Barcelona & Norwich, March 2025

If you’ve spent time in any European city, you probably come back to the UK wondering the same thing I do: why do things just seem to work better elsewhere?

Of course, if you visited Barcelona in late April 2025, you might have caught a rare sight—nothing working—thanks to a widespread power outage. But normally? It’s a different story.

My son lives in a quiet, residential part of Barcelona. It’s not built for tourists—just local life. During a week helping him settle into his new place, I set myself a very British challenge:
First, count the potholes.
Second, test public transport by getting from his house to the airport.

What I found was a city in motion: escooters, electric bikes, cars, trams, buses, trains, pedestrians, and even the occasional skateboarder—all coexisting in what can only be described as harmony. Things just worked. Roads were smooth. Public transport was cheap and reliable. Traffic signals were where you’d expect them to be.

Remember—this wasn’t the polished, tourist-facing Barcelona. It was the everyday city.

In my whole time there, I couldn’t find a single pothole. I could have jumped on a scooter if I wanted to. Crossing the road felt intuitive, not a high-stakes gamble.

Back in the UK: A Bumpy Ride

In contrast, my expensive return train journey from Stansted to Norwich involved a replacement bus service. As the bus jolted through Cambridge’s main roads—just as cratered as Norwich’s—I wondered:
Why is the UK so bad at getting the basics right?

Why are the roads so awful? Watching people hesitate and stumble across Norwich’s confusing ‘toucan crossings’ made me realise the problem isn’t just with local councils—it’s systemic. A national dysfunction.

In Barcelona, every morning I saw teams cleaning the streets, emptying bins, or simply sitting outside cafés with a coffee or a cognac. Everyday life, cared for.

It’s not like Spain has a secret stash of road-making magic. France and the UK spend roughly the same on roads each year, yet French roads are consistently better. Spain spends less than the UK—and yet, somehow, their streets feel better maintained, safer, more functional.

So why is Britain falling apart?

Near my home east of Norwich, a short stretch of new road—just 1.5 miles—is taking three years to build and will cost nearly £100 million. Watching it drag on, with long periods where nothing seems to happen, feels like a perfect metaphor.

Stuck in Neutral

Trains are expensive and unreliable. Public transport is disconnected. I bought an escooter five years ago, thinking legislation would soon legalise them—because they’re green, practical, and perfect for short trips.
Five years later, the only real change is more aggressive enforcement against them.

Why is the UK so good at blocking progress but so poor at facilitating it?

Even my son, who grew up here but now lives in Spain, can’t understand it. He used to joke about how long the A11 was taking to resurface—and how, no matter when he drove by, there were never any workers around.

People say we need more investment—and sure, that’s part of it. But you can’t fix deep-rooted cultural dysfunction with money alone.

Culture, Not Just Cash

Look at mental health. Youth mental health is spiralling, yet more funding only ever seems to mean bigger sticking plasters, not real solutions.
The same with obesity. Anxiety. Crime. Suicide. Potholes.

They’re symptoms of a deeper issue: a broken culture.

Take “safetyism,” for example—the worship of risk avoidance.
“Safety is our number one priority” is a mantra heard everywhere. A massive industry has sprung up to offer safety advice, consultancy, equipment—all of which make actual progress almost impossible.

Risk has become something to eliminate rather than manage.
And the more resources we funnel into trying to make life risk-free, the fewer we have left to actually build anything.
Personal accountability has been eroded too: if someone falls down a hole while looking at their phone, the first instinct is to sue the council—not reflect on their own choices.

Combine that with the “no win, no fee” legal culture, and you have a recipe for inertia.

These are cultural traits. They aren’t fixed by money. They are part of what makes Britain feel increasingly dysfunctional.

Final Thoughts

So when I see increasingly expensive SUVs bouncing over worsening potholes, I can’t help but wonder:
Is Britain literally crumbling while a handful of people get richer?

The growing wealth gap is real. Would I pay higher taxes to fix things? Absolutely. But not to fund the current political system—because that system would just spend more on risk assessments, meetings, and consultations instead of real improvements.

Doing more of what doesn’t work… doesn’t suddenly make it work.

What Britain needs isn’t just more money. It’s a grassroots cultural change.
And honestly? I have no idea how we start.