Caesaromagus for Waterstones Books.

With the temperature heading towards 90% only a person of limited mental intellectual ability would venture outside in the heat and without a hat.

I caught the 9:56 bus.

Like myself others were trying to figure out which stand to sit at, which n umber bus was ours, and is it really 45 minutes to wait?  It was not.  Our bus arrived on time, racing into the bay.  I did not get a reply from the driver for my cheery good morning, he appeared a bit disgruntled.  Indeed his driving as we headed towards Caesaromagus indicated he was not working from joy and happiness.  However, we arrived safely, and possibly early, and we left the bus, clutching tightly our bus passes.

The heat was indeed hot, but as I was brought up in Edinburgh I am used to the heat.  We had to sit right up close to the fire to avoid frostbite when I was young.

I squeezed my wee camera into my jeans as with the sun being out I saw this as an opportunity to find photographs, of an artistic nature, of all the half dressed females around.  This however, did not turn out to be the spectacular joy I had envisioned.  Indeed, it reflected badly on the Pizza sales in this town.

and hobbled off down the road.  I took the back road to walk through the market, forgetting it was closed on Mondays, and via the Oxfam rag & bone shop I made it to Waterstones.

My delightful Niece and Great Niece had given me a book voucher for lots of money and it was sitting staring at me, so I had to get out and use it.  I clambered upstairs, scoured around, Travel, religion, railways, History, Biography, women, War, and failed to find anything leaping out at me.  In fact I had to make a real effort to find things worth taking home and placing on the ever growing 'To Read' pile.  The effort was worth it, I managed to obtain four books, hobbled slowly downstairs, and paid with the card and the cash on my Waterstones card, leaving me £2:94 on the Waterstones card.  No cash left my hands!  The young lass treated me like she would her granddad who was attempting to work his phone, however, with £2:94 on that card I may have to go back again, or at least try the Camulodunum shop.

No market today, just a coffee shop in the centre walkway and this man loudly revealing why he has not made any money from music.  Mondays are the best time to shop, unless you want the markets, as most people remain indoors.  The musician, and I use that term lightly, was wise enough to sit himself under the tree as a great deal of shade was coming from that.

Making my way past the people who were in town, and all wishing to walk into me, London overspill style, I headed towards M&S.  Now this I did not like the idea off.  For a start they are expensive and aimed at old people, not my smart trendy style.  I also find it difficult to work out how to get back downstairs again once up there.  Hiding the 'Down escalator' behind the women's lingerie which is always in such shops next to Menswear for reasons I have never discovered, does not help.  

Anyway I perused the price tags on shirts, tee shirts, or 'vests' as they insist on calling them, the few jackets on show, jeans which all have the wrong length for me, odd numbers in M&S while I seek an even number length, and of course the overpriced shoes.  

I could justify using my card on.  I was unusually caught in a  shop, with free money and nothing to purchase!  This was unusual.  However, if the free bus still runs I may pop down to the Freeport, or is it Village Outlet shops and see if M&S remain there.

Walking in the hot heat with knees that cried out all the way, I noticed the floodlights high above.  These are of interest for those who follow cricket.  These floodlights mark the Essex Cricket Ground.  There is a smaller ground in Colchester where they sometimes play, found at the bottom of the slope leading up to the castle.  Most games are however played here in Caesaromagus.  Cricketers are of course stupid enough to stand around all day doing nothing in bright and hot sunshine.  Only a really stupid person would wander about in such heat.

A few minutes before the bus I stopped off in the cathedral for a minute, praying for strength to get to the bus.  

This was an error.  ought to have been praying to find the bus!  The 70 I came on, I have discovered, only runs from my stop to here.  However, interspersed with this is the 370, which runs all the way to Camulodunum every hour.  Many are confused by this.  The driver however, was very helpful, explaining to me, and then an old lady (you see how easily old people get confused), the situation as it is.  We waited almost contentedly for the bus to take off.  Eventually, with all the windows open with the smell of bus fumes still filling the air, we headed homewards.  

