Yawn!

A hard day at the museum today, very tired, so here is a picture of a bus!   Sorting cards and books, dealing with a visitor or two, answering queries from the people from the 'Friends,' and ensuring I have enough tea to keep me going is very difficult.  A typical situation was the workman who came looking for the ladder.  He was sent to me, who knew nothing, I sent for Jenny who knew nothing, she ask Julie who had sent him to me as she knew nothing!!  His lorry blocked the yard so I ran to the old Town Hall, who we work alongside, and discovered it there.  Such simple things give me exercise and waste many minutes running around when my tea was getting cold.  A 'Do' was under way in the big hall, featuring music and fish and chips, for older folks.  Most would enjoy their day out and it enabled me to get a free dinner as extra were ordered!  By the time I left, two hours or more late, knees aching and mind warped, I had collected another left over one from the leftovers.  Two fish suppers in one day, that's eating!  However now I am asleep on my feet.  The difficulty of keeping my eyes open make it...zzzzzzzz  

Can Things Get Worse...?

After the soup and other disasters my life has provided I hoped for better today. It rained, it was cold, the potato scones stuck to the pan!  Bah!  Still, it couldn't get any worse could it?  

The bright lights are dimly shining in the town.  More are to be switched on soon, and I have discovered I must help out.  Tsk!  Christmas decorations are not my thing.  Puritan Christmas for me, Bah! Humbug and I do allow Christmas pudding and cake, but that is only because of my need to feed my weak brain nourishment.  Santa and snowmen get shove it!  Did someone start singing "Tidings of comfort and joy" just then...?  

Something not very wonderful about this at the moment.  It needs lights and twinkling ones at that to offer a cheery welcome.   I saw this earlier today when I took the holes in my shoes for a walk, I did not intend to walk, I intended to 'bus' it, but I had to walk because of my dementia.  I wandered down to the bus stop heading for PC World.  Now two bus stands er, stand together. Both operate the number 70.  Both arrive around the same time.  One goes to the right, one to the left.  Simple enough for anyone, if they stand at the right spot. As I approached a bus, number 70, stood standing at the stand.  The word 'Chelmsford' entered my head, on the right hand, busless, stand the notice board read 'Chelms Bus Stn,' so I crossed over.  I stood, I looked around, I wondered at the houses opposite, once housing the better off at the turn of the old century, now sometimes whole houses, sometimes flats.  I yawned and feet shuffled while I waited, as did the others waiting. The bus at the stop moved off, it turned left, the destination board read 'Colchester.'  I stared.  Then it crossed my mind that I ought to be getting on the Colchester bus, not the 'Chelm Bus Stn' one!  My trip to PC World drove away uncaring.  I hid my shame by walking away as if I had remembered another date.  With a doctor preferably!

I'm running away.....

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A Better Bus....

A better bus took me to Chelmsford, one of the dullest towns known to man.  The main street has been pedestrianised and today contained several stall offering the usual fruit and veg, bread, cakes and stuff.  None offered coffee funnily enough but 'Costa' cafes appeared every few minutes.  Another wasted search for that jacket, although I did find a chap with a similar search to me.  Neither of us have been satisfied by the major stores.   

Coffee was provided, for £1, at the excellent stall in the Market however.  Not as good as the Colchester chap but better than overpriced 'Costa!'  I prefer such places as this.  

The old entrance to the Essex County Buildings reflects the Edwardian elegance and pretentiousness considered so important at that time.  Around the corner the new portion of the building reflects the modern pretentious style.  I much prefer this door!  Clearly this building did not satisfy the needs of the populace, or their councillors at least as an addition was added in 1929

It is of course the panel on the right indicates Chelmsford Council however I canny find any information on the building and at the moment have too little time to search.  Quite why a rams head, if indeed it is that, sits above the letters I know not, there again there is no reason for another ram or what might be a vulture above the date 1929.  That was of course the year of the Wall Street crash so I hope the builders were paid before people started to throw themselves from 67th floor windows.  I checked the pavements round about but they were no worse than normal.

Along the old canal I wandered, strengthened by the coffee and discovered 'Boris the Spider' hard at work under the road bridge.  My knowledge of such beasties is somewhat limited, usually limited to crying "AAAARGGGH!" and running away, so I am not clear as to the real name of this one.  I have seen lots of these around here and usually have a couple on the windows living of other beasties.  You can keep this one if you like....  

