Stane Street

Tramping out of Camolodunum’s Balkerne Gate head west, Roman soldiers, mostly born in places better referred to as France and Flanders, probably knew little and cared a lot less about the age of the road along which they would trample.

The Balkerne Gate is still there by the way, half knocked down, and somewhat secured by recent council action. When the railway arrived around 1850, way down the hill, the publican situated at the gate took it upon himself to knock portions of it down thus enabling those arriving by train to see his Hostelry. It was an unwise step from a historical viewpoint, and I doubt it was very successful from his viewpoint as the walk uphill is indeed steep, but few would notice his pub from the station.

The wall had been built not long after Boudica and her Iceni friends arrived and burnt the place to the ground. Only the large cellar of what is now ‘Colchester Castle,’ remained, and that filled with burnt corpses. The people, now Romanised, were not regarded as loyal to the lady, therefore she treated them to the same regard she had already passed over to Verulaneum and Londinium. She was quite keen to share slaughter between all Romanised types.

Thus the wall that had not been erected in her day arose. An unfortunate mistake the Romans did not make again. No matter how trustworthy the Brits around them, the Romans built walls and defensive fortifications where they required them.

The soldiers would notice the road. It is possible they themselves had been involved in hardening the road themselves. Roman soldiers quickly learnt how to build fortifications, roads, and buildings to accompany them wherever they went. Partly this kept them busy, partly it kept them fit, always it enabled fast travel by the standards of the day for this vast military machine.

To this day the road remains almost exactly as it was then, heading west, it stretches out for 15 miles, up hill and down dale, nothing the soldiers would have found troublesome however, and after some fifteen miles (a days march) they would stop at a crossroads for the night, eat sleep and continue in the morning.

Sleep would be welcomed after the march as unless a few horse drawn carts could be found the soldier had to carry his own equipment, around 80 pounds in weight, similar to UK soldiers today.

He wore a tunic under his armour, a helmet on his head and his red cloak on his back. On his feet he wore military boots while carrying his shield and Pilum (his spear) and his sword dangled from his the belt around his waist. On the march much of this was thrown over his shoulder to make life easier, though how much easier the army personnel may dispute. On normal marches they would build a fort each night, a hard but important job in dangerous places. I suspect this was not required in what is now Essex as surely such accommodation as required was permanently built. However, I know not if this is the case.

Leaving the walled city was always dangerous for Romans, while most Brits were happy in these parts the experience of Boudica had left the Romans and the Romanised locals wary. At no time did Rome believe this land was secure enough to withdraw troops, they remained for several hundred years because of the troublesome natives.

Leaving the city the march takes them through Lexden, now a nice suburb for those who can afford it and then the outer reaches of defensive ditches created in the first century BC. Long ditches were dug in several places, with more added over the next 200 years. The Trinovanti had long suffered problems from the Catuvellaunii who ought to have remained in Hertfordshire where they belonged. This they did not and eventually took over Catolodunon (as called before the Romans changed the spelling) including the area of Lexden where a number of tombs can be seen, or mounds may be a better description, including one supposed to contain the remains of Cunobelinus, known as Cymbeline to some, the King of the Catuvellaunii.

Mumping Monday

The sky offered the usual Spring deceit today.  As I stumbled up towards Sainsburys the chill in the air was hidden behind the blue of the sky.  By lunchtime I was sitting indoors with my jacket on wondering if I ought to make use of the heater!  Instead I did the laundry, at least drying the ageing T-shirts over that heater warms part of the house. 

Sainsburys, the checkout lass informed me last week, are planning to change things around.  Out will go several checkouts, replaced by larger, trolley sized, self-service checkouts.  Hooray!  Instead of people like me struggling to get a dozen items through a self-service machine soon people with trolleys will be struggling to get over a hundred items through the checkout!  

They will soon be off their trolley.  

Since John James Sainsbury established his grocery shop in 1869, somewhere in London, the company has been one of the leading supermarkets in the land.  Tesco long ago overtook them as 'top dog' but this company is still in their fighting and increasing the prices on their 'own brand labels goods.'  Anything to help the poor Qatar's who own 15% of the shares.

