Fibre Upgrade Fun

Between 8 am and 1 pm the disembodied voice on the phone stuttered yesterday.  We will be attending at this time.  Twice she called to confirm this.

So, at 6:30 I was up, washed, stale bread fed, and waiting.  

When they say 'Between 8 and 1' they mean 'On the dot of 8 am while you are not dressed yet.'

But I was ready!

Here I am, almost 11:30 and still no sign of them!

The place is clean, the space reserved for work, all is ready and nothing is happening.  I now go through all the 'They have forgotten me' worries,' while somewhere up a telegraph pole a man will soon finish his job and come to me... I think...

Of course I was never worried.  I knew he would come well within the time.

This Asian telecom man had the difficulty of understanding my accent, while i struggled at first with his.

He then had to work out how to do the job without upsetting the landlord or the Grade II people at the council.  This he did well.

This poor man did not just have to climb up the telegraph pole, clamber about on the ladder at the roof and my window, but also had to work under my dead among the dead spiders webs to install a wee box to make things work.  It took him just over an hour to do all this, and very efficiently he was too.  A good man indeed.  Now he is again up the ladder clambering about for the flat round the back where they use the same ISP and are claiming the same 'special price.'

My internet speeds had fallen to 17, instead of 55.  This I blame on the phone line which crackles, supposedly fixed a while ago it was the cause of many a rant!  Today, once I inserted that long password, my speeds reached 150!!!   Good grief I canny write fast enough to keep up with it!  

Now almost all has been returned to normal, the rest of the dead spiders webs I have found underneath can wait for now, I can return to some sort of normality.

I also noticed the Bluebells are looking good in the front.  Good also that they appear to be spreading, maybe many more in years to come.

Bills, Bills, Bills...

To please the greedy EON Electric people I've had to stumble downstairs, then stumble further down the dead leave covered, slippy, narrow steps into the dim, dank basement to check the meter.  Brushing aside the cobwebs I managed to work out the numbers (I always forget what to do), scribbled them down, and looked around at the dingy surroundings.

 

 

I always find myself asking what that space is for?  These houses all begin with one room, added to over the years.  When did they dig the basement?  What went in that alcove?  This extension at the rear was rebuilt when the landlord took possession, possibly in the 1990's, I am not sure of the date.  

Old maps show the previous building extension but do not explain what it was used for.  It may have been used far back in the past but the building was bought from a doctors, they used the house as a surgery, I doubt they kept a pharmacist down here.  

 

The original steps down are seen covered in slime and dust and filled with rubbish donated by ex-tenants.  It never ceases to amaze how people feel free to dump stuff when they leave.  The old maps show the extension but at no time do they mention what it was for.  A wash house perhaps, with no water?  Until 1861 water had to be brought from the pump of course.  Nothing in the old census indicates the occupants employment.  There again it is not always easy to identify the correct name at this address, the census writers were not helpful to folks like me.  The latest 1921 census is only available on 'Find my Past,' a bunch of money grabbing crooks they are too.  To check the census itself, giving many but not all details, is £2:50, a copy costs £3:50.  It was free on Ancestry once you paid you dues!
 

Anyway, the numbers taken, back up the slimy stairs I slipped, ensuring the door is shut from rats and other vermin.  Before I creaked back upstairs I took a poor shot of our Bluebells.  Three of these come out annually, they have possibly been doing this for centuries!  Delicate things, possibly the original British Bluebell's which are illegal to pick these days.  The only Blubell's I knew as a kid were the 'Bluebell Matches' my dad bought to light the cigarettes that killed him.  Those bulbs bought now in garden centres I believe are Spanish.  Not that I would know, but Brexiteers may get annoyed.   

I inserted the numbers, once I found my way through the many pages, sent off the details.  Today I find the new bill, this tells me how much I pay and how I am £7 in credit.  I am never sure how these chancers work these things out, but they always come out on top.  Once, and if, the weather warms up of course much less use to be made of the electric or gas.  Hooray!  More climate warming around here say I.

A Walk in Lexden

As always my ideas were good.  I would venture out to Lexden, wander through the park to the 'earthworks' and find if I could a way to the tumulus where an Iron age King, possibly Cunobelinus is buried.  Naturally wandering about in the Bluebell filled woods was a delight, especially as few were about, yet it was not possible to find my way to either object I sought.  The earthworks was behind a fence somewhere in the woods and it was not clear how to get onto the path behind the tumulus, so I let the king sleep and wonder if there was in fact a second way into the woods which I did not find.  I did however pass three bags standing alone at one point.  Either someone was hiding nearby or they were transported by aliens as they passed through the woods though why anyone would carry three such bags through the woods was unclear.