Tonight is SPAM.  Tonight the boys get together, if the women allow them out.  I may have fallen asleep by then.  Maybe I will ask one of their women to give me a call, just in case...?

What?   oh!

A Trip to Waterstones

 

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

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

I believed them.  

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

 

 

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

 

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

 

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

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

 

 

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

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

 

 

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

 

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

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

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

 

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

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

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

 

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

 

Fire!

I found it quite strangely hurtful to watch Notre Dame burn yesterday.  Strange as I have never been there but I suppose it was because of the long history of the building and the billion euro's it will cost to repair.  All that history lost in a few moments.
Already both the men renovating the building and a variety of Muslim groups have been unofficially blamed for starting the fire, the source of the blame having no evidence for any blame at any time naturally.  Far too early for anyone to know the reason for the fire although firemen will have quickly worked out where it began and possibly how.  We await the first evidence led report.  This however will not stop alt-right groups blaming Islamic types and if evidence shows otherwise cries of 'whitewash' will follow.
The loss of such buildings brings a variety of reactions, not least from the media who love such disasters.  Those 24 hour rolling news station have much to talk about, and repeat endlessly, all day and all night while waxing lyrical about the findings thereof.  There has been sentimental guff flowing from many sides, much desire to see the 'Crown of Thorns' made safe alongside other treasures from the museum.  Whether the thorns are indeed genuine I know not, if they are I would burn them before people worship them rather than Jesus.  One report emphasised the image of the golden cross above the altar gleaming in the mirk as the firemen posed at the door.  This was given heroic status while at the same time ignoring the real meaning of the cross, that would not sell to the public in the same manner.  
I like and dislike such buildings.  As interesting places to visit they are great, as history they tell us a great deal, especially when you follow the timeline down the years.  However rarely are such places real churches!  Ecclesiastical types who end up running these large buildings often have less interest in God than in ecclesiastical position.  Bishops can indeed know their God but too many are so far from them they ought to be deposed.  Such buildings are more heritage than Christian and a glance at the material sold in the church bookstall usually reveals where the church leaders stand. 
I have been round Westminster Abbey, a marvellous building with many national hero's and kings buried therein but is it a church or a national institution?  Durham Cathedral, where I had a short visit in the 90's is a tremendous sight, the columns just reach up into the heights and give a strange impression when you stare up at them.  If only I had a camera then?  Durham also contains the tomb of Bede the historian and Cuthbert the monk.  Both are worth visiting but are they true churches?  I doubt it.  In the 80's the new Bishop of Durham made clear he did not believe in most biblical doctrines, the Virgin Birth was one given much publicity at the time, yet he was appointed because of his academic talents.  This tells us much.     

Like many Abbey's, cathedrals and churches in the UK this one reaches back probably to a Gaulish pagan site which over the years has had a small church erected upon it, as here a larger then even larger building is erected until in the 1100's this great Cathedral was begun.  This would be dedicated no doubt to the glory of God but in truth such buildings are reflections of power, the Norman's rebuilt wooden Saxon churches in stone for this reason and vast stone cathedrals arose to impress upon the natives that they were the boss.  Most natives would of course be impressed yet their lives would change little, sow, reap and suffer was always their lot.  
As you know during 1185 Heraclius of Jerusalem called for the third crusade from the cathedral, and in 1481 Henry VI of England was crowned King of France here.  Happier news in 1537 James V. King of Scots married Madeline of France while in 1558 Mary, Queen of Scots married the Dauphin, that turned out well.  In 1804 Napoleon had himself crowned emperor by Pope Pius VII though I believe he took the crown and laid it upon his own head.  1831 the Victor Hugo novel about the hunchback was published creating a great interest in the building and leading to restoration work.  This would have included the bells had he stopped swinging on them. 
The vast number of people, clerics, congregation or workers who have passed through the building always impress me.  Some came for God, some obediently, many in desperation, many in anger.  The building has been the target of reformers and extremists with bombs, it has fans worldwide and cynics there also.  The poorest in France will wonder at the millions to be spent on a building while they continue to live as they do.  This building has seen many such societal differences!

