Frank reported a pothole for six months. Nothing happened.
Then he put a small sign beside it: COUNCILLOR BELL LAKE.
The council filled the hole the next morning and told Frank to remove the sign.
Frank thanked them and asked the woman on the phone one more question….
The pothole outside Frank’s house had survived winter, spring and three council reference numbers.
Whenever a bus went through it, muddy water reached his gate. His wife, Mavis, had stopped putting hanging baskets there. The flowers got plenty of water, but she objected to the bus timetable deciding when.
Frank reported it online. The reply thanked him for bringing it to the council’s attention.
A month later, he sent a photograph with a ruler in it.
The next reply asked whether he could send a photograph without the ruler obscuring the damage.
He sent two.
Mavis asked whether the ruler was still there.
I brought it in.
Good. I thought they might repair the ruler.
In June, a councillor called Bell visited the street. He was having his picture taken beside a new flower bed.
Frank showed him the hole.
Mr Bell said he would look into it.
Mind your shoes, Frank said.
By July, the hole had grown. Frank stopped measuring it. He did not want the council to request a longer ruler.
One Saturday, he made a small wooden sign. He placed it on his own verge beside the puddle.
COUNCILLOR BELL LAKE.
Underneath, he wrote: PLEASE DO NOT FEED THE TRAFFIC.
Mavis read it from the window.
You’re going to get a phone call.
I’ve been trying to get one since January.
A neighbour photographed the sign. By lunchtime, people were stopping to photograph it too. Frank moved his car so they could get the lake’s best side.
The next morning, a repair crew arrived.
They put cones round the hole, drained it and filled it. Frank brought them tea. He did not ask them for a reference number.
At eleven, the council rang.
A woman said they understood he had placed an unofficial sign beside the road.
On my grass, Frank said.
It had attracted attention.
That’s what the ruler was meant to do.
She asked him to remove it now that the work was complete.
Frank said he would be delighted.
And please don’t name any more holes after members of the council, she added.
Frank looked along the street. There was one near the bus stop, two by the shop and three farther up the hill.
Six holes, he said.
Pardon?
I’ve got six more holes.
There was a short silence.
Frank took out his notebook.
Who else is on the council?
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