Camulodunum, Charity Shops, Gays in Gents, Hastening Bus Drivers, War Memorials, and Corn Fields and Blue Skies.

I hesitated about going out today yesterday, I was tired physically but my brain was needing a change of scenery.  Just being indoors I begin to go 'stir crazy.'  So, I trooped of early to catch the 10:20 bus.  We left at 10:28, and not just because of the Zimmer users.  I looked forward to green fields, waving corn, and gray skies.  At least the sky was often gray.  

We had not gone far, just about to leave the town border as a woman with pushchair and 3 years old attempted to leave the bus.  The pushchair was easy enough but the kid would not move.  Mum encouraged, demanded, apologised to the passengers, took his toy, but he would not leave the bus.  Screaming ensued, from him, while we all grinned and laughed.  Mum took action, slinging him screaming over her shoulder and forged her way off the bus.  Everyone laughed, almost all of us have either been the mum or the kid, as it were!

Having left 8 minutes late we naturally arrived one minute early!  Considering we faced three road blockages, one from BT Outreach replacing telegraph poles and digging holes, one from routine road works, and one from traffic blocking cars half parked on road and pavement.  Why not on the pavement, there is no-one around, it's a country house, why block a busy road?  

On arrival I hobbled slowly through one or two remaining charity shops.  Some have gone since I was last here about 4 years ago. It amazes me how things change so quickly.  What were charity shops were now doing good, but expensive business.  How can such shops survive here but not in our town?  

The picture?  I have no idea.  She stands there, marching all in black, along the street, why?  What or who does she represent?  I have no idea.

Having ensured sufficient water before I left I visited the Gents.  While clean and modern they are also these days a meeting place for gay boys.  I entered not long after what I assumed to be a normal man but found him standing right next to a another with several spaces empty.  I noisily, very noisily, used a not so clean cubicle.  A perversion, legalised for the privacy of your own home, now appears to be standard in this Gents as it is in so many others.  If such activity is legal how come they are gathering in such places?  Have they no clubs to meet in, no cafe's, why use this place in an underhand manner.  The man I followed had left as I made for the door, but the early arrival was still there.   I was tempted to say something but would only have caused offence.  At least offence I may not be too unhappy to cause.  However, I refrained and moved on.

Having searched more shops, Millets (nice hats with huge prices), Edinburgh Woollen Mill (Based in Hawick, full of old people and charging £210 for a Tweed jacket), and a walk through Waterstones without looking in case I bought something, I took the obligatory War Memorial picture.  This one says so much about the people of the time, the need to glorify a war in which so many died, the need to show off the towns wealth, and the link to fables as History.  I do however admire the statues on offer, though spiders have been making use of them these days.

I considered rummaging through the crowds, sitting in one of the overpriced pubs, or eating at a greasy spoon café, but decided to run for the bus instead.  My knees had seen enough, nothing worth buying had appeared, and I was realising just how weary I had become.  So, obtaining, for £1:19, a bottle of 'Aqua,' a plastic bottle of cold Romanian water I made for the bus stand.  Romanian bottled water with a Latin name?  Well I suppose since Trajan took over what was then called Dacia in the year 106 AD, the Roman influence has been felt there.  The name, or one similar is attested some 400 or so years back but how Roman the people are today after the last couple of hundred years is anyone's guess. 

The water was almost cold, the bus was almost due, my task was to find it.  Once again the bus stops had changed.  Many people stood staring at the timetables while searching for their bus, their stop and soon their bus passes.  I was one of them!  After some time I worked out what 'Ac' meant, wandered slowly in that direction, found the bus waiting but without a driver.  Several waited, glancing at the watches, while the driver, sitting on a seat nearby, ignored them.  

The bus driver on the 10:20 was a happy soul, this one, when he arrived, was not.  Grunting to the boarding passengers he then treated us to a display of sharp braking, caused by going too fast and suddenly finding a stop required.  Consistently racing along when he could, only to sit in a suitable place and wait while the timetable caught up with him, and he even attempted to avoid one man trying to board as he did not wish to miss the green light at the road works.  We spent an hour being thrown forward constantly until we arrived, still breathing bus fumes in spite of all the open windows, at our destination.  We clambered off, but not as fast as the driver, as he headed for home.  At least we know why he was miserable, the end of a long, warm day driving a bus full of the public!