Drink, Preach, Sun.

I awoke before six this morning.  I usually do when totally knackered.  It was not possible to sleep, I had little interest in the 15 minute 'Farming Today' sexist programme.  Edited and presented by females each time yet all the farmers who do the work and male, typical BBC.  This did not interest me, neither did 5Live's giggling girly presenter nor the male who found her hilarious.  Radio 3 offered opera, TalkSport offered mindlessness constantly interrupted by lengthy adverts all in a fake Lahnden accent aimed at white van drivers in the south east.  I rose, knees unhappy, and struggled through to the east wing.  Stirring up the dust on the floor, I really must hoover soon, I found the kettle and attempted to make coffee but unthinkingly made tea anyway.  Here I noticed the French Brandy bottle on the shelf, I was sure it was half full when I came in yesterday.  
The day has been spent unsuccessfully sending mums the pics I took of their darlings.  Unsuccessful in that some have said 'This is not mine!'  Others have not replied and one has sent her pics to my boss, my boss is now under the channel tunnel on her way to a month off!  (She has become 40 and feels old, pah!).  My brain is so tired I am leaving it to congeal until things sort themselves out.  Maybe I ought to just finish the bottle.  I dare not ask how the rest are doing.

Update, by six this evening I think I have sent the photos I took to the appropriate mums. I await complaints... 

A man was arrested for preaching outside St Paul's.  Cathedral staff apparently complained about him reading from the bible.  He has a loud voice and upset the 'peace' of the cathedral.  This is not the first time this has happened and a policeman did indicate it would be ''remiss' to move him on from a place of worship.'  The cathedral now allows him to speak for 30 minutes at a time.  How nice of the.  Possibly they could read, preach and offer the bible themselves rather than be a tourist attraction.
Personally a quick look at most cathedrals shows many to be very far from God and possibly allowing the National Trust to take over those that are failing would be one way of saving the CoE a vast fortune.  Some of course are Christian based but not all and it is easy to tell the difference simply by looking at the bookshelves to see what they sell.  A great many were begun during Norman times less for the glory of God and much more for the indication that the Normans were in charge!  While these are tremendous buildings to visit proper churches are usually small with less than 200 members.  There again how many actually attend Sunday services at such places apart from tourists trying to avoid the entrance fee? 

A cheery face has just informed us that the heat will remain and Friday possibly will reach 36% in East Anglia, which is this region.  I suspect I will not be going anywhere soon.  It may also lead to thunderstorms, lightning and pouring rain, which will run off rather than soak into the ground.  So while being burnt to a crisp we will be cooled down by monsoon like raindrops.  I am looking forward to visiting Tesco....
However the sun has been too hot too long, global warming is a problem the rich money grabbers deny while slapping factor 50 sun cream over their inflated bodies while on their yachts.  We will see much more of these weather changes over the next few years.  While I like some warmth I think 70-75% is good enough and a room touching 88% is not a happy place to be.  The daft folks sitting in the sun will be crowding the doctor and chemists for weeks to come.  The little sun I have seen has left me scratching the itch and possessing a reddening nose.  Not bad maybe but we need a cool breeze now.  There again I did a washing the other day and all was dry by evening.  

  

Book Tokens in the Sun

I escaped on the zimmer bus this morning to exchange my Xmas book tokens at Waterstones.  This took me out on a hot day eager to see bookshelves.  Therefore I stopped in the cathedral first as they have a book stall and sadly discovered this had been shorn somewhat, it transpired that next door the Diocesan House contained a bookshop also and they were working on not competing with one another. 