Lexden was a mere village for many years and was referred to as 'Lassendene' in the Domesday Book but was of little importance until the rich Victorians from Colchester a mile to the east moved here to build big houses and enjoy clean air.  Nothing but agricultural work in the rolling hills of the area. Today's large fields are ploughed, seeded by tractor and machinery while in days of yore hard work for the man ploughing with oxen on such hills and then while harvesting later in the year.

Clearly some had been making money fro many years before that time, and being on the main road there was naturally a 'Toll booth' to extract money from passers by and to help maintain the roadway, when they got around to that.  The resplendent house had the name 'Weavers' on the door but this does not look like a weavers type of home.  He may of course have made his money and employed workers elsewhere, there were lots if such in this area.

The churchyard and the woods teemed with Bluebells.  Masses of them crowded together under the towering trees.  Few creatures more however, a few birds flitted among the trees rushing about to feed themselves as they produced eggs and a single squirrel avoided me in a hurry and raced up a nearby tree.

This hill, along with a dead tree and what looks like blocks once used to stop tanks during world war two were ideal playmates for the males of the area.  A nearby tree had an improvised ladder which would have been brilliant had I been a few years younger!  A great place for kids.  

 
Many such trees were all around some around four hundred years old, coppiced by the looks of it for much of that time.  When the rich moved out this area must have been roped off for the 'Lexden Park House' built at the far end, no poor peasant would be gathering firewood from here then.

  

With a wood, a pond and ducks to feed plus acres to run around in this must be a marvellous place during the summer months for kids.  If all this belonged to one family it must have taken an army of cheap workers to maintain the grounds.  

In case there were no ducks or geese around someone has placed four large geese in this corner alongside a tree trunk shaped like a human.  The ducks and one solitary wary Canada Goose sitting close by did not show any appreciation of the artwork to my knowledge.

During the English Civil War (why call it 'civil' when so many died?) Lord-General Thomas Fairfax camped his men here while he laid siege to Colchester.  To the east lie 'Hilly Fields' which appear to contain much woodland now, but which gave a good view of Colchester defences a mile further east. A cannon from the town caused many casualties among the Parliamentarian forces until similar weapons were brought up to demolish the battlements the cannon was based on.  I wonder whether Fairfax used the 'Sun Inn,' now a private house but since the 1500s a busy tavern or whether he imposed himself on 'Weavers' over the way?  Boudica did similar before destroying Colchester a few years before this.  She gathered her troops around this area and then trashed the town.

 
St Leonard's Church, St Leonard was patron of prisoners apparently, was built and remodelled during the 19th century.  Some form of church building had begun sometime in the 12th century but this small agricultural village had little wealth and even by the 1600s the building  was in poor condition.  The present church, of the Liberal Catholic tradition, whatever that is, however is in fine condition and expanding to enable facilities for more to attend their business.  A bit too 'High Church' for me but a pleasant place to sit and talk to Jesus after wandering through the woodland.  It is always good to find such a church open, too many thieves force the buildings to be kept locked much of the time unless someone is attending them.

 

I found it interesting that in spite of the war memorial on the main road there were no individual war graves to be found.  It is possible I missed them, churches tend to let the grasses grow around this time of year to benefit the wildlife which struggle with the loss of farmland and the concreting of front gardens for car parking.  There were several gravestones indicating some of the people who resided here had held important posts during the 'Raj' and wished their grave to reflect their position.  How strange that class is reflected even in death.  However the Braintree weavers Courtaulds would have been pleased as the funerals would have been attended by many leading ladies wearing, and outdoing one another, with black dresses made from the Black Crepe which their local mills manufactured.  

 'Spring Lane' now a quiet side street as the new bypass has taken almost all traffic away offered some delightful cottages, once farm labourers homes now owned by those who can afford half a million I suggest.  The influence of Flemish weavers can be seen on many houses in Essex, their 'Dutch Roof' is a common sight here.  The Victorian semi detached would have been admirable for the farm hand as his several children, two up and two down and an outside loo to yourselves. I particularly liked the old street lamp being used at the side of the house.  The locals have put the old horse trough to good use.  Turning what could become an eyesore into a delightful piece of road furniture.

Waiting on the bus outside what once was the workhouse.  This was built on Jeremy Bentham principles it seems to me.  Four winds reached out from the centre, from here the men in charge could looked down each wing without having to change his position, 'Strangeways Prison' in Manchester was built on similar proposals.  The whole is surrounded by buildings forming a circle with the entrance, for the nice people at the front, I suspect inmates went in the back!  The building is seen on the 1877 map and now of course has been transformed into flats.  I wonder what stories could be told...?