On the way, while bouncing back and forth, I attempted to make use of my little aged Leica.  This wee camera is old, full of dust, and I was looking through a filthy window that has not been cleaned for a while.  The results as you can see are not great.  I was however, glad to see the fields, though quite a few have been turned into expensive houses for the Camulodunum elite.  

On occasions the sun had shone, the clouds gathered, and after I got home the rain fell.  I let it, I was too tired to care.  I have to realise I am not fit, I and not 32 as I claim, and I canny do too much at the same time.  I must pace my wizened body better.  Last night I ate everything that lay around, finished the Brandy, and slept well.  Today I eat and sleep, while clearing up all those things on the laptop that are outdated or useless links that have long since died.  

In truth yesterday was a disappointing day.  The town itself was quieter than usual, I think they have stopped buses running through the main streets, the shops same as always, most people quite sociable, and half the bus drivers happy at work.  Imagine, not only did I walk through Waterstones without buying, I avoided the other bookshops, the charity books also, and came away with nothing.  I really was too tired!

Charity Shopping Fail

The temptation to grasp the Free Bus Pass for Old people and head out took hold of me on Thursday and saw me carried up to Halstead to search the Six charity shops that lie on the main street.  About 12,000 quite wealthy people and six charity shops?  Sadly the High Street is high featuring a hill that rises steeply up into the sky above where the town first appeared.  Prehistoric man had an small input here, the river at the bottom of the hill helps, who however would wish to walk up and down carrying water I ask?  On the hilltop, the Romans had a villa or two and Saxons settled in well until the Normans took over.  Maybe knowing this causes the people to withhold their smiles while running charity shops?  Maybe it is the rumoured inbreeding on the Suffolk border, I cannot say.

During the year 1818 Samuel Courtauld built himself a Mill at Bocking, he also added this one at top at Halstead.  Worked mostly by women, the men did the engineering bit, the women worked the looms, the mill lasted for years.  Courtauld's went into decline after the war some two hundred years later so the town got quite a bit out of the Mill.  Courtauld's were good employers.  Many women, young ladies, with little hope of a life in London were brought, often from orphanages, into Essex and found themselves a better life.  At least this kept them off the streets!  Over the years Doctors, hospitals, schools and housing were among the benefits this employer gave his workers, these houses here were built for them by Courtauld and other aid when required.
If only more businesses did likewise today?

Abraham Rayne must have been someone important to have such a monument erected above his head.  I failed to find him on Ancestry though I only searched quickly.  I wonder how he made his money, what his work was, where he lived and what people thought of him at the time?  I may never know.
My knees were feeling the strain as I sat on a bus full of 'Downs' kids heading home after a day out.  
I was disappointed with the shopping, there was little on offer, and with nothing else to be seen all I got from the day was aches and vies of crops beginning to edge nearer to ripeness.  That was good.

This morning I stupidly wended my slow way into Camulodunum in spite of the need for sleep and pretty nurses to massage my knees.  I found neither there and a search of the charity shops, some of which have closed down or been turned into profit making enterprises, disappointed also.  However a delightful lady at 'Waterstones' was very helpful as I used up my last book voucher there.  Three more books I do not need, have not got time to read and could live without happened to fall into my hand as I wandered about so I had no choice but to bring them home.  It would be terrible if any more such vouchers turned up would it not?  I would have to go back again!  

One good aspect about the town is the narrow side streets, one of which is full of small shops, a wide variety of items on sale, and some wonder why this town can do this while we back home cannot!  The council backs the small trader here, ours does not, that gives us eight charity shops!  Lower the rates and we will find more small shops arising I say.
Empty handed back on the bus now rather than later to avoid the students from the college.  
It was full of students from the college.
Nothing more interesting than the conversation of 16 year olds!
Knackered and bereft I will spend tomorrow asleep!

The View From Here

The building in which I dwell was erected in 1812, or so my late Landlord told me.  Life then before Victoria came to the throne was I suppose quite different.  Whether the occupants worried over much about that nice Napoleon chap who was spending the year in Russia, a place that rejected him in similar manner to many others taking also the lives of many thousands of his soldiers, I do not know but they were probably more concerned with the goings on at the ‘Big House’ behind or the many farms in the locale.  I suspect the educated women were more concerned with the likes of Jane Austen’s ‘Sense and Sensibility.’  There being no census at the time it is difficult to work out exactly who resided here or how they made their name.  The building indicates some degree of wealth.