I am much happier disappointing the ducks by not feeding them.  This lot were ganging up to threaten a toddler for his lunch just before I arrived.  Once he had been deprived they looked for other mugs.  I never expected to find a large pond in this area.  An excellent feature and much more interesting, when the sun shines, than the High Street and its crowded shops.  In Primark, a place I never entered before, I discovered an imitation Harris Tweed like jacket for £28.  Not far away a similar jacket, made with slightly better 'Tweed,' cost more than twice as much at a 'reduced ' price.  It crossed my mind that the same sweatshop slave earned fourpence for making both.

Running across the top of the park lies the Liverpool Street Railway.  High above on this excellent viuduct the trains run several minutes late regularly, especially at rush hour when people jump in front of them or lorry drives crash into the weaker bridges!  It was not possible to get the whole thing into a photo, it continues behind and into the distance, but the number of bricks is very impressive and a credit to the men who erected in during Victoria's reign.

As I said goodbye to the ducks that followed in a forlorn manner I headed back towards the bus station grasping my Free Bus Pass tightly in my hand.  However I was distracted by a statue in the distance that at first I thought referred to the Theatre that stands nearby.

With the light right behind the poor souls head it merely leaves him a dark silhouette but this man holding the 'lightning flash' in one hand and what looks like an old fashioned phone in the other is Guglielmo Marconi, the inventor of 'wireless.'  He in fact was not the actual inventor but he did play a serious development role and created a successful factory in the town that survived until recently.  It may still be found as part of GEC, if that has not died also.  You may recall him as the chap who sent a wireless signal across the Atlantic to Newfoundland, in spite of opposition from the men running the Telegraph system!  

Naturally I missed the bus!  As I approached I noticed the bus maneuvering about in a tight space.  Quick thinking, and a fast walk against my will, took me around the corner to the next stop which I reached, puggled, by the time the driver had made it past the traffic lights.  I was quite proud of my quick thinking.  I could tell by his snigger the driver had watched my attempt at speed and did not mistake me for that Bolt fellow.

I snatched this picture of the 'St Annes Castle' as we sped along because I noticed the sign on the other wall claiming that this was 'The Oldest Inn in England,' with a date that I think may have been possibly 1171.  I began to wonder how many other 'Oldest' Inns there may be, there is always a pub claiming to be the 'Smallest,' and how many can claim 'Elizabeth Ist Stayed Here!' Claims such as these have limited evidence but one of the must be right.  Inns such as this, on a road probably going back long before Roman times, must have carried many travellers requiring sustenance, so it is possible it was around a thousand years ago.  Here is the pubs own information regarding its age.   The place is mentioned in the Domesday Book, which you will recall, though not from personal experience, was written in 1086.  I may go down there to check it out one day myself....          

                                       

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Now I'm not one to Complain, but.....

I went down to board the 'Worst Bus' this morning and found it living up to it's name.  Who, I wish to know, considers using a single decker bus on a busy route that includes hordes of degenerates heading for Sixth Form College?   The bus filled with them, and at each stop, so many stops, more got on each one absorbed in his 'iPad' (who pays?), 'Walkman' or discussing (loudly) their lives with their neighbours!  The ability to absorb knowledge concerning the important subjects that cause the poor dears such trauma come exam time appears not to include an ability to move from the front door of the bus until the driver chides them, blocking access or escape, and general consideration for others!  Bah!  In my day we had jobs and kept the wheels of industry turning, none of this needless education until we sign on for three years for my generation.  On top of this the brats had the best seats, my late arrival meant I had one of those low slung seats where the sun is enabled to burn your face as you travel.  Oh joy!

Naturally all these creatures left the bus at my stop thus blocking the pavements for miles around and folks with important shopping had to force their way through as they discarded their breakfasts across the streets.  However was it worth the effort?  No it was not!  The desperately required jacket was not available in any shop that I entered, well once or twice something similar was on offer, at prices ranging from £65 - £180!!!!!  Yer having a laff pal!  In BHS (I think, they all look the same to me) not only did they almost have what I wanted, almost at the price I might pay but having a stand of some sort of cards next to the jackets, so close that I knocked the some off the rack, picked them up, as others fell, picked them up, carried on with my research while knocking more cards, hooks they were hanging on and then more cards off the rack, which I then just dumped on the floor under the stand.  Enough looking at their prices with restocking their display stands I thought.  No member of staff moved, or appeared to care.  I lost interest in the jackets and there were no lingerie nearby to ensure I remained in that store either!

