OX-TAIL¹ : Part 1

A true story of one man's heroic quest to find his soul through chickens, goats and renewable, urban, modern, sustainable transport policies.

Long ago, in the secret heart of England, holy monks settled in marshland scored by myriad rivers and streams, hard by a place where oxen might cross the waters in safety. They built Rewley Abbey, a scholarium, placed advertisements on the front page bottom right hand corner of national newspapers - Improve Your Memory, Speed Reading in Fifteen Minutes, Speak any Language of Your Choice in Just Ten Minutes a Day, and, How to Run the Country - and went into the education business. Safe from warriors and landlords in their damp fastness, the monks prospered and a city grew up around the Abbey. The city was called Ox-Ford.

One thousand one hundred and fifty-five years later, the City of Oxford appointed an eager, young applicant with an engineering degree from Aston University and a Ph.D. in Town Planning from Reading Polytechnic, one Horace Yasucovitch Michael Ivanski Emmanuel Silverstsone, or Hymies for short, as the City's traffic engineer. Hymies was happy and the City was pleased.

But, as one peerless Hilary term drew to a close, the responsibilities of the job started to take their toll and so Hymies sought guidance from his Rabbi, Ibn Ben Noyberger, a man of deep wisdom with snow white beard; who having coincidentally just returned on the Queen Mary after flying out on a jet aeroplane called a Comet to stay with his wife's sister's second cousin in Poughkeepsie, New York, had quietly learned much about transport.

"O Rabbi (Hymies used the Roman form of address as Oxford always requires), O Rabbi, to coin a phrase (which indeed he was, decades ahead of his time), I'm suffering from work related stress disorder" he shuddered; and the Rabbi could see from his pale and sweating countenance and the dark shadows under Hymies's eyes that this was indubitably so. He nodded, not unkindly, for Hymies to continue his story.

"The City is torn between 'Town', the traders, shopkeepers and citizens; and 'Gown', the dons, the colleges and the students. In years gone by, they fought and killed each other ...." the Rabbi knew this to be true".... and they still seem to be at war. - So I can never please both sides" sighed Hymies heavily.

"I plan the transport to the best of my ability. I work hard. I try to do the best for everyone; but they complain all the time. All the time. It is killing me Rabbi. What should I do?"

"Tell me how it is with the transport now" suggested the Rabbi; for he wanted more time to examine the soul of this honest, hardworking, God fearing member of his congregation - to decide the best for his eternal development.

Hymies was eager to unburden himself "Many of those from the University cycle everywhere. There are bicycles of every shape, size and colour, ridden by young, old, middle-aged, men, women, youths, ladies, fat, thin and some who are ..... just right" he added meditatively. The Rabbi chussed him along; reminding him of his lovely wife and young children. Hymies shook himself and resumed. "The streets are full of bicycles, mostly university people. The citizens, mostly they walk. They complain they must walk. They come to shop at the covered market, they buy bags of food - and then walk to the bus stops. They say the bus stops are too far. Everywhere they walk they bump into bicycles. And they complain. Mostly to the Lord Mayor - Good John, the People's Friend. Then Good John shouts at me to get the University bums out of the sodding way (sorry Rabbi) of his upright and right-voting citizens."

"In turn," Hymies rushed on wildly, "everywhere the bicyclists go, they are hampered by overburned pedestrians, blocking their way. The cyclists complain all the time too. They write sarcastic letters to the Oxford Times. They write witty, humorous, mocking letters to the Guardian, the Observer and the Telegraph - which get published and poke fun at Good John. They attend our public planning meetings which I Chair, and confuse me by quoting archane laws in Middle English, Latin and Greek. Worst of all...." breathed Hymies, "....they write powerful letters to politicians - including the Prime Minister - in fact .... " Hymies's voice rose hysterically, too upset to notice the Rabbi rocking slowly, his piercing gaze rapt on Hymies's hidden soul "............in fact, ...in fact .. one of the cyclists IS the Prime sodding Minister" he yelled. Then got control of himself and started to calm down.