  
This meant I had to walk over the graves to the House and visit their small bookshop.  I felt it unfortunate that much of their stock was too similar, some discussion required between the two I think to get this right.  I would think the more 'heavy' books, commentaries etc, ought to be in the House while more 'daily' sorts in the cathedral, but what do I know?  All I know is that Christians do not buy books to learn about the book and the author but prefer books that make them feel good or offer the fashionable 'soup of the day.'

So down the High Street to the bookshop where I found three books worth spending my voucher on. There were more obviously but I am not greedy (much).  Browsing among the tables, much easier than the low shelves, I chose, eventually, 'Babylon' by Paul Kriwaczeck as I like the Sumer type of history, way back in the early days of southern Iraq.  'Undertones of War' by Edmund Blunden, supposed to be a WW1 'classic,' in time we shall see and 'Estuary' by Rachel Lichtenstein.  This purports to tell of the Thames Estuary, a place not far from here, rich in history and something I like reading about. 
All these books will lie on the pile of 'Books to read' which must be brought nearer where I sit as they are in danger of toppling from a height at the moment and this could be dangerous.  Naturally I now wish to drop the books I am reading and begin on these but must show some discipline and wait until ready.  This is not easy.

     
Home tired and aching I longed for sleep and wished to read the books at the same time.
However I was somewhat put out by a comment from Jerry in Missouri his state of health.  He has been very unwell for some time and his sick wife died not that long ago and now with his heart in a poor state he feels seriously that his time is short.  I rather regret this.
This Redneck has been a rude and nasty man to me for a while now, I like him! His humour and desire for God is real and he is able to argue, though never able to accept that I am right, tsk!  I fear for his health.

On a somewhat lighter note this music is what followed me around town all day.

 

Fire, Library, Butcher.

Returning from a day in Chelmsford Library looking at microfiche and searching through books I stopped off to look at the fire damage.  This building has stood here since the late 1500's and has of course been much changed over the years. I always loved it, the jetted front, the small dated windows, and I suspect creaking stairs inside.  In recent years the bottom has been a wine bar, restaurant and so on, all have failed and now the premises are used by a church group working with the 'homeless.'   Up above rooms are let and a variety of types make use of them.  In spite of original complaints there appears to have been no problems, at least none I have heard of anyway. Last night however rumour tells us a young man was informed he would be leaving, evicted is the word, and he apparently was none to happy about this.  

It has become obvious he was none to happy as his method of expression was to throw White Spirit about the place, light a match and stand well clear.  The chap who rumour claims was in the shower at the time was not happy with this expression of opinions.  He was high up in the three story building when he discovered the smoke choking him.  He got onto the roof and a double decker bus returning to the garage was brought close and he leapt onto the roof from where the firemen rescued him.  

The top floors are damaged, water damage from the fire hoses has reached the shops on the ground and the poor florist on the corner may end up losing her business.  Three of them were working on the Valentines Day (none for me thanks) flowers when the firemen knocked on the door to tell them the flats above were burning!  Luckily an empty property in the centre has been given to them for temporary use. Her business may still suffer badly mind.

Police are looking for a nineteen year old man, so there is no doubt who is responsible, and work on the building, if it survives, may go on for months.  The smell hangs about in the air as the fireman slogs his way dampening down the place.  

This blocked the road and caused my bus to drive the long way around town to head south.  In fact we arrived a wee bit early while I expected it to hinder us. I therefore headed through the town, stopping at the Cathedral for a moment and found myself impressed with a sculpture in the prayer chapel.  It is not often such things attract me but this one, photographed discretely from a distance, did look OK to me. Less impressive was the price on the second hand cameras in the local camera shop.  Certainly asking £45 for an aged Olympus Trip was excessive so you can imagine the prices of the better stuff!  Following an attractive thin legged well dressed woman, by accident obviously, I came to the market where I had a butcher at the butchers while not surprisingly I lost her as she entered a show shop, drawn irresistibly as a moth to a light bulb!  Looking at the butchers was useful however as my fridge was as empty as my intellect, and my chances as it happens.  