  
The 'Castle' is undergoing a major renovation that must be costing millions of pounds.  Our little museum will be doing similar shortly.  The miserly government that happily encourages massive losses on privatised industries, MOD spending, and Tax dodging by their friends, has cut funding for 'Heritage' projects UK wide.  No moneyed friends in this business obviously, so all such organisations have to go into debt to prepare for self funding.  Many will close I foresee.  This little exhibition in the gardens can be given a well deserved Gold Star in my view.  They may have stolen Edinburgh's Chinese Pandas but they have done this very well.

St Botolph's admirable doorway.  Standing next to the old priory ruins mentioned earlier this year this impressive building is hidden behind the main road.  Once upon a time it must have been in an open space I reckon.  I called this 'impressive,' but really is dark gray, darkened by years of smoke soot, really the best brick to use for such a building?  At least this building is still in general use. 

It's tower is quite tall, too tall for my wee camera.

Good news and bad news!  The good news is the discovery of a proper bookshop!  Hooray!!  The bad news is the fact that it is closing down!  Boo!!  The only real bookshop, and this is a very real bookshop, in Colchester is about to end its days.  The owner is retiring, not going bust, so the shop surely can continue, however no-one is keen to take over and keep the shop open, this is very sad news indeed.  The shop contains lots of shelves, lined up in such a way as to make browsing enjoyable.  Books of all types are found there, even in boxes on the floor, with much more upstairs.  A proper bookshop with knowledgeable friendly staff and with no intention of buying books today, indeed I rushed about the Oxfam Bookshop with a less than friendly member of staff, as books were not in my mind today, yet I found myself missing my bus having browsed with no intention of buying for forty minutes.  As however the shop is closing and all books a re Half Price I managed to buy three for a mere £5, less than I thought as I did not really calculate the cost as I browsed, very unlike me I hear you say.  A wonderful place to go, especially when you have not found a proper bookshop for many year.  Want an investment?  Buy this shop!

St John's Gate is all that remains of a Benedictine Abbey built C.1400.  After the 'Peasant's Revolt' in 1381 it was decided to strengthen their defences, how these folks helped the poor eh?  After the English Civil War and Henry VIII all that remains is this gate.  Does it go anywhere?  I know not as I had no time, or energy, to clamber over all the roads to find out.  Shooting into the sun is not easy, especially as I had to cut out the road signs that made fitting the gate into a picture.  

At the bus station I decided to stay alive by spending big on a coffee.  Normally I would not waste my cash on such, grossly overpriced coffee from the abundant cafe's never appeal to me,  yet as I was close to death after running around I considered it worth a gamble.  "Cheapest Coffee Please," I requested, and was given the cheapest (£1:50) by the helpful friendly chap at the stall. Poor man, his sales are increasing while the weather deteriorates but he also is suffering from the weather, which will make him deteriorate as time passes.  However the coffee was good and kept me alive, much to many others displeasure, and I may well head for this place next time I am in town.

Happily the bus home appeared as a double decker!  I smiled smugly to myself and soon lost the leering grin as other degenerates appeared from cracks in the pavement and boarded in their turn.  At least upstairs I got a decent view from the front, everything looks better from high up. However the bus decided to pick up all the old folks with free bus passes ("cough!").  They take their time boarding, each stop provided more of them, and indeed at each stop we stopped!  I was beginning to wonder if we would ever leave the town and arrive at the countryside again.  After a short lifetime, and I have had a few of those, we eventually found the open road.  This, naturally, was blocked by a rubbish lorry and the following parade of vehicles each one determined to get through in spite of the bus blocking their progress!  Bah!  

When we eventually arrived at the village with its narrow streets we found a white van man buying his lunch.  His van allowing cars past but not our bus.  The driver had to get out and chase him from 'Spar' before we could continue.  Arriving in town again and dreaming of lunch he stopped the bus on the outskirts and switched off the engine.  Sighs, deep and heartfelt, were heard throughout the bus.  We have all been there, the bus stops and an announcement, "We have broken down, a replacement will be along soon."  The bus companies use of the word 'soon,' might breach the trades description act!  However after a radio conversation including the words, 'red button comes on,' and 'bus station,' we began to believe we might make it home.

We did, and I decided that I will adjust the hours in which I travel, but I must travel back there, the bookshop closes in October and it is a great shop.  Now I must find some money for my next trip, and I forgot all about the jacket....

