Zimmer Bus Day

 

I took a risk in clambering aboard the Zimmer Bus this morning, what with it being half term I expected the bus to be full of kids but as it turned out only one was seen.  She sat at the front with mum and placed 14 stuffed animals on the window in front of her and played with them all journey long.  Thankfully the rest either were away on holiday or found something nearer home to keep them out of trouble.  Most I suspect are rich enough to have a car and drive the brats out of town to a beach or parkland somewhere. 

A quiet journey other than the kid in the front seat and we passed the fields full of green crops awaiting the time to turn golden.  Quite a contrast, the green fields with gently swaying crops on either side of a narrow road full of traffic, much of it heavy traffic at that.  The major roundabout where every main road meets causes several mile tailbacks but just wait until the same fields are given over to the new 'little town' they wish to plant there.  Another entrance to add to the roundabout perhaps, or merely yet longer tailbacks as planners are ignoring the road system being over full even now?  

I am not sure what the three trophies on that sign are supposed to represent.  I am not clear as to whether it is new made to look old or an old sign slowly dying.  I never even looked into what the shop sold.  It did stand out from the Town Hall tower behind and I thought it worth a shot.  I looked into the proper bookshop just before this and forced my hands behnd my back and myself out quickly enough, I am reading three books and have ten more lined up so spending cash on more was not a good idea.  I could not however walk past the bookshop, it kind of dragged me in! 

 

This snatched pic from the bus sums up Camulodunum for me.  On the one hand there is the church tower going back centuries, old buildings, great history, residing alongside derelict shop fronts like this one.  What ought to be a well run tourist town, they refuse to be called 'city' as they claim they are the 'oldest town in England,' is ruined for me by being crowded, dingy and choked by traffic.  Add to this the number of what are called 'homeless' and the place takes on a grubby run down appearance.

The town appears to draw the 'homeless' like no other and I do not understand why.  On a sunny day it is not unusual to see a man, wrapped in blackets or old sleeping bag, sitting in a dark, damp underpass begging for handouts.  Some feel sympathy but I sense a chancer!  No-one begs just anywhere, certain places are money spinenrs and this is one of them, though not much spinning when I passed.  Too many offer coins to such beggers to ese their conscience, some from care and others thinking they may help such people.  All too often they are conned.  If you really wish to help homeless people then give at least £5 a month to a suitable organisation that works amongst them.  That way those that can be helped out of this lifestyle, and who knows what got them into it, these will be given help.  Those that do not want out can be left to it and many chancers who take home good money to add to JSA benefits or just live of the takings can be avoided.  Some of course, and I have a little experience of them, some need really professional help and a few coins may not do them any good.  If the conscience hurts offer a 'Mars Bar' or some such rather than money. Not much can be done about the traffic however, unless banning it all bar buses and taxis can be tried.

This young Starling was having trouble landing on the feeders, he ought to be able by now he comes everyday, and instead filled himslef up with the crumbs lying on the window ledge.  Do you notice I have as yet not got around to the window cleaning part of the 'Spring Clean!'  That may remain the case for a while...

I did however manage to visit every remaining charity shop in Camulodunum and find nothing that I wished for.  The nearest was a jacket that was too small wth a price that was too high!  Anything over a fiver is too high in my opinion.  Only one woman in the shops acknowledged my existence, there were plenty of women around filling the space being acknowleded however, and I note the mens secions in these shops appears to be shrinking.  Maybe the men are not throwing out the stuff they used to, Conservative austerity reaches even here.  

The bus home was empty, although a teenager managed to fill some time loudly talking on her phone to a friend about nothing for a while.  I preferred the child and mother on the way in.  We even arrived ahead of schedule in spite of the drivers attempts to slow down.  More chance to take in the green fields swaying as we passed, more chance to observe blue sky with the sun piercing the clouds, more chance for teeny to talk to her friend about nothing!

 

 

A Colchester Bookshop & the Hospital Arms

This 'run of the mill' side door, of a kind seen in town's everywhere, led me into a new world, a bookshop!  Not just a bookshop but a proper second hand bookshop with several nooks and crannies and several floors of books, some in order others mixed up.  A wonderful find and I wondered how I missed it before.   I missed it because it only opened up in this building last year having previously been half way down the hill.  More custom, far more people passing the door, more satisfaction for all concerned.   A delightful staff, friendly and I suspect knowledgeable, several floors and with a 'bargain basement,' on the top floor!  