Comprised of two dwellings one house would be a quite small but for the day more than acceptable. The smaller would have three rooms upstairs, the larger possibly four.  Modern amendments to the layout make it difficult to understand the original, the rear section being knocked down and rebuilt slightly amended from first.  Questions arise that I cannot answer, most irksome.  Before the car park they could at least get the gardener to grow veg in the rear of the house and possibly kept a horse in a nearby stable.

Had they been the types interested in the world around them I suppose they would have purchased some sort of newspaper or rely on common gossip, and there would be plenty of the latter around. The years happenings would not escape, news travels fast, bad news travels faster.  For a start there were ‘Luddite’ risings in various parts of the country, something they no doubt hoped would be kept ‘up north’ where such behaviour belonged, there was also Lord Byron, home from Naxos to upset married men everywhere objecting to a Bill demanding the death penalty for Frame Breaking at the same time publishing a book, ‘Childe Harold.’  ‘Childe’ as you know being a medieval title of a young candidate for knighthood.  Having travelled across Europe, missing out the bits that were at war Byron says too much about himself in the poem.  Young men sick of the many years wars seeking some adventure in their lives, young men from wealthy backgrounds that is with nobility thrust upon them of course.  Most men wold be lumbered where they were at the time.  Byron of course found distractions, mostly female, and a purpose in fighting a war for Greece, not bad for someone avoiding war.

Farm types would have heard about the meat cannery that had opened in Bermondsey and questions would have been asked concerning whether this was a good idea or not.  The use of hammer and chisel to open such cans would imply a negative approach at first I suspect.

While few would have heard or cared about the birth of Charles Dickens and Edward Lear that year the women of the house would certainly have heard about and been willing to participate in the new dance that swept Europe, the Waltz.  Even Byron mentioned this. 

One event that could not escape notice was the shooting of the Prime Minister Spencer Perceval during May that year by one John Bellingham.  Bellingham had been working in Russia and fallen foul of intrigue and spent several years in prison before being allowed to return home.   His feeling was he had a justified grievance and wished for compensation from the government, something the government was not willing to give.  Having been advised by one civil servant to “Take whatever action you think right” Bellingham obtained a pistol and was noted often hanging around the Lobby of the House.  At 5:15 on the 11^th May as Perceval was making his way to a committee Bellingham stepped forward and shot him dead, the only British Prime Minister ever to have been murdered.  The deed done he sat down and awaited his fate.  At his trial an attempt was made to prove he was insane but the judge disagreed and three days later Bellingham was hanged, he had however for various reasons some degree of public sympathy.

Whether there were arguments for and against the shooting of a prime minister in these houses is unknown but as they trimmed the wick in the oil lamps and huddled under several blankets in a vain attempt to keep out the northern winds hammering against the windows such events must have caused a reaction.  Such things did not occur along this road however the highway to the north did have a gallows at one point where offenders were left hanging about for considerable time, as a warning to others.

I am not sure this worked.

Outside the view over fields would be acceptable, a cow or two roaming there, slow moving traffic on the dirt road, few houses further down leading out of town but as this was the main road to Colchester it may have seen many a traveller pass by let alone the workers heading to and from the fields. 

The road had indeed been a busy one for many a year.  This road was aged by the time the Romans decided to harden it, thus giving it the name ‘Stane Street,’ and enabling their well armed troops to pass on their journey elsewhere quickly.  ‘Quickly’ is not the best word as it is around fifteen miles to Colchester and that was around a day’s march for a man carrying his equipment over his shoulder.  Resting here for the night they would continue West for a day before the next stop at Dunmow a further fifteen miles away.  Long before this traders as well as armies had passed by this area.  The Trinovantes reached over this area even though their capital was in what is now Hertfordshire when Julius Caesar popped in.  Trouble brewed with those to the west and it was Julius who convinced the Catuvellauni to cease attempting to take over the area and remain back home towards Swindon, their home area, this they did but once he retired to Gaul they returned and became lords of the district.  The road was old even then with people having moved around long before the North Sea came into being so possibly ten thousand years have elapsed since this trail changed to a muddy track that soon turned into a major road for the Romans to harden.

An archaeology dig in the centre of town has revealed the road layout from the past with a large centre at the junction of roads from east to west and north to south existing for considerable time. During the creation of a town centre shopping precinct many Roman and Iron Age artefacts were discovered alongside an idea of the homes used by the locals.  Edinburgh, that huge, magnificent and important city has been a powerhouse for over a thousand years yet this wee market town has been around longer, a lot longer.  The meeting place would provide accommodation and respite and in 1108 the Market Charter developed the town economically.  I bet the shops were better then than now.