Having hobbled back I noticed changes downstairs.  Later, when I had finished my reduced (but not by much) Chicken Kyiv lunch I heard strange noises again.  These emanated from a man holding a heavy item half way through the downstairs window.  Naturally, as a keen helpful type I wished to offer assistance, my back however, wisely warned me not to interfere when a man is having fun.  So, I ignored the foul language quietly escaping him and settled back down to read the online press. 

This was not encouraging, it rarely is.  Much of the media is dominated by the queens Jubilee.  Now having been monarch for 70 years is clearly an achievement to admire, especially when you have no official power, and many will admire her for this, though not her son obviously.  Parties are planned, two days off have been granted (Thursday & Friday), pubs have longer opening hours and the police more overtime to clean up the mess.  

The church is having a 'special' service for her, including a lunch and a fun time afterwards.  Some cruel cynical types asked me If I would be helping out!  I have made clear I am unable to attend as I will be with the Young Communists, burning 'Butchers Aprons,' on Sunday.  This, as you may imagine, has not been believed by the Brexiteers amongst us.  I fail to see why.

I spent the day sending one or two begging emails, none of which have provoked a response as yet.  And also 30 minutes listening to my sister chatting.  While informative, this leaves more tinnitus in my ear than AD/DC ever did!  I gave her a second hand laptop, quite good enough for her needs, so I could email her rather than use long phone calls.  This she cannot work, her fingers are too aged to cope, and the email has not been set up properly, even though her grandson works for the phone people!  Kids huh?

Now, with no football to watch, I am left wondering what to fill my empty head with.  In the evenings tiredness leads to watching things that require no energy or thought.  Football often fits perfectly here.  Tonight's TV offers 'Britain's Got Talent,' a misnomer if ever there was one, 'Jurassic Park,' and 'Bargain Loving Brits in the Sun.'  I am not convinced this is my kind of TV.

OK then, it is time to read books...

   

All hail the power of Jesus name

ISP 2

 

Braving the crowds on market day, especially as the market was having a 'Queen Jubilee' day, I sought out the hesitant salesmen of Gigaclear.  Friendly, helpful but hesitant about whether the new infrastructure would be in place soon.  This is a shame as I need it now.  It may be in a week or two, they claimed, but we are not sure.  Though the rest of the town is ready for this my street in the centre is not, why?  I am 5 minutes from the green box!  There are plenty of potential customers elsewhere but they appeared desperate for a sale.  Hmmm.  "I think," said the boss when he arrived, "I think it may be June 1st." I shook them off as they were licking my shoes and made for home  

I eyed the stalls full of home made spirits at expensive prices, beer, cakes, women's trinkets, fudge, candles, honey and lots of burgers, chilli's and pizza on offer.  I went home to my cheese sandwich.

 

 

Later, I trawled through the Broadband bargains.  

All bright and shiny, all marvellous, and all more or less the same, bar BT's which looked expensive.  Tired and weary straining my little mind at the comparisons,  I logged back into PlusNet and agreed the easy way to renew once again.  I am not happy, I feel I am missing out of higher speeds.  

However, on the other hand I am just extremely privileged to be able to use such a system as a laptop.  Another famine is sweeping Africa and I whine about speeds on laptops!  I need to sort my attitudes here.  There are also folks suffering in the UK, suffering from Hunger!  In the UK!  Before Brexit the 6th richest nation on earth!  With over 2000 Food Banks already in action, and more required, I find I am buying things which I once regarded as luxuries during the days of unemployment.  I buy luxuries, many struggle to buy needful.  I have been there, I understand how easy it is to find yourself with large bills and no money.  Yet I still grumble I want more!

I am worse than Boris Johnson! 

 

 

Talking of whom I note he has found a way to avoid being caught out according to the Ministerial Code!  He has amended it to suit himself!  Brilliant!

If you did not realise the UK is a under his Fascist Coup then you had better start  believing it!  The press are his, he bought them just to make sure, the BBC is his,  he placed his own men in charge, and he is limiting the courts, Parliament, and anyone who speaks against him.

Yet the Conservative Party still support him, the MP's bow to him, and it is they who will lose out come a general election, he himself will land on his feet, or at least someone else's feet.