  
   

Morning Cycle

The rolling English countryside early in the morning sun is a grand sight, however if a developer gets his way this grand sight will turn into 1600 houses, plus Doctors Surgery etc.  The old railway walk will descend into just another litter covered backyard for thousands more people.  Since arriving here 21  years ago the population has grown from 30,000 to 40,000, the need for homes and the greed of developers would increase it by 30,000 more if they could.  The fightback appears to be holding at the moment, the first plan was turned down, the new one has faults and hopefully will not go ahead.  There are areas where such housing could be placed, this however is not one of them.

One man who would be happy is the farmer who I presume lives in this house.  He has been trying to sell up for years and who can blame him?  Farming is a hard life and easy money from the EU will end soon with no replacements on offer, even from a Tory Party that relies on farmer Jones and his vote, so selling the land for housing makes sense to him.  He will move far away I'm sure. 
The farmer requires a decent deal but housing will go against the needs of the locals for green space, and this development will join the town to the village and destroy the appeal for those living there.  Quite what the answer to this can be I know not.  
Just a wee bit further up the line they collected money to buy the land and use as a nature reserve, with added facilities for those health freaks looking for a place to exercise.  This is a good idea but money is not available for the land the farmer wishes to dump.  If only I had become the Billionaire I was meant to be...

Avoiding me at a distance were several horses.  The field here often has a horse or two, head down and uninterested in passersby, and I note rarely the same horses.  Maybe he trades them, hires them or just offers a field to feed them in. I don't know why?  The rabbits seem content with their arrival and look down their nose at the camera from a great distance, which is why there are no pictures of them.  This is the edge of the village which will be attached to the 1600 houses if greedy developer gets his way.  

  
The idea of rising early and cycling appeared a good one late last night, this morning it took on a different hue.  However my knees need the exercise so off I went, immediately unhappy about it, and in spite of the early morning traffic, the pain, the chill, I kept going and got some way up the old line before my knees began giving me their opinion of it all.  
The aroma early in the morn of the vegetation, the birds singing while hidden in the trees above, the glimpse of blue in the sky, all made for a delightful start to the day.  A dog was keen to make friends, the owner well she was less keen, while one other dog walker informed me the old industrial estate will soon be 125 houses, including flats!  I must agree with housing there as the place was almost empty of companies and gypsies were moving in, and that means vast amounts of rubbish left behind for others to clear.  Housing of the right type in the right place can be accepted.

Bluebells abound at the moment and it is a pity I am too far from the woods where they cover the land.  Yesterday I was shown pictures of woodland that was a mass of blue from one end to the other.  All I found were the poor wee things outside my door.  

Blossom is beginning to fail.  The bright white on some trees has fallen and these lovely red ones are turning a slight pink shade.  These are not long for this world so now is the time to picture them until next year.  The park was originally a house belonging to one of the rich folks who gave much to the town.  The gardens were very well organised, whoever planned them distributed a variety of trees around the place and after a hundred and more years some are beginning to fail.  The council have cut down several that were diseased or dangerous and have begun planting new ones in appropriate areas.  This blossom is quite new and is flourishing happily, hopefully all the others will do so also.

Home to find carpetlayers in the hall hammering away all day.  Just what my tired mind wants to hear.  However I fed them tea, once only in case they stay too long, and while doing this broke the kettle!  Since buying it there has been problems and now it has failed.  The bin for this and back to Tesco later for a new (cheap) one.  Yesterday I had to go there to replace the iron which died, the water dripped out the bottom alarmingly, and now more money is to be spent.  I wish I could survive as well as the Crows who I found feeding themselves in the town centre this morning.

The Worker

Yesterday I left about 9:30 and noticed this van parked here.  I returned around two in the afternoon and the driver was still sitting here dozing in the cab.  Nothing had changed, no amendments to the road, no other vehicles, nothing.

Then just as the 'rush hour' was ending, the word 'rush' is not be taking literally here, the man got out of the cab and started laying out the temporary lights as seen.  Had he been there all day waiting until six thirty you ask?  It appears so I answer.  

Today I noticed he was still parked there and appeared to have been there all night.  About ten thirty, just after I photographed him he left, scared of MI5 I suspect but he returned later and now sits there bored as can be waiting and waiting while the lights control the traffic.

I wonder why?

Only one part of the road that I can see has been tarmacked over and that is about ten feet by four.  Has he been there all this time for this?  Say nay!  Interestingly I have heard no noise of machinery replacing bad bits of road.  No noise as potholes are filled, no noise whatever.  

I am left wondering who pays for this?  The County Council that's who, and I suspect they know this is going on.  Is this operator a private functionary?  I suspect so, this explains his willingness to sit here for hours doing nothing and not even make use of a mobile phone.  

Maybe I have missed something here, maybe this is a police operation spying on some bad bloke or other.  Wait a minute, who is that looking through my window....?