Since the death of Diana in a Paris subway in 1997, the issue of a monument to
celebrate her life has been a matter of controversy, debate and delay.
It took five years for a decision to be made on what form the memorial should
take and of what design, and in July 2002, Gustafson-Porter's winning
design was selected. Almost two years to the day later, the memorial was opened
by the Queen herself. Only for it to be closed down just a few weeks later.
At a cost of some 3.6 million GBP, it's another spectacular Made In
Britain failure. Another complete dud. Another fantastic fiasco to follow
in the footsteps of the Millennium Dome, the
Millennium Bridge, and lately
Beagle 2.
Not so much a fountain as a 'ring of water' - "an extraordinary water feature,
being a stone oval 210 metres in circumference around which water will run,
tumble, cascade, curl and bubble before coming to rest in a large tranquil
pool" - it was always envisaged that not only would the memorial be a place
of reflection, but a place of enjoyment, and the "large tranquil pool"
somewhere people, children in particular, could paddle.
The ring, which some people have rather disparagingly come to call Di's
Ditch, has been closed for four of the six weeks since its opening and the
fountain has been plagued with problems. First the pumps failed, and then a
rogue leaf brought the whole thing to a standstill. The most recent closure was
instigated after three people had fallen while paddling in the water, with
serious injury being caused which required hospital treatment.
Accusation and blame for the problems is flying left and centre; the designers
blaming people for using the fountain as a paddling pool, while the public
blame the designers and everyone else involved for failing to see that paddling
is the guaranteed result of mixing people, water and 30°C summer
temperatures.
As is the case with so many design failures ( be it car park layouts, one way
road systems, car parking permit schemes and pretty much anything else ) it
seems that the experts and all those tasked with commissioning and implementing
whatever it is are incapable of seeing the problems which an untrained and
unqualified member of the public can spot in a millisecond or less.
In the case of the Princess's Fountain; anyone who has ever slipped, or come
close to slipping, in a bath knows full well that slippery surfaces coated
with water are not conducive to remaining upright. That people slipped and
fell in a polished granite gutter with water coursing over it seems to have
come as no surprise to anyone but the designers and the government department
which oversaw the work. With the edge of the water's path lined with rocky
outcrops to force the water to swirl turbulently and in various directions, it
is no surprise that people are leaving the site in ambulances rather than taxis.
It is not therefore surprising that the public have very little faith in either
engineering or those who administer projects and dish out the money that pays
for them.
For their part, the government is desperately trying to apportion blame to
anywhere but itself. Tessa Jowell, the Minister for Culture and Sport, who was
in charge of the entire project, claimed the water feature had been inspected
and cleared by the Royal Society for the Prevention of Accidents before it was
opened up to the public. RoSPA for their part deny giving any such clearance,
saying that their involvement was limited to giving advice on safety, not in
ensuring it.
So, as is so very typical when something on a grand scale goes completely
pear-shaped, no one is willing to put their hands up to making any mistakes at
all. It's all some terrible thing which couldn't have been foreseen, any
blame ( if there is any ) rests with someone else who cannot be named for
some vague reason, and heaven help us if we believe it's just another example
of incompetence manifesting itself as soon as large wads of cash are bandied
about. Just because there is a list of high-cost, high-profile, cock-ups we
can cite as long as an arm, it is no reason to believe that there is any
correlation with the abilities, or lack thereof, of British Engineering.
Embarrassing cock-ups which have a high public profile can't easily be swept
under the carpet but need to be fixed, and steps have been taken to try and
make the fountain safe. Grooves have been cut into the granite base of the
waterway to provide better grip ( although why those rubber suction-mats which
old folk have in their baths weren't used is beyond me, and it's not as if
there's any aesthetic value to the monstrosity anyway ), rules have been
imposed to limit the number of people in the area of the fountain, paddling has
been prohibited, and there will be six 'guards' placed around the site ( three
in winter ) to enforce the rules, or in government spin-mode speak, to ensure
the public's safety.
When the current furore dies down, these highly trained protectors, proficient
in first aid, lifeguarding and crowd management, will no doubt return to the
lines of the dole queue and all we'll be left with some tatty signs telling us
that the management take no responsibility for our actions until some future
accident happens and the tabloids can argue over where the guards were and
the ensuing argument over who should fund them can roar into life.
In the meantime, we can enjoy standing around the magical ring of water by
the Serpentine, wondering where the Otters are, asking where the money
lavished on a water feature befitting of Charlie Dimmock actually went, and
contemplating what the point of it really is. To those who pose the question,
"Is this the pinnacle of what Britain has to offer these days ?", the answer,
rather sadly, is, "Yes".
If you are taken in by the wonder of it all, an itinerant roadworker
can probably knock you up the same in your own back garden for just a few quid
using some stolen kerb stones. If you really are a fan of Princess Di, you may
be better off throwing yourself down your house stairs as Diana did herself;
not only is that a befitting tribute to the dead, doe-eyed divorcee, but a good
simulation of how the Princess Diana Memorial Fountain worked in its
short-lived heyday.