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Warmed up Leftovers

Ah!The open road, the sunshine, the fields, the people left at the bus stops because the driver was talking on her mobile to her friends!  How lovely to travel, on an empty bus!  How lovely to have a bus pass also! 

The clock has adorned the tower of St Peter's since 1866 and if you look closely you will see the words 'Redeem the time.' Also above these are the two keys, usually associated with Peter as he was given the keys of Heaven and Hell.  The Roman Catholic Pope of course has usurped this and claimed descent from Peter, no matter that Peter was never Pope!  This of course is an Anglo Catholic church so it is no surprise to see this thereon.  In 1692, long before you were born, this area suffered an earthquake. This upset the steeplejacks who were working on the tower when this event occurred.  Their first reaction was not recorded but they did inform the world that an opening large enough to put your hand in appeared in the tower.  Little real damage was done, although a chimney pot was lost in one house, and no doubt a more willing attendance at church on the following Sunday!  Such events do occur occasionally in the UK, usually most people sleep through them as these are minor events, but on occasion people notice.  

Can you read it now?

Essex churches are a good way to reflect history.  The buildings themselves are amended during different periods, sometimes on government authority, the memorials reflect those who attended and often considered themselves important in the Parish, and the cemetery itself reveals much about the locals of times past.  In prominent place here at St Leonard's in Lexden stands an impressive Great War memorial.  Today we find the phrase used on these memorials, 'Our Glorious Dead,' somewhat embarrassing, however for those who lost relatives, and middle class areas such as this would lose many officers during the war, a great desire to see their loss as worthy appeared.  With the vast numbers who died it was imperative to see their deaths as required and not wasted, people argue about that still.  There are 38 Great War names on the memorial and somewhat surprisingly 32 from the Second World War. Usually the Great War numbers far outweigh the second.  What does that tell us I wonder?

The church began here in the 12th century when, and I kid you not, 'Eudes the sewer,' promised to two thirds of the tithes to St John's Abbey in Colchester.  In those days the church was keen on those who offered cash!  By the 1400's when they were offering the Gospel the church authorities were less keen however.  The Lexden church was one of the richest 'livings,' for many years. This reflects just how wealthy the land around this area could be.  Crops and cattle predominated in early days but sheep appeared around the 16th century. A surprise this as Suffolk, just up the road, became rich on the wool trade in the early medieval days.  During the days of Reformation the usual infighting occurred between various sides of the debate and by the time all this has settled down the building itself was becoming somewhat careworn.  In 1822 a new building was erected and a new chancel added in 1892.  The buildings around this are comprise not just many from medieval days but a large number indicating the wealthy Victorians found this town to their liking.  The road from here into Colchester proper is lined with what can only be called mansions and these were added to in the early years of the 20th century.  A great deal of money was around this town!   Some of these can be glimpsed on Google Maps.

Glimpsed as the bus crawled home behind a queue of traffic, probably that tractor from yesterday still heading for his field, we see the harvest gathered, the hay bales rolled out, and all this from one machine completed in one day. Thomas Hardy would not understand farms today just as I never understood nor read much of his boring books. From the Open University days I recall his story concerning a threshing machine, based on a report of the time regarding a threshing machine.  The engineer who came with this machine came from the north, probably Yorkshire, and sounded a rough, sour bloke.  Going from farm to farm he aided their work and made few friends.  There were umpteen hands to deal with the threshing then, one combine today!

A place I must take my wee camera to lies five miles down the road, depending on which road sign you read.  This large village has many medieval and on houses, a great deal of money also as antique shops used to dominate here. The TV series about a flash antique dealer in the 1990's was filmed around these parts, what was that single word name?  I admit I never watch that sort of thing but would look just to recognise the background.  Maybe if the sun shines this week I will get the bus pass out again.  The clock tower?  No, I don't know either!

OK, class dismiss.

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Big Town and Wildebeests.

In my desperate search through all the charity shops in the big town, oops! Big City now of course, I hold certain truths to be self evident.  The first being that shops are filled with wildebeests, hundreds of whom appear desirous of deliberately getting in my way, that they block aisles, noisily fill the streets and on occasion serve behind the counters of shops.   On reflection I am now wondering whether that bus driver is related to one also.  Of course it could just be me couldn't it?.  
It is also in my opinion a self evident truth that charity shops stock jackets that are just what I am looking for but in the wrong size or dreadfully wrong colour.  I can understand why some of these have been donated, but whether the owner knows his wife has donated them is another thing.  Mentioning this to the staff of such shops does not bring much of a caring response I noted.  
Another self evident truth is that men are responsible for the layout of department stores.  This is proved by the clear and deliberate carefully thought out policy of placing all lingerie departments next to Menswear!  It took me half an hour, and with the aid of one quite unhelpful security officer, to find my way to the (reduced price) jackets in one shop.  I suppose privatised security services have their place but they ought to be more choosy regarding the women they employ, I will have a bruise there in the morning!  
To escape the stampeding throng I wandered along the canal pathway only to find it also bore the stampeding masses.  Families were being taught by attentive parents how to walk in front of people, talk loudly and generally get in the way of those attempting to make a photograph on a gray day.  How lucky Scots are today, their schools have gone back!