 
I just happened to see the sign in the window and this led me to the shop.  An aged building, a small shop that is larger inside than it looks from the outside and books a plenty.  Having only my 'outside glasses' and not coming prepared to search for books I was caught out somewhat but I suspect this shop will survive here and there will be plenty of time to visit again.  This shop has all an old bookshop should have, the building, the people, the nooks & crannies and lots and lots of books.  I must say one or two looked expensive to me but this is because I am so used to raking charity shops for books and some of those do not understand the worth of older books so bargains can be found.  These people know books and charge accordingly, they must to survive in this 'Amazon' led book world.  I hope they will survive, this is a proper bookshop.

William Gilberd was as is said a clever man who became a physician, looking after the English Queen Elizabeth and experimented with science to discover the earth was magnetic.  He also came up with Latin words which others called 'electricity' and possessed a clever mind and royal approval.  King James VI & I also approved but not for long as poor William died in 1603 possibly from Bubonic Plague.  Perhaps he ought to have ignored science and physics and just studied medicine?

The house in which William was born is a bit of all right for the time.  I suspect it has been altered somewhat over the years but looks all right from the outside.  Once the place would see horses and the like entering via the gateway and lassies in flowing dresses gathering to chatter about the latest gossip in town.  This house would in those days be in the dead centre of town and clearly Gilberd's dad had influence at the time.  Clearly he also made sure he did not upset Queen Liz.

 
I was impressed by the ancient gas lamp outside the entrance to the old house but somewhat disappointed by the somewhat tardy lightbulb seen inside.  However these ancient lights add a great deal to old houses, and many still remain in Camulodunum in spite of Nazi bombing during the war and council rebuilding after it.  Behind me the area is modern 1960's or later style buildings.  Two church towers stand reaching to the heavens yet only one is connected to a church building, and that one is no longer used as such as the church has a new place next door.  The building now appears to act as a hall.  The old buildings rub up against a new shopping centre which I can tell you freely contains nothing that was of any use to me.

Having searched every charity shop in town unsuccessfully I made for home and naturally found my bus running just ahead of me leaving me 20 minutes to wait.  Nothing for it but lunch in the 'Hospital Arms' with a £3:40 pint of Adnam's 'Mosaic' and jolly good it was too!  A decent small pub made from two old houses well worth a visit, clean and tidy, well set out, offering food that tempted and judgng by the notice board reasonably popular.   This place gave me space to recover myself before I wandered over the road for the late running bus upon which I almost fell asleep.  That beer was stronger than I thought...

 

A 'Drookit' Day

They threatened rain, lots of rain so I put of my idea of visiting Camolodunum and headed instead for the local grossly overpriced 'Outlet' centre.  However as I got to the bus stop I saw the other bus awaiting so I went into town as planned.  The weather folks said the rain was spreading to the east so I guessed that it would be dry all the time i was in town and the rain would arrive as I left.
The moment the bus started the rain hit the windows.
Rain heading east comes from the west?  No, it came from the south, so it rained all the way in, all the time I was there and all the way back home. 
I love weather forecasters, preferably fried by burning at the stake!

So I wandered from charity shop to charity shop, visiting expensive shops just to check on the 'reduced price' stock and took in a small graveyard on the way.

It crossed my mind that the tree in the background had been there a long time.  Look at the girth on that!  Two or three times the normal size of such trees.  I suspect this one goes back to the 19th century, possibly earlier.  How long do they live?  Clearly this one has been around a long time and many branches have been chopped off by someone professional.

'Jumbo' the massive disused water tower seen at the top, stands close to the 'Mercury Theatre.'  Not a place I would waste money on but at least they have a magnificent statue of the Roman version of the Greek Hermes.  Hermes was not just the messenger of the gods he was also the god of thieves, but I suspect you knew that.  I wonder if there is such a statue in the Houses of Parliament?