 

ISP Time Again

So, in a few days time the ISP runs out.  The choice now is to renew with these chancers 'Plusnet,' or find a new ISP.  As always things have changed since last time.  Now we know that 'Fibre,' is just between the telegraph pole and the house.  'Full Fibre,' we now know comes all the way from that wee green box to the house, thus not using BT's copper wires and enabling superfast speeds, improving from 50 to 600!  I want this!  However, this means the landline phone is dead.  The local Superfast does not mention Wi-Fi except as an add-on, why?  

And as far as I can see half the town has this superspeed but not the centre of town!  

A quick check of other ISP prices reveals the same deliberately confused pricing schemes as always.  Each one increases you price faster than it increases your speeds.  In the end it may be easier to remain with 'Plusnet' as it saves bother, though the speed on offer appear slower than before.  I may have to phone and threaten to leave to see what I can get from them.  

The 'Superfast' mob will probably have a display at the market tomorrow so I will drag myself around there are be lied to Boris style by their man.  If they have not installed the 'Fast Fibre' they have had it.  I have no time to wait and I will have to use the common folks.  Tsk!

Thrush and Sunak

It is the time of the year to look up and listen.  Last night, as I was bemoaning the lack of football on TV, I heard this boy sing.  (It may be female, I don't know)  How wonderful is the sound of a Thrush in the evening, or perhaps a Blackbird, lots of them around here as always.  So far tonight he has not shown up, too early, and the sun is still shining high in the sky.  I suspect he, and his mates, will be seeking the late worms and other beasties that manifest themselves at this time of year.  Walking around today I noticed again the Swifts overhead.  Maybe they were House Martins, but I am sure they are swifts.  They all move to fast to check!

 

 

I saw them when I was returning from 'Poundland' & 'B&M.'  I had gone to stock up on the £1 imitation Daz, and cheap bleach.  However, there were huge gaps in the shelves.  While filled as well as could be expected it was clear stocks were low.  So I left 'Poundland' and went next door to 'B&M' where a similar situation was to be found.  It is clear Brexit and the huge costs, let alone the amount of paperwork, has taken its toll on shops importing all their goods from China.  Another Brexit Dividend I assume?

 

In spite of all the denials, all it took was a report from Sue concerning lots of parties at No 10 to enable the Chancellor to hand out the cash to the needy.  While this is beneficial, I ask, is this the best method?  Certainly this will help many, but for those on benefits how far will £650 go between a family of four, especially if they are not the wisest?  I suppose Boris can now claim to be doing something, however, nobody believes him.

I wonder, if he stood down who would replace him?  The leading lights are lights that are very dim, and no proper leader will wish to take control, especially as the next election will be a disaster for the Tories.  So, step forward Liz Truss!  This is your moment, take control, spend two years being worse than Boris, lose the election and allow a real Conservative to return, if there are any left...

 

Responsibility

 

"I take full responsibility for everything that took place on my watch."

He's lying again.

 

'Dipper Books'

 

I have begun reading these two, what I call 'Dipper' books.  That is, they are full of short chapters on a variety of different subjects and therefore do not requre long term attention.  Ideal for bathrooms everywhere.

'Reportage Scotland,' was first published in the year 2000, this version in 2005, 'World of Books' tempted me again.  This attempts to give reportage from 'eye witnesses' or as near as possible down through Scotland's History, beginning with Tacitus detailing in 'The Agricola,' the adventures (always successfull) of his father-in-law, Agricola.  Some famous, some notorious I suppose, and many unknown people offer their view on events they see.  

John Knox, the great reformer, gives his view on the death of Cardinal Beaton, a candle-maker in Leslie in Fife writes later to a freind of the problems caused by the bandit Rob Roy, and the 'Caledonian Mercury' of 1778 discusses John Paul Jones, a Scotsman who had joined the American revolution and later founded the navy.  The trial of Burke and Hare, or at least Burke, Hare had turned Kings Evidence and got off, in 1828 is here, as is the 'Edinburgh Evening News' report from 1890 concerning the opening of the Forth Bridge.

I love such books as they give an insight to historical events, important and less so, from the people who were there.  As always there is a need to understand from what perspective they are writing, but I think this is a great book.

