Man, as Aristotle had it, is a political animal, and naturally converges together – in villages, towns and cities. The urban high street, then, should presumably play host to the paradisiacal amalgamation of our fair species. Alas, no: the modern city centre is a hellish space that needs a stout frame and sturdy resolve to navigate without descending into the actions of a taxonomically-distant primate. So, lest we forget, here are some crucial rules to make our local high streets bearable:
- If you’re walking along a street and you find yourself flanked by one or more uncannily-similarly-paced fellow walkers, unwittingly channelling a low-budget (and woefully under-dressed) Reservoir Dogs vibe, do the honourable thing: walk as fast as possible to outpace them, without revealing that you’re putting in any additional effort (which would be frightfully rude). If you can’t shake them, introduce a fabricated bout of shoelace-tying, and mop that brow.
- There is no training available that will allow you to run the gauntlet of street-leafleters and ‘chuggers’ without approach and/or reproach. But long-suffering Machell has learned the best strategy of engagement. Simply say, “Yes of course: walk with me.” If they’ve still kept your interest and pace after a mile or three, offer up your details and payment with good grace and gratitude.
- If neither wasp nor curiously precise avian excrement has found its way into your throat, don’t spit on the street. This would cause shock even in the Last Days of Rome.
- Since our world is finite in its physical extent, and time a communal commodity, there always lurks the danger of re-meeting an acquaintance soon after the first brief encounter. Act accordingly: if you see the social hazard on the horizon, abandon all immediate plans. Spin on your heel and head in the opposite direction; you may add half-a-mile of distance or be quarter-of-an-hour late, but it really is better this way. The other person must pretend to notice the change of direction – and yet rejoice inwardly for such exemplary conduct.
- Machell’s otherwise pristine form does bear a single tattoo. It reads ‘Don’t cycle on the pavement’. And yet, notwithstanding his uncompromisingly illustrated body art, no-one else seems to care. Please care.
- Whatever you do, don’t make eye contact when faced with a truly explosive parent-child dispute: if possible, take down your desired ‘nature notes’ from a subtle corner. If confronted about your becoming unduly involved, do the obvious thing: collapse to the floor and play dead until the scene at last disperses.
- Be sure to observe the appropriate etiquette when enjoying a busker’s music. Sub-30-seconds: acceptable to slope off; sub-two-minutes, offer an acceptable gesture of support; any longer, you’ll probably need to found a record label and sign them. Be sure to double your donation if eye contact was made or foot-tap spotted; if, by contrast, the enjoyment was entirely limited to children in your company, it may be halved on the legitimate grounds that their ears are half the size.
- If lost in the infinitely engaging process of stroking, swiping and tickling your smartphone screen, be prepared for the ineluctable consequences. Other people will soon walk into you as calculated ‘accidents’: be aware that the onus to apologise is on you. Councils are introducing street signage at such an alarming rate to increase the chance of your auto-face-slapping. (If however you’re reading a book – that has real-life, turning(!) pages – you’ll find furious collisions be replaced by curious questions.)
- Don’t press the pedestrian cross button if wandering solo in a quiet traffic zone. Roads are a space for mutual agreeability, and can be navigated maturely without the full panoply of pedestrian aids. Be sure not to commit the worst of sins: the button-press followed by the pre-beep crossing, thus forcing a string of cars soon after to rage in vain at some phantom pedestrian.
- When strolling the pavement, be aware that, soon enough, you will have to do ‘the dance’. But once your opposite number has shimmied first to the left and then to the right in perfect choreography with you, it will be necessary to take the matter into your own hands. Walk stoutly and stubbornly down the right-hand side; if a body-check is necessary, so be it. ‘Sorry’ and a smile is an invincible combination to get you through any such eventuality. Neither party has the will or wherewithal to face a third shimmy.
- Don’t enforce the stop-and-chat with a passing acquaintance, unless there really is no scope whatsoever for the amicable drive-by-hi. Operate according to the Familiarity Index: fellow commuter – ever-so-slight head-twitch; probable former schoolmate – quarter-smile, eyebrow raise and nod; occasional pub-chatterer – subtle raise of hand and microsecond ‘hi’; blood relative – brief verbal exchange, if the circumstances are appropriate.
- Don’t zig-zag aimlessly down the pavement, like balloons in the breeze, especially if locked arm-in-arm. For you other pedestrians, alas, there’s no tone in which ‘excuse me’ sounds cordial. Given that Machell’s multi-lane redesign of pavements proved to be both controversial and prohibitively expensive, we must do what we can with our unmarked walkways: if it’s busy, recreate a mini-dual carriageway and keep left.
- Don’t be so pathetic as ever to drop litter: to do this by design is utterly unthinkable. And yet. If you’ve made the curious choice to chew flavoured rubber – or ‘gum’ as the youth dub it – and it accidentally rolls off your lolloping tongue, I want to see a slow-motion dive to save it from hitting the floor. If it does hit the floor, return it at once to the mouth for some contrite, penitential rumination. We’re better than this.
- Don’t get carried away by the street-food hawker, and before your know it spend £8.70 on a half portion of medium-quality dumplings. Work out whether it’s a real-deal here’s-your-food-where’s-my-money scenario, or whether it’s an art(-)is(-)anal hyping up of otherwise bargain-basement fare. Notwithstanding the societal pressure, keep your head!
- When queuing for cash machines, keep it simple. First person is at the machine; second person is right behind them, but politely turning away like a pro; third person has left a gap of four feet to allow for passing traffic, but has such aquiline vigilance that no-one could assume that they’re not in the queue; fourth person stands at the back thinking, ‘Please let none of these folk be the sort to press ‘other services’’.