The remains of this church always grab my attention the top of the tower looks somewhat Italianate, the entrance door looks about 1100, the rest look Victorian.  Either way it makes no odds as it is just a big hall now and next door in the 1990's building the church meets.  Not sure what they use this for now, behind that closed black iron gate a sign says 'Come in, We are open,' but the entrance is the other side!  

This is all that remains of this part of the town centre, the rest was bombed during the war and is now hideously shop centred.  Very good for shoppers as all the right shops are here  but not an architectural delight.  The wee narrow streets around remain and have potential but I always feel this is a dirty town, lots of character but needs a real good scrub up. 

My weary head pondered on the way home about many things.  Not the sixteen year old's blethering on the bus way behind me, not the aged couple on the other side dropping grumbles about 'all these migrants' but two things only.  

One was the greenery brought out by the rainfall these last months.  The fields were green, the tractor delaying us again was blue, the white blossom flowered magnificently all over the huge hedges by the roadside, especially on the relatively newly built by-pass, and had we been able to stop the yellow and blue flowers were abundant in many fields we passed.

No-one appeared to notice.

The other thought concerned the report that when the Conservative Party came to power there were only 66 'Foodbanks' in the UK, now there are over a thousand!  However from the top deck we could see many large, newly built homes with several bedrooms and either a large Mercedes or a BMW parked outside.  We passed many vehicles that cost a plenty as well as the cheaper, second hand, runarounds.  The shops were busy in spite of the constant rainfall, people carried bags that were full, shopkeepers still sold expensive items and people were happy to buy.  

Like me many were chasing 'shiny things' but I was doing so in the Salvation Army Charity Shop, they elsewhere.  'Shiny things' are good and we need them but where is the money coming from?  Are the shoppers once again using credit and heading for another fall?  I hope for their sakes we are not as under this government, which will be hard to remove, they will be left to rot!

Let us all sing a song of joy...

A Day Trip

In Camolodunum again today, I travel the world you know, I discovered a church building I had passed but ignored for some reason.  This lay behind the Roman wall, note the red bricks and the construction of the wall, solidly built to ensure no more Boudica's attacked and burnt the place down again.  Amazing to see these walls, ignored by most through walking past them daily, these solid walls were erected in the first century and stand proud, if not beautifully, today.

This was the first time I had noticed St Mary's by the Wall, and naturally I first took a picture of the once elegant door.  It is likely a Saxon church once stood here, the Norman's liked to build stone churches where old wooden ones once stood, and this one dates back to the 1200's.   You can see the lack of respect for history as the lower walls are built using portions of the Roman wall!  The tower above is probably the only remaining original portion, the church was rebuilt in the 1700's and many unreadable tombstones stand there some from that date as far as I could make out.

During the English Civil War, which imperiously included invading Scotland by the Margaret Thatcher of the day, one Oliver Cromwell, the church was used for defence by the Royalist side as Colchester opposed Cromwell and the Parliamentarians.  Whether the people had a choice is not noted!  A man named as Thomson set up his gun there and directed fire on the besiegers until the many returning cannonballs brought him and the tower down.  The top of the tower has been renovated with red brick and shows in between the remaining Roman bits.

I wondered a bit about the sign above the door.  What kind of church is this that has a licence for booze?  A Catholic one looking after the priests?  An Anglican one with a thirsty vicar?  In fact it is a redundant building now used as the Colchester Arts Centre.  I didn't go in.  There may have been a chance to look around but I considered they may have an 'art' exhibition on and I would possibly express my opinion, and I don't like losing new friends...

The graveyard is a bit of a mess in truth, this was one of the better graves established in 1797 but imaginatively I forgot to check the name.  They clearly were important enough to have a block of stone and iron railings around their tomb.  Most of the others must have dated that far back, the town must have been on the up during the 1700's and wealth flowing in the right places, but the place is a sad site now.  Only one drinker was found there today and we shared a couple of words but clearly many more waste their lives here.  How sad is that?

 On the way to the bus driven by a man unsure of the braking capabilities on offer I once again was impressed by the war memorial.  This angelic creature is a magnificent example of war memorial of the time.  Totally ridiculous regarding the conflict but like many others a magnificent creation.  What soldiers thought I know not, but less was spent on wounded men's care than on this!

 

On the way home I bought two appropriate inner tubes for future use!  No fool me!  This time I spoke to someone who knows about bikes, and recognises an idiot also.  This shop ought to be nearer home I say!

