The Roadsign Problem

I was woken at 6.15 one morning by a hammering on my back door.

I quickly threw on some clothes and hurried downstairs, where Alun was pacing up and down in an agitated state.

“It’s the mainland council Jed,” he said, “they’ve passed a new law requiring all roadsigns to be bilingual, in mainland speak and Latin.”

“Latin?” I said surprised, “why would anyone want Latin roadsigns? The Romans left a thousand years ago.”

“It’s the new leader of the council Jed, he’s a posh boy from some public school. He wants to revive Latin as a language and believes that Latin roadsigns is the most effective way of doing it.”

Although our island doesn’t have any roads, by a quirk of history there is a roadsign, which is located on the top of Elephant Mountain. By a similar quirk of history, the roadsign was already quadlingual, in mainland speak, Spanish, Welsh and Ongota.

“Well there’s no room on the sign.”

“We’d better take a look Jed, there might be room in the bottom right corner. We could just squeeze some latin in.”

I was a pleasant day so I had no objection to a walk, even if it involved a steep climb up the hill we call a mountain. There were a couple of miniature elephants frolicking beside the sign when we reached the top of the hill, but these were easily distracted with a couple of lettuces we’d brought with us for exactly that purpose.

We both squinted at the sign.

“There’s no room Jed. The sign’s tiny.”

He was right. The sign was the minimum size legally acceptable under mainland council regulations and it was already full with the four languages in official usage on our island. As a result it could barely be read, even when standing right in front of it. As for adding Latin text to the sign, it would be impossible.

“It’s no use Jed, we’ll just have to buy a new sign.”

“Buy a new sign! But where on earth will we find the money?” I’m a writer of New York murder mysteries but at the time I was between royalty cheques. Alun is the island’s doctor, but as I was his only patient he too was lacking any substantial income, which meant we had no funds available for unexpected costs such as new roadsigns.

“We’ll just have to make money where we can Jed. The law’s the law, it has to be obeyed, even if no-one from the council ever climbs up this mountain to check.”

“We could just take the roadsign down,” I suggested, “I mean it’s not as if there’s any road and up here at the top of a hill we call a mountain it’s of no use to anyone.”

“You’re forgetting the importance of tradition Jed. This sign was here before you were born, before the elephants came. It’s part of our history Jed.”

And so we set about raising funds. I took some of my geep cheese to sell on Market Island, gave a reading and book signing on Novel Island and Alun did his annual tour of the archipelago giving health checks at £10 a time.

We soon had more than enough money for a new roadsign and with our small fortune we made our way to Roadsign Island, where we commissioned a new sign. We then travelled to Graphics Island where we commissioned the sign to be written in the island’s four official languages plus Latin. The lettering was big, bright and red and could be seen from quite a distance, a vast improvement on the previous sign. We deliberately left room for at least two additional languages to be added.

Later that night we climbed to the top of the hill we call Elephant Mountain and attached the new sign to the old signpost.

We stood back to admire it, taking care not to trip over any miniature elephants in the darkness. Even in the faintest shimmering of moonlight it looked a splendid sign.

I slept splendidly that night, secure in the knowledge that the island was now 100% complicit with the latest legislation.

However, at approximately 6.30 the next morning I was woken by a hammering on my back door.

“It’s the council Jed,” Alun shouted up the stairs as I got dressed, “there’s been a by-election. The old leader has been thrown out, The Other Party are in charge now. They’ve scrapped the Latin Roadsigns Bill.”

“That’s a pity,” I shouted down as I finished dressing and rushed downstairs,” we could have saved all that money if we’d known. I have to say, the Other Party sound somewhat more sensible than the Main Party, with their mad Latin schemes.”

“Not at all Jed, they’re just as bad. They’ve mad keen on being seen as a mainland with an international face. They’ve introduced an Esperanto Bill, every roadsign must be in mainland speak and Esparanto.”