"But whoever they are. They complain. There's a particular young lady student who complains more loudly and arrogantly and effectively than the rest put together". He ruminated darkly " Her name's Margaret something or other .... and she needs watching that one. God help the country if she ever goes into politics. But they all complain. And I get it in the neck. Then there are the conspicuously wealthy in their new motor cars, Morris Oxfords, Austin Sheerlines, Morris 1000's and the odd Rolls Royce which have to thread their way through the cyclists and the pedestrians and the buses, of course. They complain - and come the St. Giles Fair which blocks off half the main roads, they all complain all the more. The pedestrians complain about the cyclists and car drivers and complain they should have cars. The cyclists complain about the pedestrians and the cars and complain they should have cycle lanes. The drivers complain about the pedestrians, the cyclists, the buses, the road markings and the weather. It's Hell out there Rabbi - its just sheer Hell. Hell for me, hell for all the road users, hell for the residents, hell for the shopkeepers. Just Hell, Hell Hell." Hymies nearly broke down - but didn't quite cry - not yet awhile.

"Hymies, Hymies" comforted the Rabbi, "don't distress yourself. There is an answer. But first we should speak of metaphysics. This is a most important situation with wide, wide ramifications." the Rabbi paused and almost frowned, then he continued. "We are here dealing with a university town. University, smooniversity, schooniveristy" he murmured, pleased to make rhymes which only he knew were valid or nonsense and which nobody ever had the temerity to question. "University" he suddenly said strongly "comes from universe. Universe is the whole of creation. We are dealing here, Hymies, with the whole of creation. Did you know that?"

Hymies hadn't known that and stayed silent.

"Universe means one-turn, Hymies. Did you know that. The whole of creation arose out of one-turn. Of what, Hymies. What do you think turned. It was what we choose to call God, Hymies. It was God who turned. Before the beginning of time. In the era when there was no-thing, there was also no resistance, no impedance. The energy that was God flowed, from nowhere to nowhere, in no-time and there was no-thing. How does that feel to you, Hymies - stop for a moment and feel how that feels. Flowing along, anywhere you please, free, infinitely powerful, with infinite potential and unimpeded. It feels blissful, Hymies. It is what we call bliss. This is what all road users seek - unimpeded bliss. And bliss is not all that it's cracked up to be. So the energy created a resistance, it impeded it's own progress, Hymies. It made one turn, back on itself. And where it met its own infinite energy, a whirlpool arose and everything within the whirlpool began to spin. And each spinning zone was matter. And the Universe emerged and there was no longer no-thing. Your problem Hymies, is of infinite importance and is taking place here in this special place, in this university town for cosmic purposes".

Hymies found no response to his sudden importance in logological affairs. A wiser man would have enquired further. Hymies put his metaphorical and metaphysical head in the sand and said nothing.

The Rabbi stopped rocking. "What you must do Hymies is this."

Hymies pushed his lower jaw back up to meet his upper jaw and listened attentively. He started taking notes.

"You must work even harder and ensure that the Oxford car factory builds more and more cars and cars that will last forever. This will not be easy - but you will do it. Then every citizen will have their own car. Believe me Hymies, this will happen. So you must start now to build a huge multi-storey car park in the centre of Ox-ford and all the citizens of the new car owning democracy will come in their thousands to enjoy the pleasures and sights of Oxford. Marginalise the bicycles. If they are stolen - ask the Police not to look for them. If their front wheels are buckled by cars - sue the cyclists for damaging the car's tyres. Herd the pedestrians onto narrow pavements, harried and oppressed by the motor cars. If they step off the pavements, arrest them for jay-walking. If they don't step off the pavements, accuse them of obstruction. This is what you must do. Now get on with it and come and see me in ten years time."

Hymies never questioned the wisdom of what his Rabbi told him to do. He left with a new certainty and confidence in his step, to follow the Rabbi's advice.

End of Part 1

¹ Copyright. Noel Hodson, SW2000, Oxford, Jan 1996. Received on 15 February 1995. For those perhaps not familiar with some of the sundry cultures involved, Mr. H has submitted a second (goyischa) version which carries on about Jack the Traffic Engineer and his widowed English mother. While it is the reader's choice, the Warden has provisionally ruled that this will be considered as a single prize competition candidate (over heated protests).

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