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Yet nowhere in the grounds of Liverpool Lime Street will you be cautioned to so much as restrain your alligator. Guerrilla coffee vendors, have, as far as station signage goes, free run of the place. Choral societies, cricketers and those with loud-hailers may carry on as they please — at least, we suppose, until asked to stop.   
Yet nowhere in the grounds of Liverpool Lime Street will you be cautioned to so much as restrain your alligator. Guerrilla coffee vendors, have, as far as station signage goes, free run of the place. Choral societies, cricketers and those with loud-hailers may carry on as they please — at least, we suppose, until asked to stop.   


But should a young nipper skip across the platform with a freshly-fashioned balloon-dog, he risks censure. True: the sign does not go say ''how''. Would he be arrested? Marched to a cashpoint and ordered to pay an on-the-spot fine? The [[JC]] did not wait around long enough to find out.
But should a young nipper skip across the platform with a freshly-fashioned balloon-dog, he risks censure. True: the sign does not go on to say ''how''. Would he be arrested? Marched to a cashpoint and ordered to pay an on-the-spot fine?  


But, the local urchins milling around the station, clutching their R&B 45s, earned from rough trade with itinerant American seamen,<ref>This is the [https://www.theguardian.com/music/2015/jul/01/liverpool-merseybeat-cunard-yanks-sailors-taught-britain-to-rocknroll foundation myth] of the British Invasion.</ref>  seemed ''uneasy''. They did not seem minded to run the gamut of this balloon diktat. Anyone familiar with Liverpudlian street urchins will know this to be out of character.
The [[JC]] did not wait around long enough to find out.
 
But the local urchins milling around the station, clutching their R&B 45s, earned from rough trade with itinerant American seamen,<ref>This is the [https://www.theguardian.com/music/2015/jul/01/liverpool-merseybeat-cunard-yanks-sailors-taught-britain-to-rocknroll foundation myth] of the British Invasion.</ref>  seemed ''uneasy''. They did not seem minded to run the gamut of this balloon diktat. Anyone familiar with Liverpudlian street urchins will know this to be out of character.


Somehow, in Liverpool, the humble balloon has earned its own special category of turpitude. What can have happened? Was the fat controller one day plagued by balloons, flipped out and decided to get his own back? Has it helped?
Somehow, in Liverpool, the humble balloon has earned its own special category of turpitude. What can have happened? Was the fat controller one day plagued by balloons, flipped out and decided to get his own back? Has it helped?


If anyone knows, do write in and let us know.
If anyone knows, do write in and let us know.
===Signs===
{{sa}}
The [[JC]] doesn’t like the sorts of signs that warn you, or forbid you, or tell you what you can or cannot do. They emanate from the same [[passive aggressive]] instinct as the [[This is an auto-generated email|email sent from an unmonitored account]] — they’re a cheap shot at someone who can’t hit back — and more to the point they are a failure in [[design]]: if you don’t people to walk on your grass, stick up a fence, or ''pave'' the damn thing, or create some obstacle — do with life ''code'' what you are trying to do with ''bossiness''.
*[[Signs]]
So some thoughts about ''notices'', which we will arbitrarily define as written directions to do, or refrain from doing, something.
 
===If in doubt, use [[design]] principles to avoid signs===
Most signs — other than the exception of directions, and signposts, don’t work very well. They suggest you have failed in your task of designing your space. The language of design: affordances, signifiers, mapping and feedback — {{author|Don Norman}}’s {{br|The Design of Everyday Things}} can tell you what you need to know about these — can help, but your goal should be psychological. If you have designed your space well, then — with the exception of  sign''posts'' — you shouldn’t need signs
 
If you really can’t have people walking on your grass, build a fence. But if you are building a grassed area where people walk by, ask why. Use a hardier grass seed.  But if you are just being an officious  twerp because it is your property and you can, well — don’t.
 
===Where signs are okay===
in some cases we won't mind signs. They’re part of the design: they impart vital information and there's no better way of transmitting it. Signs that help you figure out what you want, and it can’t otherwise be made obvious through [[design]] and [[affordance]]. Maps, menus and street signs, for example. There's only one way of being sure I’m on Oxford Street, and that’s sign saying it. Likewise it is good to know that this is the turn-iff for Stansted: the M11 is a long motorway and it has lots of exits, and there's no easier way of intuitively knowing. And a menu: well how am I supposed to know what's on your menu without, well, a menu? But here be brief, clear — monosyllabic.
 
Likewise, where a condition is temporary enough that a redesign of the space is not practicable: So: “closed for maintenance”, or “thank-you for wearing a mask and maintaining social distancing”.

Revision as of 15:57, 29 October 2021

Sorry, but that doesn't work for me, Network Rail.
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It is pleasing to imagine the sequence of events that led to the erection, of Liverpool Lime Street station, of the following sign:

NO BALLOONS.
Balloons are not permitted on these station premises.
Please speak to a member of station staff for further information.

Network Rail: Working for you.

Now there are many things you can imagine that the proprietor of a rail terminus might not like brought onto its premises.

Some its Health & Safety Executive might feel strongly about: Snakes. Crocodiles. Explosives. Undomesticated grazing livestock.

Some might upset tenants and concession-holders: a mobile coffee vendor who cycles his rickshaw in and sets up on the platform concourse: that kind of thing.

Some, while posing no immediate danger to life, limb or the profitability of stall-holders, could be disruptive to the orderly functioning of the station: megaphones. The playing of cricket. Madrigal groups. Boomerangs. Stink-bombs.

Yet nowhere in the grounds of Liverpool Lime Street will you be cautioned to so much as restrain your alligator. Guerrilla coffee vendors, have, as far as station signage goes, free run of the place. Choral societies, cricketers and those with loud-hailers may carry on as they please — at least, we suppose, until asked to stop.

But should a young nipper skip across the platform with a freshly-fashioned balloon-dog, he risks censure. True: the sign does not go on to say how. Would he be arrested? Marched to a cashpoint and ordered to pay an on-the-spot fine?

The JC did not wait around long enough to find out.

But the local urchins milling around the station, clutching their R&B 45s, earned from rough trade with itinerant American seamen,[1] seemed uneasy. They did not seem minded to run the gamut of this balloon diktat. Anyone familiar with Liverpudlian street urchins will know this to be out of character.

Somehow, in Liverpool, the humble balloon has earned its own special category of turpitude. What can have happened? Was the fat controller one day plagued by balloons, flipped out and decided to get his own back? Has it helped?

If anyone knows, do write in and let us know.

See also

  1. ↑ This is the foundation myth of the British Invasion.
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