'The Modern Explorers' published first in 2013, is slightly newer.  It follows similar short chapter settings where modern explorers speak of the sights seen and endured, as they continue to traverse the earth into places as yet unknown to most of us.  Polar regions, Deserts, Mountains and the like are covered by those brave, or stupid, enough to cross them.

One advantage of such books must be the short chapters.  Any that bore can be dumped and another chosen.  Another advantage is that you can learn something from someone who was there, or maybe near enough.   

 

Nothing to Say

Nothing happened.

Not on Sunday, nor today.

So, nothing to say.

I'm quite glad...

'Travellers in the Third Reich' by Julia Boyd.

 

World of Books

 

This is an interesting book.  I must say I read this on 'Kindle,' as it was cheaper that way!  Actual books however, are easier to read as maps and notes can be turned to much easier.  

Kindle however, is ideal for lying on your side in bed while reading.

During the 1930's a wide variety of people passed through Germany.  The country had been a popular holiday resort from long before the Great War, you will remember Jerome K Jerome's second book 'Three Men on the Bummel,' was based on a cycling holiday in Germany.  Even after the conflict many continued to visit a nation they enjoyed.  Some were ex-servicemen seeking reconciliation, some religious feeding hungry children during the 1920's, and there were plenty of them at that time, and others seeking peace during the 30's.  

Once Hitler took control many continued to visit, either because they admired the obvious improvements such as the building of houses for workers, improved work to eradicate unemployment, and the purpose and stability which grew during the 1930's throughout the country.  Those who admired such things tended to downplay or ignore the other side of National Socialism.  Jews, some claimed, got what they deserved, others took a different view and risked all to save Jews and their children, an act which cost them money and could have cost them their lives.

From our perspective it was obvious what was happening, however, for those on the ground, including worldly wise and intelligent people, recognising what was happening around them was not easy.  The devil disguises himself in light and confusion when he operates!  Clearly many did not realise, until 1938, the depth of darkness around them.   

W.E.B. Du Bois, a black American in his 60's loved the country and found himself welcomed across Germany.  An intelligent and wise man yet he found it difficult to understand what was actually happening around him.  Such was the difficulty under the Nazis.  

English women married to Germans had a great deal of freedom, once they proved their Aryan background, and it is surprising how many were found, often working together, in Germany during the war.  A great many foreigners were in the country, usually from Scandanavian or European nations and with a great deal of belief in National Socialism.  Many died in action.  Women suffered the loss of their husbands in action, one decapitated when he was found to be sheltering a refugee (Jew?).  While the men were away they had to rear children, the German woman's job under Nazi rule, and eventually work in factories and fields.    

The impression left is a nation totally under the control of one man.  The belief in him was strong, even after 1943 when it became clear the war was lost.  During Hitler's rise the nation put their trust in him, and those who didn't kept their mouths shut.  Obedience was all, and all obeyed.  This was the situation in the UK also under the war cabinet, however, in the UK complaints were loud and clear, obedience was for the good of the many and all knew it, while a huge number did not obey and rebelled when the stress was too much.  A very different kind of repression to that in Germany.  Belief in Hitler was strong, not always forced, and this allowed him to pacify the nation while building arms and planning to finish the Great War.  

This book aids an understanding of how such control can happen without anyone noticing, and gaining support from the many, in spite of awful things occurring.   I found it entrancing, with the one problem that the author jumps from one person to another making it difficult to keep up with who is who!  Maybe that is just me?

I recommend this book.    

 

Lazy Friday: Rome:

Boris, Met Police,Celebs, Rangers loss

                                                  BBC/Reuters

Once again the Met Police (London) have failed in their duty.  The clearly guilty Prime Minister has avoided the large fines that normal people have suffered for gatherings/parties during lockdown.

Once again the MET have looked to their careers instead of their duty.   

Once again the lying deceitful PM avoids responsibilities.

Anyone surprised at this?

 

 

The couple who won £184 million on the Lottery have announced themselves as winners.  I myself would never admit to winning large sums of money, though such a stroke of what some call luck has never come my way.  The stories of those who win big are not always pleasant.  Many do well, many survive, some break up, ruin their own and their families lives, and do not enter a period of joy.  This of course does not mean that I would not appreciate the opportunity to have such a large sum at my disposal, but at my age what could I do with it but give it away?  