So I found myself in the library (pronounced 'in t' library' for those in Yorkshire) climbed down the stairs to enter, climbed up the stairs to the quiet local reference area and began to browse.  It amazed me that such a building should house the library and the Essex Council Buildings when so many stairs are in use. To enter the council many more stairs climb up and down, only a council could get away with it!  There are lifts obviously but really!  

Anyway I browsed the books, grabbed very little info and discovered the microfiche of the WW2 newspapers!  I browsed, once they had been unlocked and instructed on how not to break the machine, a suitable periodical and was impressed as to how little difference there was between those editions and today's.  Certainly tales of war derring-do are limited today but the theft, complaints letters, and sensational headlines are similar.  One thing was very good, the ability to advertise for male or female staff!  How lovely to see PROPER ADVERTS again!  Mind you the housekeeper adverts never revealed how much you were paid, so that was not good!  I loved the advert for 'Craven 'A'' Cigarettes, 'For your throat's sake' it claimed!  Another interesting point was how little was expressed in this weekly newspaper.  A German 'Junkers 88' aircraft brought down by anti-aircraft fire 'a bright orange glow in the sky' was said to have crashed 'seven miles north of an Essex town.'  No town name is given in 1944 just in case the Germans find out.  In fact considering the years of war past so little was said in the paper, but that is to be expected.   

Now I know all about this I must go back and research better when I have more time and know what I am looking for.  On returning I went to see the boss to discover a lead as to what next and found her elsewhere. Tsk!  Typical!  So I made my way home clutching the chicken, meat and pies I bought at the butchers.  £11 for a few days meals is not bad all things considered as this will do for most of the week now.  

One thing I noted is the attitudes in a large town, now called a 'city' in comparison to those of this sleepy market town.  How miserable they appear, how unwilling to speak, unless selling something, although the staff at the library were acceptable in their behaviour.  I did note the unsmiling nature the larger the town however.  Incidentally Chelmsford was granted 'City' status not because it is the centre of Essex, a boring centre I say, but because Colchester, a much more interesting place, turned it down.  The peoples if Colchester regard their town as the 'oldest town in England,' this title they would lose if they became a 'city' so they avoided it to keep the tourists!

Ah fame!

    

.

Day Out

So my day of rest (most days) was ruined by visiting the Record Office.  The 10:26 bus left right on time at 10:32 but made it to the bus station dead on time.  Then the problems began.  Do I walk to the right along the long canal path or go through town and cut through the big shop?  Town it is, this is quicker and I always go for the quick route.  
Once through the big shop, past the unsmiling painted faces at the perfume counter, avoiding 'women's shows' and squirming at the prices on the men's jackets I came out almost on top of the path by the canal.  My poor knees and I limped along the path past the huge shopping centre, over the bridge and then the doubts began.  Once I had gone miles along I found a board with a map and details on it.  No one had told me that while the River Cam runs through Chelmsford the River Chelmer does also!  No-one told me that turning left took me to nowhere and turning right took me to the Record Office!  My knees muttered loudly under their breath as they took me all the way back, over the bridge and to a place where I could cut through to the back entrance of the said Record Office.  If I have not lost several pounds in weight by tomorrow I will wish to know why!

Passing through town I stopped of for a moment in the cathedral.  This is a nice place to sit and ponder, unless some event is going on, and I always stop of for a moment.  Much altered in recent years it has not replaced the Victorian stained glass windows and here is one of St Cedd, the first Bishop of the East Saxons.  Not that I can remember much about him, nor that he would look anything like the Victorian ideal, indeed he would not have fitted in well with them I doubt, but he was a strong efficient man in his day.  The sun was not bright enough to reveal the depth of colour in the window.