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Friday Wander

Wandering about Camolodunum today I discovered the Orthodox Church of St Helen tucked away round the back streets.  Greek Orthodox do appear in many byways in the UK, one in Bayswater was a large and wealthy church with all the top people attending, this sadly is somewhat run down today.  The picture makes it look better than it is (adjusting white balance to shade does this) and I was disappointing for the people there as it must cost a bit to maintain.
I was glad of the cool rest on a muggy day and took one or two shots and sat and looked around me. As the do the place was covered with icons, something I can never comprehend.  To me the book says read the book, baptism and Lords table, anything else, no matter how long it has been in vogue, is needless.  Yet in Orthodox circles such abound.  I wanted to take a few more shots but was disturbed by some unsmiling Mediterranean patrons who arrived, mother kissing several icons, dad another, all glaring at stranger.  I attempted to exchange a few words but was not made welcome and moved elsewhere.

The church was originally built in the eighth century possibly by King Offa of Mercia (the English Midlands) who had overlordship here.  The building was erected upon the foundations of a Roman theatre, this being the actors end, the ground rising behind.  Just a few doors up there is a small unopen museum where some remains can be glimpsed as can this model.

After the Boudicca revolt, she was upset when the Roman governor slapped her around, raped her daughters and grabbed her land, she was irked enough to burn down Verulanium (St Albans) Londinium (London) and Camolodunum (Colchester) and all those within, so the Romans strengthened the walls of the town, butchered most of her people and settled down in their new theatre.  Walls around the town were added quickly, just in case.
So the church was built on the foundations of the ruin and thin red Roman bricks can be seen in the walls.  Something seen on so many churches in Essex, old Roman villas are often reused. 
The Normans rebuilt what is now known as Colchester castle, although it was never really such, and around 1079 rebuilt the church which was a bit run down.  The reformation removed all the needless stuff and the building served many purposes until once again restored during Victorian days.  The Orthodox looking for a building now rent this from the Anglican owners and this gets used regularly after some years of standing empty or being used as a store.  How can such old buildings be used this way? 
Some believe St Helen, the mother of Constantine was born in King Coel's Castle, Colchester Castle, and this may be true I know not, she was probably born in Asia minor however.  She dug deep under Constantine's original Church of the Holy Sepulchre and found pieces of the 'Holy Cross.'  I have been down the steps leading to this area and have my doubts personally.  The idea of his mum with pick and shovel digging down intrigues me however.  British connection exists with this pair however as Constantine was declared Emperor while at York while his father Constantius Chlorus was governor of Britain.
Typical Yorkies!
The East Saxons living here by the way gave us the term 'Essex' and the present Essex County badge features three Seax's, the curved sword loved by the locals at the time. Some would love having one today if you ask my opinion.

Standing outside the 'castle' today you get a real understanding of the defensive position.  High on hills on three sides once the Roman walls went up it was very strong indeed.  The Romans of course never took the place by force, the locals in Kent and Essex welcomed the advantages Rome could bring and those that didn't got chopped.  The town had many Romanised locals and ex-soldiers residing their in safety until the man upset Boudicca.   After that a more Roman approach was adopted.

The comparison between Colchester and Chelmsford intrigued me today.  Chelmsford, the County Town (now City) is boring, however it is clean for the most part and while there are a few dregs walking the streets on the whole it is quite decent.  Colchester on the other hand is at first sight dingy, crowded and features many who appear either disreputable or had great social needs.
I have never seen beggars in Chelmsford but they exist in Colchester.  There are a great number who at first sight would be happy to appear on the 'Jeremy Kyle' show, other painted hussies of unclear age look like they have walked out of 'Eastenders' after having received too much make up and clothes clearly too young and too small for their wrinkles.  The nature of the narrow Roman like streets does not help even if it lends more attractiveness to the town than you find in Chelmsford.  Here at least a wide variety of small shops exist, some prospering for a decent time, but a dreich day gives the place a dingy look.
Having said that the area on the other side of the High Street slipping steeply downhill contains many houses going back hundreds of years, or at least newer homes built in similar style, this area known as the 'Dutch Quarter' after the Fleming's and others from France and Flanders escaping Spanish or other oppression in the fifteenth century.  Much of Essex gained from these immigrants, most of whom were weavers or dealers in the wool and cloth trade.  We might benefit from those immigrants arriving today by the way.   
Strangely I prefer the variety of shops in Colchester, many of them and a good selection, but it is a bit in need of a good clean.  Chelmsford has its uses but it is boring, just a big shopping centre and little else.