Large amounts ought to go to younger folks with children and dreams.  My dreams are simple, the trouble spending all that amount would weary me, though the girls in the family would have some ideas what to do with it!  

Possibly the new owners, friends of the Tory Party, would benefit the lower orders by sharing the winnings in a better manner, ensuring more chances to win, not small, but not overlarge either.  

For myself I will remain happily in poverty...  

 

BBC/PA

The ladies, Rooney and Vardy, have been filling the papers all week with their days in court.

I ignored them.

NDTV

Jonny Depp (who he?) and Amber Heard (who she?) have been in court, remain in court, and are filling the world media while in court.

I ignore them.

 

BBC/Reuters

 

Most unfortunate that the Blue Bigots lost on penalties last night.  The wee Welshman who cost £2 million, earns £40,000 a week and could not kick a ball 12 yards past a goalkeeper, cost them the game, and that after 120 minutes of duff football.  Most unfortunate...

Tee Hee...

 

Brexit and Gay Brownshirts

The Brexit dividend is with us, says the man from the Bank of England, £444 million a week it is costing the UK!  Money just trundles away from us, and leaves many asking "Where is the £350 million a week saved for the NHS?"  No answer is the reply.

One Tory MP claims people can make a meal for 30 pence, another says if you want more money work more hours, or get a second job.  She herself is on £84,000 plus £200,000 expenses, and whatever 'other job' she has.  Today Labour demanded a 'windfall tax' on energy companies, Boris muttered something and ignored the question.  No change there.  Someone asked me "Is this the worst government you can remember?"  "Yes!" is the reply.  All those bad governments, including Thatcher, were better than this. At least Thatcher would not leave the EU just to keep her job.

More 'Stonewall' love abounding I note.  An 18 year old at a private school questioned the 'Trans' ideology being pushed by the school.  She was hounded out by other girls, the teachers doing nothing but claiming she was upsetting the majority.  This school has many visits from Stonewall.  

Police, Fire and their leaders met at a conference this week to encourage integration of gays and trans.

They said nothing about integrating victims of crime, foreigners, elderly or disabled, but only the Stonewall favourites.  I wonder why?

Why are such people involved in events like this?  Do they not deal with individuals as individuals?  Or do the police and fire require special preparation for their job?  Saying this I have just noticed a special 50p coin has been produced for gays!  Why?  

There is also a row as some African players, Muslim or Christian, will not wear shirts dedicated to gays.  Some object to this stand, especially as one player in Blackpool has announced he is gay.  For some reason this makes him a hero.  Fail to develop normally and be praised.  What a strange world.

Opposition to those who disagree with the gay life is growing throughout the nation.  It has become accepted that being trans or gay is normal, when it clearly is not.  Those who claim such people are being their 'true selves' are wrong.  This is a broken person, like the rest of us, and only Jesus can heal and make us whole.  Encouraging people to live a false life destroys them, and society.  Browbeating opponents will never work, gay Brownshirts will come to a bad end soon.

       

Sting!

 

At ten minutes to four this morning, while I was enjoying a dream, I felt something irked my head.  Naturally, I reached up and removed said item.  Then my head began to irk somewhat.  A sharp pain radiated from next to my eye, I felt a slight bump, switched on the light, and found a large Bumble Bee crawling hesitatingly across the floor.  

It's four in the morning!  

I found a slight spot near my eye, slightly swelling, rubbed ice on it for a minute and went back to bed, the dying Bee now stuttering along the floor next to the cupboards.  Nothing to do now, so back to sleep which eventually returned.  

Why is it, that if you awake around three or four in the morning it takes an hour and a half to get back to sleep?  Why not just return to repose?  

Very annoying.

Tonight, having searched for the beast I found him on the bed, near the window.  I placed him on the window ledge, left sugared water near him, watched him drink and have left him to it.  Whether he can make it I know not, but as he is still under the window that soon I must close he is certainly going to have to move again, and not indoors.

I looked up Bumble Bees in an effort to learn more and now I am confused.  There are so many and I do not know which one this is!  There are so many that even the experts require DNA to be sure about some of them.  

I do know that because of the increase in pesticide use, and this government has allowed such things to continue, Bees, without which we cannot survive, are threatened.  Doesn't it make you wonder why we vote for such people?  

