Scoot by the River

An interesting array of aged scooters outside the Town Hall today.  A 'Mod' was getting married and his mates all arrived to celebrate with him.  These guys gather every Sunday morning at the cafe round the corner, aged bikes with aged men pretending they are 40 years younger than they are.  Not all remember the original 'Mods' who gathered in large numbers in the 60's, the 'Who' were their favourite band and it is unfortunate no music was playing when I passed today.  I suspect the bride would turn up on a scooter but did not wait to find out.  I did think it funny that several were dressed in 'Skinhead' outfits, especially as the lack of hair was becoming apparent at their age anyway.

Yesterday I wandered as a lonely cloud by the other river in Chelmsford, the River Chelmer.  A narrow winding stream flowing past hidden industrial works and row upon row of boxes in which people live their lives.  Maybe it is just me but while the houses are perfectly acceptable there is no 'heart' to be seen in them.  Many rows of decent enough grossly overpriced housing with decent enough people but no character to be seen.  I suppose when the rows of 'two up and two down' were built in Victorian days people thought the same but those appear to have more character than today's estate homes.  

Chelmsford today is summed up in this picture.  The house that once was a mill, one for which I can find no history, sits above the wee bridge over the Chelmer surrounded by parked cars.  Cars from which many have entered the building itself, now an office block, and others who have moved to similar buildings, possibly the university situated at the rear itself. Behind are more offices in the distance and several industrial units, car repairs and the like.  The once idyllic scene now surrounded by modern blight.  At least the council keep the waterway clear and the gardeners do a marvellous job looking after the paths around.

The gentle flow of the waters do not tinkle by in this area, the only tinkling comes from the many bikes that rush along the path carrying students to their work or possibly lecturers to their enlightening talks.  It may be just the usual suspects going about their business of course but happily none of them smiled bar one pretty young lass and the rest merely carried the cares of the world as they passed by.  Still it is a good thing when towns, oops this is now a city, keep their rivers clear and create decent paths through tree lines areas and encourage wildlife as much as is possible.   This is to be encouraged as we need these green spaces in our concrete and glass world.
That concrete and glass world was where the path took me sadly, five story glass fronted new temples of Mammon reared up and I plodded through the main street, now at least filled with a lively market, bought my coffee to keep me going and headed for the butcher for three for £10 chicken pieces to keep me alive.  

An interesting wee house, totally out of sequence with the road in which it lives, called 'The Rectory.' This stands (in 'Rectory Lane') next to a closed cemetery the details of which I could not read as the gardener had blocked the note with his vehicle.  The cemetery has been closed for some time and now the only people bar the council gardeners who occasionally cut the grass to be seen there are vagrants sleeping rough.  I am tempted here to add 'Rest in peace' but will refrain.  

Above the Rectory door however I noticed this!
Quite what this is or was supposed to be intrigues.  It is certainly not what Christian buildings out to be decorated with I would say, it looks more like some portrayal of a demon.  Possibly it was placed there to upset the rector and he quite liked it, these Anglicans are strange folks.  I have no idea who lives in this building now, it may be uninhabited as the curtains are drawn across the windows.  No doubt this once housed the man responsible for the cemetery upkeep, and very nice too, no noisy neighbours in the past, and possibly it lies idle for the moment.  No wonder with this guy above the door!

It Never Ends

Inevitably after sunshine come mist!  It has taken all morning to disperse.  It was almost like being in Edinburgh once again!  This morning I had intended to return to the cemetery and grab some early morning pictures but the mist hindered this so I did nothing whatsoever, although I was supposed to do several things.  
The problem you see was the pictures on the WW2 memorial they were too big! The wee camera pictures come out at around a 1000k, the fancy new camera bought at a quarter of the original price come out at around 6-7000k each!  This means I ran out of space quickly.  Bah!  I discovered this when I had almost completed upgrading the original photos.  I could not work out why I had used 95% of the space when I had 27 pictures and around 90 men there and the WW1 memorial had 61 photos and over 200 men!  Technology is too much for my dim mind.  
So once again I had to slog it down the road, this time in bright and indeed hot sunshine, with weary knees and a lack of food inside me, I forgot to eat properly last night again.  When the mist cleared off I went seeking out the stones from last week.  They were still there I noted.  It would have annoyed me had they moved during the previous days.  
So now I have to once again go through the site removing and adding for the umpteenth time.  Oh joy! Sometimes I wish I had not started this.  Bah!

In other news the election continues....yaaaawn..... 

A Mixed Bag

With the arrival of temporary sunshine I took the opportunity to visit the cemetery and upgrade the fotos on the war memorials.  The newly cut grass gave off a sweet fragrance as I walked across the wide expanse looking for my friends who have lain here so long.  I had permission to do this from the various bodies concerned.  I am happy that I managed to find most but not so happy that the one perfect picture of a colourful robin sitting atop a stone was missed! Typical!
My knees now ache as the exercise, which I need, is much harder than when I was a boy.  It appears almost impossible to get rid of the aches from the muscles after exercise, no wonder folks don't do it. Anyway I walked there and back and stuffed my face afterwards with fattening stuff.  This may have been the wrong option.
  
