of 4.739 hectares of signs on the canals
will soon be reached. Details have yet to be announced, but the partners appear
to be British Waterways, the Forestry Commission, the United Electric Cable
Company, the Campaign against Angling, the Balfour Beattie Railway
Electrification Projects team, Contract Sign Services Ltd. and the Electric
Boats Association...
And there I must leave you - somebody seems to be untying
my boat. They appear to be trying to install some "British Waterways: official
mooring ring", "Warning - towpath edge" and "Danger: Water - Do Not Fall In"
signs.
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