Some folks found that by hiding themselves in the abundant wilderness they remained generally undisturbed by those passing by.  Whether he caught much I doubt, a quick glance in the water showed only small fry lurking and not many of them.  Still it is a place to relax and allow the stresses of life to desist for a period and the mind can refresh itself with the flora and fauna around.  Strange they way we respond to people.  Had I sat there for an hour or so some folks would have thought I a bit crazy or a bit dangerous, single men being regarded this way because they are alone for some reason.  There again a single woman may not be regarded as 'dangerous' but how would people see her I wonder?  Anyway stick a fishing rod in the hands and the man becomes safe as he is just fishing and for the most part will be ignored.   Of course this man may just be hiding the fact he shoved his wife in earlier.....

  
On the way to meet up again with the cheery bus driver and hopefully none of the men loudly telling one another of their hip replacements and other injuries I perused the main library and decided I need to spend time there soon as I noticed it has some interesting, relevant books I would like to investigate.  All those things I wish to do yet little gets done.  I have a list a mile long of things to do, things I wish to do, things I must do and things that probably will need doing, but I canny be bothered.  
Today for instance I get two calls asking me into the museum to replace sick folks and there l am acting as zoo keeper miles away.  I will be in there tomorrow afternoon although the walking today did my knees no good at all and I would rather just lie about for a while.  Hopefully I can just sit there dealing with the often unusual and interesting questions that people bring.  There was a time I would walk around for hours, now an hour or so and the postman's knees play up and that is a real sickner.
As I crossed the road from the library, having obtained my dinner from the cheap butcher next door to the barbers, one Mr Todd I think the name above read, my eye caught sight of this emblem on the wall.  Once the entry to who knows what, probably the old town hall and offices, now the back end of a car park, the wall carries the county emblem ending its days in some degree of obscurity.  All behind has been demolished and the car park might remain or become part of whatever development is being erected there.  Hopefully this wall will be retained as the emblem looks good and ought to be carefully refurbished.

 
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MORE SHOPPING WOES!

So you don't like me shopping? BAH!  I went anyway!

It was rubbish! 
The Oxfam shop exists here, it remains overpriced and did not have what I want!  Waterstone's here had more floor space and more books I didn't want, but found two I can suffer.  Almost no bookshops left in this country, even the second hand ones are mostly charitable types now.  Amazon has much to answer for!

Still I got 'Annals' by Tacitus (or Takitus if you prefer) plus 'Britain BC' by Francis Pryor.  Also having passed two folks with flu I expect to get that also, Flu hates me with a passion.  I'm convinced virii and germs recognise me wherever I am.  There are ancient canals in boring  Chelmsford, the bridge is dated 1787, the one below I mean, as that is the year the canal opened, and runs over the River Can which leads tothe Basin.  The green one is considerably later and not so attractive.  From Chelmsford basin, now a nice walk in the sunshine, the boats would make their way to the Heybridge Basin near Maldon.  Horse drawn barges, very romantic but commercially slow, carried 25 tons of grain, flour and whatever to the coast, bricks, coal, timber etc were brought back.  The horse were used until the 60's even!  The commercial side ended in 1972,unusually the rail links did not compete with this canal and that is the reason for its survival.  

I attempted to take pics of the fabulous wee houses I passed but the bus moved too fast and only this one in a village survives.  T last time I was in Great Leighs, about 15 years ago I cycled around the back roads visiting the tomb of the Reverend Clark, he of 'Echoes of the War' fame. Then it was a small place, with lots ofinteresting wee houses and people watching through the net curtains as I passed.  Today it has swollen enormously owing to housing development.  You get a glimpse of such housing development in this picture here.  I know what I prefer.  Other villages have kept the developer at bay and houses from several hundred years ago deserve a visit in the summer.  If I'm free that day!