 

 

Baked Beans and Protests

 

 

It must come as no surprise to anyone that supermarkets are ripping off the poorest.  I bought two bottles of 'Hubbards Brown sauce,' Sainsburys perfectly acceptable 'own brand' sauce, the other day and noticed it now cost 54p.  Not that long ago this cost 44p, then rose to 48p.  This rise has nothing to do with Brexit!  I did not check the beans this time but I expect to pay more for them also.  

You may remember 2008, a year when Rishi Sunak and his like gambled with the word economy, broke a Dutch Bank and enriched themselves while we all suffered.  Beans at both Tesco and Sainburys then cost 9 pence a tin, overnight these increased to 20 pence a tin, a profit of 11p.  Considering how many   tins of beans would be sold throughout the UK at both shops you can imagine the profit made.  Today we see similar rip-offs from the poorest, those who now turn to 'Home Store' products rather than expensive and not always better, branded goods.  

Brexit has certainly made prices rise among the many other problems it has caused.  Is it, I ask, a good thing for supermarkets, who made a killing from the Covid pandemic, to raise prices on the goods many will now turn to?  

I wonder, would it have been a better idea to lower such prices and bring in the customer?  Such a price war might be too costly for these giant companies who tell us what to eat.  Possibly their shareholders would not appreciate the kindness to those whom they do not belong amongst?  

The Tory MP who claimed it was possible to make a meal for 30 pence, the one who has claimed almost £200,000 on expences, has anyone worked out how to make such a meal?  Take away the cost of electric or gas, even then a sandwich would cost more than 30p to create!  

 

 

Comments from Conservative MPs like that have never been lacking, the difference today is that in the past these were odd-bods on the back benches and a few catcalls quieted them down.  Today however, such comments are not opposed, many loudly offer support, and the man in the street appears totally uninterested in doing something about it.

"When I was a lad..." as they say, we wanted a fairer world.  'Make Love, not war,' was a common cry, though 'Make Tea, not love,' was more common.  Maybe it was different with you?   We wanted to change the world for the better.   Programmes like 'Cathy Come Home,' which concerned a woman losing her home, her husband and her children because of the housing crisis, had a powerful effect on the nation, today such programmes either do not exist or are replaced by women's porn or soap operas.  Our generation wished to end war and make the world better.  Charities abounded, protests also, change for the better was demanded.  What protests exist now?  The 'right' to murder a child in abortion perhaps?  The 'right' to consider you are born in the wrong body?  The 'right' to be what you have decided you are, want to be, or just want, is now what matters.  

Concern for others, improving the world for the better, re housing, hospitals, ending war, seeking a better world, are all pushed aside for the individuals desires.  

There are no protests in the streets regarding government corruption.  No protests today demanding Brexit being ended.  No protests regarding a lying cowardly crooked Prime Minister.  No protests filling the streets regarding Priti Patels migrant policy.  

Nothing.  

Indeed looking at the recent local election results it is clear many still vote willingly for this government in spite of what it is doing to them!   While many have risen up to oppose not enough will appear come a general election and depose this government.  This when today we hear the Chancellor claim he cannot increase aid to those suffering for the cost of living as 'Due to a technical problem, the computers cannot deal with this!'  Such blatant lying, accompanied with a Patel like smirk, even yet does not cause the people to rouse themselves, rise up and demand change.

What is going on in the nation?

 

A Trip to Waterstones

 

Decided this morning to take action against the 'stir crazy' feeling that has developed around here.  I checked the bus times online, decided I was going to miss the 10:09 so noticing there was a different bus at 10:24 strode manfully for that.  It was not to be found.  Instead the No 70 I was looking for is now a No 370.  The 42B at 10:24 no longer appears to exist, according to the timetable on the shelter at the new bus station at any rate, so 370 it was to be.  

The screen informed me the next 370 would be along in 9 minutes.

I believed them.  

I was right to do so, 9 minutes later the bus pulled into the bay, the wrong bay, but into a bay.  Not quite the 'Zimmer' bus as of old I note this one.  This lot were more the ten different coloured pills a day lot I think.  Anyway, we clambered aboard and slowly the bus made its way out of the terminus and wound round a new route to the far off city. 