As I speak cars pass by mostly ignorant of those who have preceded them on this road.  Do people care these days as to who came before them?  Some find History dull but we need to know who came before us to ensure we understand just exactly who we are.  Sadly this upsets our chosen outlook on life all too often and we reject what we see.  Myth is better than fact.  I cannot travel this road without considering the many feet that have trodden before me.  Something I never did in Edinburgh but some time ago I realised we lived on an aged drovers road, a road many had driven their cattle or sheep along for eons before us.  When children we discovered a cave made from a small rocky outcrop that many years before had become a drovers bothy.  There was a clear door and indeed a window therein so possibly this had also been home to someone, a shepherd possibly, one not from afar off but based here, the local castle still has sheep on its land after all.  However as kids naturally we called it ‘The Witches House.’  It may well be hidden amongst trees surround the new well to do housing in that area today.  Whether witches reside there I do not care to know.

The truth is that following any major and many minor roads in the UK we walk in the footsteps of many who have gone before us.  Thousands of years of life, in spite of ice ages, have left their mark. Almost all main roads and many faintly visible today go back millenia.      

   

Camulodunum Trip

Dragging myself out of my pit I raced slowly into Camulodunum today on the zimmer free bus.  This because I wished to peruse the many charity shops in that rich and prosperous town.  This indeed I did but was again frustrated by all charity shops refusal to stock items that fit me!  Usually they are too small, today the only option was to big.  That does not happen often and I suppose I could grow into it but I wish my weight to go in the other direction.  I slogged around even visiting 'Primark' the new shop that sells things cheaply, though I noticed that in the three years since I last visited prices have risen and I am sure the Bangladeshi workers have not had a rise.  Possibly they have made the sweat shops safer since the last disastrous fire there a few years ago.  However I did require cheap jeans and I have them, they fit, sort off, will they after being washed however...?

  
Lunch was taken at noon in a surprisingly quiet pub, £4:65 for a pint of 'Maltsmith IPA' indicates why. The drink was indeed good and worthy of buying again but not at that rip-off price.  It was clear this was an evening venue (Called 'After Office Hours') and aimed at twenty somethings with too much money and not enough brains.       

The modern trend of vast empty spaces and few seats as folks crush together getting cheap thrills and meeting the right people.  The wooden flooring was genuine in pubs I used to visit in days gone by, not s clean and much busier at all times of day, not just overpaid trendy types either.  I suppose we were the trendy types then, sad innit?
Next time I will go back to the 'Hospital Arms' they are just as unfriendly but considerably cheaper.  When I think of it a similar but busier pub down the road was the one I used last time, the beer wasn't so good but cheaper and the girls better looking and alive.  I'll remember that for next time I am charity shop searching.

The bus was of course ten minutes late.  We stood at the stop grasping our varied travel cards and coins glaring hard towards the buses parked just around the corner willing ours to move out.  I retook my seat and allowed the remnants of the beer to chase around my body giving some sort of life to my weakened knees.  It did not liven me up much.  Eventually he  came and I was afraid the women would start shouting at the driver and he would respond by closing the doors and running but they were wise enough to shut it and clamber aboard while they still lived.  

The view, while enjoyable, was not at its best.  The grass in many places has withered and green fields were the colour of the wheat and barley seen in many other places.  Those crops while many were being gathered in are smaller than they ought to be as the several weeks of drought at the wrong time have not helped them.  Here something green, cabbage possibly, difficult to tell when moving, was a decent colour but small in size as seen from the omnibus.  The crops are being gathered and tractors of enormous size block the roads cheerily and very soon such produce will be enabling Tesco to increase their prices 'because of the drought.'  It is rather a shame as it spoils the view somewhat but there again just being out of town and watching the fields instead of the hovel in which I live is a needed change.

"We Apologise for the Delay..."

The sun is shining, it's everywhere, don't have no worries, don't have no care so I trooped off to the bus stop for what the internet told me was the 10:29 bus.  Naturally the Bus station indicator read 10:33.  I waited, he waited, then she also waited but nothing happened.  We stared at the bus station entrance but that did not work until I got fed up of warming myself amongst this lot and headed down to the railway station where I changed my tentative plans and reached for my old man 30% off card.  Colchester it was then and he comes my train as I changed at Witham running on time to take me to my destination.
My knees were not too keen however.