I hurried up the road to get the quarter past bus, which naturally did not arrive.  The highly sophisticated timetable has been well presented, it just forgot to add the bus might not arrive!  The first time I visited London I was somewhat taken aback to see the timetables on the stops informing us the buses arrived 'every fifteen minutes, but it then told us the times may not be adhered to!  That would never have done for Edinburgh!  

As I headed for the bus in a rush I passed this place.  Typical of many pubs in the London area and looking very neat today.  In stead of standing freezing in the bus station (why do they build them in such a way as to invite cold winds?)  I should have been in here. The bus arrived at twenty to the hour!  Bah!  

Still awake.....?  

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The Big City, in Comparison....

Early this morning, clutching my FREE Bus Pass, I wandered down to the bus station go shopping in the big town.  I had the choice of two towns to visit and against my better judgement I went into Camoludunum.  There I planned to visit Waterstones, a second hand bookshop, a Christian bookshop, a shop selling almost every odd thing you need but don't have, and acquire a couple of T-shirts to replace dying stock.

From the off there were problems.  For a start the driver did not want to let me on.  
"Is that your dad's pass?" He asked brusquely.  
Tempting as it was to agree with him the woman behind me, whom I once delivered mail to, intervened.
"Nah! He's a miserable old git right enough!" She said somewhat too eagerly.
As I climbed the stairs I mused on how willingly the driver accepted her opinion! Bah!

Ah, upstairs on a bus!  An unusual experience these days for me.  Useful for looking into passing gardens and people's windows, seeing life hidden from normal view and giving a new outlook on the world.  Few others joined us, half term means kids are out and about but few joined us today I'm glad to say.  Two grans brought two primary school kids to the front seats and almost immediately a chinky bloke sat alongside them.  Seconds later the male child was sitting on his knee as a joke, and I noticed the grans holding their handbags cudgel fashion.  When I next looked one gran was quietly sitting behind him.  Subtle.  He was no danger, the man was just socially unaware, as he would soon be made aware if the women misunderstood.

Passing through a village I noticed once again the quaintness of the ancient houses, the narrowness of the road compared to the size of a double decker bus, and recalled that while this place looked interesting the people were, somewhat insular!  English you see, they are not egalitarian like what we are.  During the plague this village blocked the road with barriers to stop the plague getting in!  I must go back there, when the sun shines, and have a browse at the prices in the shop windows.  Sadly the day remained overcast until I was heading home again, and wee villages require sunshine.  The quaint houses compared badly to the shopping centre some miles further on, in particular the new 'Sainsburys' that surprised me by its size!  It was as big as a football stadium!  On the other side stood a 'Boots' with a 'Drive Thru Prescription' service!  Now excuse me but who uses that?  Do you phone up and order the bottle of 'embarrassing stuff' and drive in the side door so no-one can see you?  Typically it is spelt badly, must be Yank inspired.

As we neared town I cleaned my glasses for the third time.  Vision had been quite misty up till then.  It was as I cleaned I realised it was the sleep in my eye, not the film on the glass!  In the town stood a field, several trees, planted a few years ago, stood knee deep in long grass.  Behind them stood goalposts, just the one set, surrounded by a deep layer of brown mud.  No accompanying set of goals were to be seen.  This reminded me of the difference between the British Isles attitude to the beautiful game, and Johnny foreigners approach.  The proper approach is the one we took when young.  A couple of jumpers were deposited as goals, I would take my usual place as goalkeeper, and the rest would spend time crossing the ball in or playing a kind of defence v attack format with one goal only.  However in places like Spain and Italy, where the sun shine most of the year, young men get a ball, meet in a park and do not set up goals.  Instead they pass the ball, dribble, experiment on fancy ball control, and the like.  Technique is all, while getting on with the game was our idea!  The result is the better control of foreign players, and their goalies constant struggle while dealing with crosses.  The British drive is missing although in the south high temperatures mitigate against that.  The cold means we need to run about quick!  A simple thing those posts, but they speak loudly about our game.