 

 

It being almost three years since I last ventured out this way I was as happy as a kid going on holiday.  I expected to see change, and change there was.  Many new housing developments have arisen.  With a Tory controlled council it is no suprise to note these are all houses costing from £400,000 and rising, so as to bring in more Tory voters.  I must admit a sense of growing discontent about this.  Not that I can ever buy, but to purchase a one bed flat here requires about £18,000 deposit, and even then the mortgage people may not accept you.  An actual cheap house may be found at the £300,000 mark, but unless you have one to sell, who can afford this?  

 

Fifty or so minutes later we landed in town and I hastened slowly towards the Cathedral.  There is nothing much else but shops in this town, and I wanted only one of them.  I actually wished to look at the bookstall in here, and on this quiet  day I found a lack of books, a mere smattering on the shelves.  The Diocese office keeps the best ones in their bookshop.  I was not going there.

 

I sat opposite this window, much brighter in reality than in this poor picture, the first time I have really noticed it.   Somewhat Victorian to me.  Just looking at it now I noticed a wee man high up on the left side.  A closer look indicates this is Andrew, according to the cross he holds, and maybe next time I am in I will look again, and with the better camera.  

I departed soon after I had mused sufficiently, hesitating when mistaken for an employee by a young lady entering the building.  Have I sunk so low I actually look like an Anglican now?

 

 

Waterstones was the shop I was heading to.  Here, my £20 gift voucher in hand, I perused each shelf, each table, and almost the Costa coffee shop before I noticed the prices, and, eventually making my purchase and discovering I had £10 on my Waterstones card also.  This I will keep until the next time, probably next week and visit the Camoludunum shop.  

In spite of the masses of books available I was a bit disappointed.  None of them jumped out at me this time, however, after wandering around, almost shoving an unwilling to move woman from one table, and stopping a more polite one from moving at another, I managed to find three books to bring home to the bookshelves.  As always it is a bit of a gamble, will these actually be worth someone else's money?  Will I enjoy them?  Will I find time to read them in between sloth and stuffing my face?     

 

 

The trouble is, I only have one more book token to use, but there are several books I consider I ought to consider.  Maybe I need to drop hints with the family again...?

 

Ridiculous as it sounds I almost went the wrong way heading back to the bus.  Tsk!  I intended to pass throught the market and check out one or two stalls.  On the correct route I passed this.  At first I thought it was the 'Wicker Man,' but it turns out to be a war memorial.

The memorial itself commemorates the Boer War, a massive block elsewhere remembers the Great War, but this one always has a presentation of sorts in November.  Not sure what that is made from but it is well done.

I passed through the very large indoor market, obtaining a variety of meat from the butcher and accidentally purchasing two large slabs of cheese from the cheese stall.  The nurse will not be pleased.  It is a log time since I have been here, these two stalls have not changed, and many of the other stalls remain in place, including the one selling aged cameras at inflated prices.

 

Somewhat surprised at my energy I went to the bus station.  At the stop the numbers indicated had changed.  I queried this with a driver hesitating to begin his shift.  He informed me how things had been revised, where my stop now was, and we both laughed when I asked why there was now a Number 70, as well as a Number 370 bus on the same routes.  "I have no idea," he said holding wide his arms.  We both laughed at the managers and clever people high up who direct things but never see them in action on the ground.

I checked the bus stop.  Lots of old pill pushers stood there.  The indicator claimed the No 70 was coming in 34 minutes, the C1 (what's that?) in 1 minute.  I went to the 'Tesco Express,' bought an overpriced bottle of water, returned to the stop to find only a couple waiting.  The C1 went off to the Hospital taking the pill pushers with it.  Now the indicator said No 370 in 6 minutes.  I sat of the two rails that form a poor seat and the No 370 drew in behind me!  

Catching a bus takes lots of patience, exercise, sarcasm and hope in this area I find.   Still, I was heading home.

 

What delight to see old houses (costing a million) blue sky, green grass, growing crops and hedges filled with birds flapping about.  Though to be honest it was mostly Crows I heard murmering.  It was good to be out, especially as the day passed quickly with no troubles.  Within three hours I had returned, eaten lunch and began to stiffen up.  A good day, which I will pay for tomorrow.