This was not my real intention today as I had t come here many times a few years ago and did not find much enthusiasm for the place.  I had less enthusiasm for the adolescents from the collage wandering about like 16 year old's.

 
The Mill here on the Colne River has been in use at least since the 1100's and possibly from before that.  Most of the time it dealt with 'corn,' that is wheat to you and me, but occasionally had other uses.  Colchester of course goes back to the Romans and before them possibly the site was used early after the last ice age 8000 years BC.

You can see from this how effective the hillside offered a defensive perimeter.  After the Romans rather stupidly did not organise such defences Boudica destroyed the place and Mr Emperor ensured such a mistake did not happen again.  Much altered since it shows just how difficult an attack from ground level would have been.  

Being one not renowned for intellectual stimulus I continued to walk very slowly in heat reaching some say 29%.  The walk around the castle park is indeed long and while my body ached I found I just had to see what was around the corner.  I knew a pill box stood nearby having found it 20 years ago and here it remains.  Blocked off now and impossible to enter it was part of the UK's defences against that nice Mr Hitler who did not bother to visit. 

Situated here on a bend of the Colne it offered the defenders a good view of the river, and I suspect most of the trees had been removed then to give a clear sight to them, it also offered a very good chance of death if attacked as not other pill box stands nearby to cover, unless it stood on the other bank among the new housing estates.

 

If indeed the trees were scrubbed in 1940 they have returned well in the years since.  All around the trees tower overhead and these men in particular impressed me with their height.  That may have had something to do with the blue sky and burning sun behind them of course.

Now remember I just wanted a dawdle in the sun not a twenty mile hike and here I was, at two miles an hour, hurpling along further and further from the railway station and knowing full well that I had miles to go back to get home.  It was however the old desire to see what was round the corner once again that made me limp on.  How stupid can an individual be?  I was aware of many things forgotten since the last sunshine many moons ago.  I ought to have worn the sunglasses glasses not these ones, I ought to have a hankie to wipe away the perspiration that flowed so easily, and I ought to have ensured I had bought a lighter jacket from a charity shop for the summer.
The only bright spot was buying a 59p bottle of fizzy water to carry in my pocket, usually I forget that.

 
This huge building was working when I last passed this way 20 years ago.  The water, with a tidal reach of about 20 feet from what I could guess, was full of suitable working boats.  It is of course now flats!

Next door the building, called 'The Mill' was an interesting sight, also flats and possibly some other noisy use.  I did not venture round to look.

Camulodunum was built on the hill and here at the bottom near the quay stood a variety of aged houses.  The river has been in use for thousands of years and the Romans made good use of it at this point to bring in goods from Gaul and troops from wherever.  This house appears to have been quite substantial in itself and had another 'front' added on to the side facing the road at a point later in time. 

This is more typical Essex substantial house, one that began with a 'hall' and added things as they prospered over time.  I suspect it goes back to the 16th century at least.  

It looks like some rich man has benefited the poor by providing 'almshouses' here.

In the days before Thatcher, sorry the benefits system people often stuck their hands in their pockets to aid the poor, a system that does not exist today because the media through constant propaganda have convinced the nation at large that those on benefits are all scroungers, even if their legs have been blown off and an arrow sticks out of their head, they are fit to work!  Much more of that after Brexit!

The main building supplied all their needs although i suspect this is now accommodation of some sort and the whole place may no longer be for the poor but for the very rich!   It is important when wandering about to look up as above the road there are always signs from the distant past to see.

By now I was aware of how far I still had to travel and my muscles were informing me of my stupidity in a manner worthy of a medical student.  I ached and ahead of me lay 'East Hill' and like most hills this one went upwards.  Not the names, nothing fancy here, 'East Hill,' 'North Hill,' I suspect that is the military influence, still strong as until recently a huge army complex, now housing, lay in the middle of town.  I think I am right in saying the Para's still have places here though this time I saw no army vehicles whatever.

This building intrigued me, a small 'church' looking style of housing with unreadable words above the window.  However my bleary eyes made out the word 'Orphanage' in time, yet another example of church people doing the work the state now does, possibly better!  It was also used as a girls school and was paid for by a Mr A. Diss and cost him £700 to erect!

No charitable person appeared offering to carry me up this hill past the run down aged housing come shops that have stood there for hundreds of years.  They were not built to withstand such traffic rumbling past though the ones on the other side of the road were better built and mostly of a Georgian or Victorian time.