I alighted the bus as we entered the centre, a mistake I was to discover later.  Heading straight for 'Waterson's'  I clutched tightly my Book Token given to me at Christmas by a sensible, intelligent young lady, and began to search for something worthwhile, educational, cheap, historical and to suit my exquisite taste, I failed!  They had a few good books right enough but none suited today.  The only decent bookshop in town and I could find nothing!  Shock!  However disappointed as I was I continued on to the Christian bookshop down the road and failed to find it.  It had turned into a shop full of junk furniture and was closed!  Two down, but   was I downhearted?  Yes!  I wandered through the centre, much more interesting than boring Chelmsford I must say.  Lots of interesting shops that appeal to women, and few closed or turned into charity shops, those were found in the lesser streets.  I wandered about this interesting town centre, still showing evidence of Roman organisation in these street patterns, disappointed by the charity shops books also, much better choice than here in this town but not what I wanted.  There used to be an 'Oxfam' bookshop in town, but that was no longer to be seen either.  The odd bits shop I dreamed off I then discovered had closed down!   I began to realise why the temptation to visit boring Chelmsford was so strong!  I was not meant to be here.  Off I trotted downhill to the secondhand bookshop.   I became somewhat worried when I espied an 'Under Offer' sign on the side of the building.  I then noted the 'Books at £1' sign and the closed door and shut gate! The place was closed!  It appeared to me that the M&S T-Shirts I was intending to buy might not be a good idea.  If I found the store I might close it down by attempting to shop!   However, in amongst a lot of poofy a variety of merchandise I found the boring T-shirts I required.  If these fit they might not shrink this time.

One place I did find was the Priory, a ruin  that stands in the middle of town, and was erected around 1100.  That's not eleven in the morning, I mean the year 1100.  An interesting ruin which I must read up on and I will mention this later as my dinner is burning as I write.  Nothing new there either. 

The journey home began badly.  The bus station was not there!  Someone had closed it down and moved it elsewhere.  I should not have got off where I did.  Eventually a nice man told me where to go, as opposed to less nice men who have told me where to go willingly in times past.  Once at the new station I boarded after a short wait, again accompanied by the socially unaware chink who chose to sit behind the adolescent brat in the front seat even though the bus was empty. Brats mother ignored his placing his feet on the window ledge, something my folks would have never allowed, and her desire to phone a friend and allow us all to enjoy her loud conversation gave cause for concern.  The concern being I had forgotten my chainsaw!  However I sat happily as the sun shone brightly in the window, indicating the soon return of Spring, hooray!  Being upstairs I noticed all those small items, names, carvings, (I canny mind the word) found between windows on Victorian homes, and there were many.  Some were painted, some not, many were intricate and while copied from a pattern book were worth a look.  So were the 80 or so Mercedes Benz parked awaiting customers during these austerity days.  However I suspect that austerity or not they will not be there long.  As the bus began the journey home I also noticed the Oxfam bookshop.  I had walked past the new, larger shop twice.     

I will have to visit boring Chelmsford now, bah!


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Bus Pass

Tour Scotland

I have my bus pass.  Another sign that the years are passing is the ownership of a Free Bus Pass for old folks.  This is indeed a boon for those desperate to get about the world and short of cash, indeed it is, but it means I am old.  
I sent of the picture, included my birth certificate (I mistook it for my dad's at one point until I realised I did not possess my dad's birth certificate!) and awaited a response.  Within a few days the paperwork returned.  Within another few days the credit card sized Free Bus Pass also fell through the door.  
I'm old.
I think I need a walking stick and a bottle of 'Sanatogen.' 
The problem is the bus times.  I looked them up today, and while there are frequent buses to where I ought to go it takes for ever!  Journeying into the big towns takes about an hour, which I expected, but even dawdling six miles away takes almost 45 minutes!  The bus passes through little villages full of yokels, trundles along country lanes, and takes for ever!  

Now you will realise a problem with this.  Sitting on a public transport omnibus means that the public will clamber aboard said bus and behave like the er, public will do.  This is the very reason the members of parliament were to willing to forego their first class tickets on the trains, they would have to meet the public!  I need not remind you there are no first class seats on a bus.
The last time I went on an hour long journey on a bus the women who boarded discussed Uncle John's foot for most of the journey.  I need not inform you of my opinion of this needless (loud) chatter, especially Uncle John did not belong to any of them but a next door neighbours friend over the roads, neighbours brothers uncle John!  
The return journey was badly times as the bus filled with adolescents from a collage who wished to play bad music (Tish Tosh Tish etc) on headphones, discussed their wishfull thinking love lives, and reminded me where I left my chainsaw.
    
The other niggling problem is that I look 25.  This means the drivers will not believe the card is mine.  I foresee many an argument ahead here. However the good side is that I may travel anyway, and this means photos from places as yet unseen!  Isn't this good?
What? ....oh! 