On the wall of one of those houses I found this and it reminded me of those similar signs once used in days before a fire service.  The householder would insure his house against fire with one company, a sign would be placed on the wall, if a fire broke out he would call the company and men would arrive to save the house.  No sign, no firefighting!  Edinburgh I believe was the first city to introduce a proper fire service, and I am not surprised.

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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Camulodunum

Camulodunum was very cold today, in spite of the weather man claiming the cold snap was lessening.  Here we see the wall forming the first defensive barrier.  Behind the land slopes up to where I suspect another barrier once stood.  Well it would have had I anything to do with it!

Not exactly straight!  Age has indeed wearied this wall which has lasted many years.

 

The variety of stones includes many slim red tiles.  These are Roman bricks I believe but I am too busy to check it out and I wonder if this forms part of the wall created as part of the new defences after Boudicca's revolt. 

   

Can you make out the thin layer of ice that lies on top of the river?

I wondered what this was at first.  The design and brickwork was typical 1950's and must have appeared very modern at the time.  It forms part of the Fire Station and while I am unsure as to whether it is a chimney or part of the training routine I found it strangely atmospheric of its time!

I was amazed by the lamp standards in this area.  Very dated and very badly maintained.  Much more attractive than the concrete type that appeared in the 50's, or would be if painted once again.

My meeting there was once again with a different person.   Yet another has walked off to tour the world and I am now on my fourth worker, and I suspect this will change to another next time I trundle along there.  Still this lass has plenty of common sense and a great deal of the females normal attitudes, she nagged me, browbeat me and was totally unreasonable in her demands!  However I am much encouraged by the news that the employment situation will worsen and 'bosses are losing staff' claim the press.  It did not mention where they lose them however.

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Failed Trip

I checked the rail website this morning and fund some trains were still running.  Someone called from the meeting place but left no message on the ansafone, usually this means it is a female!  I called back, at great expense, and asked for the appropriate person. She was in another part of the building and I had to call a different number, at great expense. Here I discovered the woman I wanted only to discover she was not the woman I wanted.  She was another woman who had stood in for the first woman who was, wait for it, back in the first part of the building. I called once more the first number, at great expense, and found the woman I wanted, or rather didn't find her as she was with somebody else.  I left a message and wondered how to pay the bill.  


Checking the website I looked for updates on the train troubles, sadly while many lines out of Liverpool Street were suffering delays, by stalled trains, frozen points and lost trains, my line was clear, for the most part.  I checked the site before I left, the train was 'On Time!'  After slithering down to the station, the feet damp from leaking shoes which were attracted magnetically to all slush puddles en route, I discovered the train was running but a mere seventeen minutes late.  I joined the queue who were glancing anxiously at the timetable screen while fingering their wallets.  I paid my money to the friendly efficient man in the ticket office and took my place on the platform. 


Only one other was there and he was only there to make a call on his mobile away from the others.  The others rested together in the waiting room, a waiting room equipped with a coffee and 'stuff you need on trains stall.'  I wondered what the connection would be like?  I wondered if it would arrive on time? I wondered where the yellow went when I brushed my teeth with Pepsodent? A female voice descended upon my ears from somewhere unknown.  The voice intoned the details of the train, but not its whereabouts. "The ten o'clock train is cancelled," she informed us with ill concealed boredom. It was possibly the thousandth such call she had made since her shift began and it was beginning to show.  "The next train to depart from Platform 1 (Platform 1? There is only one platform?) will be the eleven o'clock."  As my meeting was timed for eleven fifteen and I would arrive just before she left for home I obtained a refund, along with the rest, and struggled home via the slush. I informed the lass I would not arrive and she cared less for this information than I care for a woman talking about her baby.  


I did the washing instead and fell asleep.  Something tells me this was more productive than visiting Camoludunum would have been.

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