 

Wednesday Wittering

 

On this day in 1812 the Prime Minister, one Spencer Perceval, was assassinated.   I do not mention this as a suggestion for anyone to take note off by the way, I am just mentioning it in passing.  Security, by the way, has since been tightened somewhat at the House Lobby.  Spencer, a 'run-of-the-mill' Prime Minister had done nothing to upset his assassin except be PM while the gunman tried to get recompense from his trials, though the government as a whole was guilty in the assassin's eyes.  

One John Bellingham was the man responsible.  While in Russia during 1802 he had discovered an insurance scam in operation.  However, Russian corruption has not changed its spots and soon he was serving 5 years in prison on trumped up charges.  Eventually released, he demanded compensation and was ignored.  Back in the UK about 1809 he spoke to his MP and a Treasury official seeking compensation for this injury.  This led nowhere.  Advised to take 'whatever means he thought proper,' Bellingham obtained two pistols, quite easy in those days, and sat by the fireplace in the House of Commons Lobby.

When the PM entered said Lobby Mr Bellingham quietly rose, walked towards him, produced his gun, fired at Perceval's chest and stood quietly awaiting arrest.

The Prime Minister on the other hand fell to the floor and said "I am murdered."  He was not mistaken.  He did not rise again.

Bellingham dd not run, merely informing all those around him that he had been badly treated and Perceval was responsible for this.  However, now that he had found sufficient justice had been done he was satisfied.

The 'Old Bailey' was satisfied that he was not 'insane' as he pleaded, but guilty of willful murder, and thus sentenced Bellingham to hang.

His greiving wife was however, not left alone.  Public money was gathered and she was provided for, especially as within a year she was once again married.    

I spent some time watching the 'West Somerset Railway' today.  This is what today is called a 'heritage line,' but to many of us it is just a Steam Railway, a remembrance of times past.  Several stations here have live camera's available, though apparently not Minehead where I believe the line terminates.  

Any such line deserves respect.  Many were closed under the famous 'Beeching Report' in the 60's, I wonder if this is what happened here?  Watching two steam engines pull around eight renovated coaches in either direction was quite impressive.  The fact that these locomotives, not always young when bought, had to be paid for by donation, renovated along with coaches, station buildings and track, and all by many part time volunteers is very impressive.  Remember also that such railways cannot cut corners, all British Rail legislation must be obeyed.  Operation at all times must be according to BR best practice, anything else, apart from not being true to life, can be dangerous.  Inspections are tough and costly, each engine must have the boiler replaced every ten years, and that is not just a big job but a very expensive one.    

I had the live shot from Williton on in the background, and it gave me a very good idea of what working on such a railway in past times must have been like.  Certainly there would be more traffic, including goods vehicles, and very possibly a yard at the rear with a large hut and a couple of lines, plus space for coal to be deposited.   

Usually such stations had a Station Master, a ticket clerk, possibly a signalman if they had a yard, maybe in larger stations a shunter engine with driver and fireman also.  There would be two or three porters, and as the station was open most of the day I expect there were two shifts to operate.  Today, at Williton I saw one Station Master, a signalman, and two "cough" not so young porters moving noticeboards and talking to passengers.  Who knows how many volunteers work at the busier weekends or during the summer? 

It appeared to me working on such a line in the past would not be a bad job, though possibly not making the worker rich.  In between trains there may be long periods of silence, broken only by various duties, including at many stations tending flowerbeds, while preparing for passengers and trains to arrive and depart.  Such silence today I found enjoyable.  I suspect that when younger I would be anxious for adventure, now however, I loved the silence while we awaited the arrival of the next train.  Winter time in such exposed areas might be silent also, but I suspect not be so much fun.

Railwaymen in the past did tend to remain loyal to the company, though not all companies treated them well.  Often men followed fathers, and their sons followed them.  A good secure job, with possible promotion or movement elsewhere, and a guaranteed employment for life, after all nothing could overtake the railway, could it?

I notice someone has already claimed the £184 million from the Lottery win last night.  This means nothing to me as you know, though I have checked with all my family, friends, acquaintances and people passing my door, just to be sure it is not them.  I would not wish anyone to be ruined by such sudden wealth...