I spent hours in the Records Office, mostly looking through incident reports of WW2 bombs and V1 and the like that fell in this district.  These reveal the confusion when an explosion of some kind occurs in the dark 'over there somewhere.'  This has to be investigated, damage or casualties reported, and few if any of these men were professional.  However they dealt with bomb damage, individuals made homeless or wounded, and a hundred other events including being shot at by passing German aircraft.  
I was left with something of the lifestyle the man in the street endured as each day he risked passing aircraft, bullets and bombs while going about his everyday business.  These were the men at home, often with family members away on service, 'carrying on' and 'muddling through' while this great event erupted around them.  We are lucky we do not have that situation daily as they had.  
Naturally the bits I really wished to read about came late on when I had lost my mind by reading all the comments and struggling through a mass of carbon backed paper.  I will haven to go back next week and look at some of these again.  

Naturally the bus home met with the 'rush hour,' streams of red lights ahead of us, yellow ones to either side, and roundabout after roundabout hindering our advance to home.  Now home, fed badly and watered just as badly I ache all over, await the pains in the knee keeping me awake, and worse still there is no football on the TV!  
Bah!
  
  .

The Day Out

The day out consisted of a couple of hours in Chelmsford.  Not renown as a city of fame, in fact it is quite boring really, but I fancied a change and off I jolly well went.  The Cathedral, begun 800 years ago, is quite impressive inside.  Sadly it is on the Anglo-Catholic side of things, but it is very well done up.  Nice stained glass windows, a few interesting murals high up, a fabulous ceiling, interesting memorials and friendly staff.  The heavy wax from the prayer candles choked a bit however.  Not really how I see church but this one stores the Essex Bishop, whoever he is.  I always find an attraction in the steeple pictured against the bright blue sky, which never quite works for me.  I thought the old style light fitted in well anyway.  I would have liked to take a picture or two inside but felt that interfered with those prayer/meditating folks there.   Oh yes, and they had a door, indeed a door adorned by two of those heads.

This is a door, and one adorned by two of those head things.  A side door it may be but it does have two somewhat bashed heads.  Soub will point out why, but a 15 year old apprentice fixing things might be responsible I reckon.

  

The wrong way round but you get the er, picture.  Somewhat weather beaten angels I think. However this impressive piece was on the far end.

 

It is a contemporary rendition of Peter, with fishing boots, net, fish & key!  It's certainly noticeable.  (He should of course be called 'Cephas, as that is the name Jesus gave him, but the Greek version was 'Petras' and that stuck.  But you all know this.)  

Most of Chelmsford is to me just a pedestrianised High Street full of the usual shops, a shopping centre full of the usual shops, and a retail market with a variety of the usual stalls, including a butchers where I obtained a three pack of chicken bits for £5:99, a small fortune to me.  Shops are of course full of women, blocking the aisles, pushing folks aside, slowly cogitating on every other item they see, crowding into places like Marks & Spencers where the only men you see are being told by their women what they are buying, all shops are crowded, all very overpriced to me.  Even the Gift Aid Bookshop which drew me like a magnet was expensive.  While I am all for making a profit I am not paying £3:99 for a book, worthy as it may be when we all know most charity shops would charge £1 - £2:50 at most.  There is a huge price increase in such establishments as they go a wee bit upmarket.  While some such still stink of stuffy second hand clothes others are becoming very flash and while this may bring in cash I think it misses the point somehow.  The town itself however appears to be on the up.  Fewer charity shops near the centre, shops full and no Christmas goods that I noticed.  Good for them.  

    

There may well be other things of note worth pointing the camera at but all this walking through the hordes of wildebeest bumping into me every other step was very tiring.  Just wait till Christmas comes, imagine the crowds, buy now right enough!  I headed back for the train.  Just up from the stations stands this solid memorial to the thousands who fell in the Great War, many Essex men fell wastefully at Gallipoli, poor souls. 

Did I say train?  Oh yes, long time since we have had a picture of the railway.  This one was not mine by the way.  Our train was an older one.  The better class trains go past my stop.   Still memories of the old days were to be found here if one looks close.

The old water tank for steam engines and a dilapidated signal box.  Not used today I suspect.  Isn't that fabulous?  What, oh!  I forgot some of you are female......

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