Foolishly I watched as a bus stopped at the bus stop and the driver remained there in an attempt to fit into his timetable.  Foolishly I ought to have whipped out the bus pass and got myself up the hill.  I didn't!  He drove on.
However on the other side sat a large once glorious building now refurbished and possibly an office complex featuring this fine bird high above the road making it obvious what the original company stood for, well not to me!   
In fact the area here is the 'Eagle Gate' one part of the towns defences.  The building was built by the 'Colchester Brewing Company' in 1888 indicating a flow of cash had arrived since 1828. 

Beer was beginning to lodge itself into my temperance mind as I ploughed on uphill.  The I noticed this Georgian (?) building squashed alongside two more showy offerings.

Above the door we see yet another image of Jesus tending his sheep.  The image of the shepherd not really working too well in this concrete jungle in which many live but the fact remains true.  This also must have been an offering towards improving or teaching people, probably young folks.  Do similar works exist today?

Almost at the top of the hill I found St James the Great standing ready to welcome me with open arms, which it didn't last time I passed as it was closed.  This church like so many others would open daily but folks do tend to wander in and pinch things so it was open this time for a small service in the side chapel.  A very nice chap at the entrance encouraged me to enter even though the service was almost finished and so I did and thankfully sat in a pew at the back and discovered my body preferred sitting to walking uphill.

As you might expect this cavernous church has stood here from around the 1200's and most likely a wooden Saxon building stood here before that.   I sat and listened at a distance unwilling to wander about as the wee service continued in the corner.

  
I was hesitant about photos also in this high church anglo-catholic church but I managed one or two.
These long poles carried by the verger during parades in such churches are often delicate artistic items.  However reading about the local church in the 1600's we see the verger/beadles often using their staffs to ensure unruly youths ((forced into church by law and uninterested in what was taking place) paid attention and kept the noise down.  Such churches often have graffiti on pillars as the crowd stood through the service and often found ways to keep themselves occupied.

 
 I left the friendly Beadle and made my way into the edge of town for lunch which comprised one £3:90 worth of Colchester No1 in the rather trendy 'Three Wise Monkeys' 'Tap House.'   Here I was served by an attractive friendly young woman who along with her friend helped lift me out of the soft clinging chairs used to trap folks into staying all night.  At that price right enough I could have bought food!

Staring out the pub window I cogitated on my return to the railway station.  Either through the crowded hot town (always a 'town' here not a 'city' as they wish to keep the dubious accolade of 'England's Oldest Town.'  I decided again my aches crying out to get the bus to wander through the castle grounds, a mistake by the way as it was downhill and I could hardly walk properly as I went down the slope.  Fool that I am!  

After a slog through the uninteresting boring hot streets full of decent houses I took what I considered a short cut and got to the station as quick as if I had gone the other way.  Here announcements informed me as I drank my £2:50 Americana coffee provided by the busy yet friendly lass in the 'Pumpkin' cafe on the platform, that the train was late, very late as it happens, because of signalling problems.  Surely I thought others would also be late until I realised this one came from a different starting point.  'Slow' is a word many of my teachers often used, one or two used other words.  However my carriage arrived as we see here and happily the crowd climbed aboard and I found myself sitting in a suitable seat to get the full benefit of the sun shining through my window, jolly!

 
I have to change trains as on the outward journey and was greatly cheered to find I had arrived seven minutes after my hourly train had departed!  Once again I sat in the sun watching the girls trains go by, once again near to the arrival of my train the repeated announcement that the '15:29 for Colchester Town is running late de to technical difficulties.'  This was running also in front of mine which meant my 15:35 was going to be late as indeed it was becoming the '15: sometime or other' when it arrived.  
I entertained myself by taking pictures of the rabbit in the distance chewing away at the abundance of vegetation on the remains of the one time Maldon line.  No trains here since Beeching and few before that.

The train speedily made it to home arriving at the time he ought to be departing.  I was home by 16:12 aching, hot and bothered, and desperate for food, rest and a massage from an attractive young woman.  One of these has not arrived.
I ache, I was daft in walking so far in the sun, my head is like a beetroot and as hot as an oven, and I am not planning going anywhere tomorrow, bar Tesco that is.  However the change in plans was enjoyable, I love the train!  I met good people, saw interesting things and got out of myself for a while, much needed at that.  So I am pleased but the pictures are snapshots as I was too weary to compose properly and just snapped things I liked.  I missed a great deal.  However it was a good day in the sun.