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Blue Skies

For reasons unknown this RAF Sea King Air,Sea Rescue helicopter flew over us today while I sat enjoying ten minutes in the hot sun, the last of the year probably.  I attempted a picture and found the sun so bright I could not see through the viewfinder and I just guessed where the brute was.  On the original pic it appears as a dot in the corner!  How difficult is it to capture a flying craft while right over your head?  This blurred image is all I can make out of it.  The ferocious sun has disadvantages after all.  I could see nothing whatsoever through the viewer, and could not see him even as a dot in the sky. I obtained an even worse shot when he returned some time later, blurry is the word.  Maybe it is my eyes?  I am left asking why was he overhead?  Near the coast this is not unusual to see, occasionally it is possible to watch them rehearse lifting survivors from the sea.  Not much call for that here.  I wonder if it was that William man using his machine to run home to Kate for a wee break?  The visit probably only cost £10,000 but that's OK.  

The Olympics are over, the Paralympics finish tonight and there are millions of women who usually hate 'sport' in all it's forms now demanding more of this on telly!  Anything is better than the dross that fills the screen normally.  I watched a documentary on Egypt the other day on the BBC iPlayer, the way I usually watch BBC these days, and was peeved.  The man never stood still!  Every new scene found him walking up a street, coming up stairs, through a door, at no time did he just stand there and speak!  This is a constant feature of such programmes today, movement is all, flash images and a movable presenter, it has become difficult to follow the story as we are made to expect him to jump up and run off before finishing a sentence.  It seems to me radio is becoming the only place to follow a documentary today, we can see the image in our mind better there.  

Now I am not one to complain as you well know, even though it has taken me until now to get over my exertions at the museum on Friday, and in fact complaining has never been an important part of my life, unlike folks who use the local bus service a lot.  No, I prefer to let things slip and lead a quiet life.  However I did find myself beginning to get irked by Craig Leveins use of the 4-5-1 system while at home to Serbia on Saturday.  Goodness gracious I thought, one innovation from the tried and trusted failures of before, Robert Snodgrass on the right side.  At least that was clearly working, that is why he was replaced with the clot Forrest!  I note also that Dixon never got an opportunity while at Dundee United but now he plays in England he gets a cap?  Black & Templeton on Tuesday I wonder?

    
Some of my readers may well be interested in this, not for themselves perhaps, just to remind another to exercise more and eat less maybe?

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The Thursday Bus

The Edinburgh Reporter

I found a book on my shelves, under several inches of dust, which detailed the history of the bus in Edinburgh. Now that's what I call a bedside book!  Even better it was full of pictures of buses, horse drawn, cable pulled, electric trams and the delightful buses Edinburgh has always been proud to use to deliver the citizens from one place to another.  Since deregulation under the Mad Cow Thatcher things have naturally been made more complicated, less service orientated and much more expensive, but what else would you expect? The book contained many pictures of the city I remember. Much has been demolished yet just as much remains unchanged, bar the increase in traffic. These evoke memories and while I am not usually one to seek photographs of buses in a manner I might use regarding steam trains I do find something attractive with those that originated in the 1930's.   

This beauty and her friends arrived in Edinburgh at the end of the war and with a subtle change of body survived into the 60's.  I do not recall seeing this type but I often used them in the new body shape.  I believe these were 'Guy Arab' buses.  Our bus, and there was only one, was a single decker with the open door at the back.  Unfortunately no picture in Edinburgh colours can be found online tonight. The conductor was a 'Pole' we were told, although he may well have been from the Baltic States, as many of these men remained safely in Scotland after the war.  Those who went home were shot by Stalin! This single decker came over the bridge up the road, collected passengers as it trundled noisily along, and after we alighted it turned a corner and parked up, a journey of ten minutes at most.  A short rest and the bus returned back from where it began, on the other side of that bridge.  I used to wonder why we got the same conductor so often, these two were the only men on the bus, and traveled up and down all day!  This lasted about two years before the service was extended.  By 1960 the journey was a wide circle tour of Edinburgh taking in a huge swathe of the city. 


'The Edinburgh Reporter,' is something I have just come across. Their story concerning the bus depot is the type of daft thing hat I would be interested in viewing, had I been in Scotia's capital.  Sadly I sit in poverty in a cold room awaiting a rainbow to arrive outside my window with a pot of gold at the bottom of it.  The only time I ever saw the bottom of a rainbow I discovered there was no pot of gold awaiting me.  Instead there was just a run down bus shelter, and that was not worth awaiting for! 


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