Nothing else happened.  The election fills the papers, interrupted only by gunmen in various places, and with no football till the weekend I have had to fill the spare time reading Tacitus.  His history may not be quite as we would write today but gives an interesting insight into Rome in the first century.  A while back I looked at the emperors for the first 300 years and only about seven or eight actually died normally in their beds, the rest died by poison, sword or pillows over the head.  The Emperor had amazing powers and few considered changing his role into a more democratic one, it appeared he could kill anyone just because he said so.  This certainly was Caligula and Nero's way and the rest made use of their position to remove troublemakers.  Hmmm maybe this is worth returning to, if I am emperor of course.   
Life in Roman times were very rough.  It is difficult to understand how such life could be endured yet we see similar around us much of the time.  ISIS appear keen on a similar style, without the pretend civilisation and empire, and occasionally it rears its head elsewhere, North Korea perhaps. A strong ruler could dictate a decent society, better than ours perhaps but in the end he dies and who knows what kind of man will take over.  In the end a free society means people have to be free to choose, that as the Ashers bakery in Northern Ireland and the Evangelical Preacher in the south coast have discovered does not exist.  They have both been browbeaten for party gain and by the courts at that!  
We need to use our freedom such as it is as it may not last much longer.  Who knows what mess lies ahead and the after effect of the next election will be structurally changing for this nation.  Other events will soon occur to make us worry.  Life is never what we wish it to be.  I would be perfectly happy with a small cottage with a sea view spending my days watching the sun go down as I feed the birdies and with constant sunshine on tap.  I am easily pleased.


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Hard at Work

Here I am hard at work, I am there, I merely collapsed with exhaustion and can be found lying under the table muttering rude words about the Battle of Cambrai!  Six men required, only one finished and August around the corner but I am not panicking!!!!  Add to this I wandered down to the cemetery (it was dead quiet again) to take a few better photographs of a gravestone belonging to a chap who died of disease in 1916.  Information regarding him is arriving and he will be added to our pile so I decided we needed a better photo.  I knew where he lay and went straight there and he had gone!  No sign anywhere of the large cross that stood above him, nothing remained!  This is taking grave robbing too far I thought.  I wandered about for ages but could not find where he had been moved to, cursing my stupidity in not checking the shabby picture I took last year.  Ghouls I decided, had been in during a dark night and nicked him to sell to a medical school somewhere.  Instead I retook pics of other gravestones in the faint hope of improving what I already possessed.  Back home, still before eight o'clock and with the sun shining, I checked the old grubby picture of my man.  Funnily enough he has been moved to a place right behind where I was standing photographing a gravestone.  Bah!

So once again I discover the weighing machine is broken.  It claims I am two pounds short of 16 stone for goodness sake!  Clearly a malfunction.  However as I puffed and struggled up Cemetery Hill this morning as slowly clambered back upstairs it seemed a good idea to lose some of the flab.  So once again I am on a diet.  Once again I am eating healthily, once again it will fail.  But maybe this time I had better make an effort as this fat is killing me!

Monday Ramblings

With autumn settling in, the leaves beginning to brown and the rain making it's presence felt I thought a picture of blue sky was called for.  I took this snap on Saturday when two ancient aircraft flew over the cemetery.  They must have been heading for a show somewhere, there are still several airports within a twenty mile radius. Sadly my little camera is not capable of reaching them 2000 feet up. In the cemetery I was once again looking for Serjeant Smoothy.  I called to him several times, I suggested he raised his hand so I could see him, but no answer was the reply.  I suppose being dead since 1919 slows down the responses. 

Mine we slow when I sauntered round to the museum early to dismantle the 'Essex in Sport' exhibition, or whatever it was called.  A display commemorating all the sporting greats from the county.  This included a visit from Jimmy Greaves, a genuinely good footballer and England great.  Not from from us resides Geoff Hurst though whom England stole the World cup, for the second time, by not scoring three goals in the 1966 world cup final.  The ball never crossed that line!  Not that I am one to mention this however.  The work only took a short time, less than an hour and my contribution was complete and I was flung back out onto the street.  However being so unfit I feel the effects even now.  How easily muscle goes stiff!  

Bored?  So am I.  Nothing to write about, no rants apart from the usual,nothing sensational to lay before the world.   My brain has been dead for a few days and no original thought crosses my mind just now.  Although the 'date cakes' I made from the World War Two recipes were excellent!  And I rarely say that about anything I make.  Try it!  I should say my weight is increasing, possibly I've had too much of the Date Cake.  Anyway, Carrott cake tomorrow. 

OK, yawn with your mouth closed, I'm off to watch the football, and fall asleep.

p.s. So you don't like Bill Evans jazz music eh?  Phillistines Pah!

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"Age shall not weary them...."

Well actually....

So I decided to be clever.  Chasing graves I could not find the other day I came up with a cunning plan.  The CWGC have friends who photograph such graves, and there are other means to identify the fallen.  The plan was simple, download the photos, print them out on one sheet of paper (cheaply) and carry this to either of the two cemeteries.  Brilliant!  In the morning I stuffed myself early on with somewhat stale bread, switched off the laptop, and got ready.  Then I realised I had forgotten to download the pictures.  This meant switching the laptop back on, awaiting the interminable time while it set itself up again, and then searching for the desired shots.  This I did.  I switched off and the laptop slowly ended the procedure, and as it did so I realised I had not printed them off!!!  I left anyway, my memory would be good enough I said, now that I had reacquainted myself with them.  I also planned to cycle there through the back paths, thereby avoiding the big hill both ways.  It's a delight going down such hills, but not if the traffic is busy.  Immediately I forgot to go the easy way and joined the early morning traffic on the main roads.

Later, after once again stuffing myself with stale bread, this time with greenish cheese, I decided to finish the first cemetery where two graves were still undiscovered.  This time I had already not only downloaded the two photos, I had printed them off!  Therefore, dressing carefully for the warm sunshine, checking the camera battery, and ensuring I would be back in time for the football, I set off.  It was as I passed the market I realised I had left the pictures at home.  Not only have I yet to find Mr Smoothy, my memory failing here, but later on I discovered a new man is also lying undiscovered by anyone somewhere in the other place!

Tonight, after ignoring all these mishaps, I spent a day with God and the football.  All went well, nothing could possibly go wrong, and it was when I was removing the beans from the microwave, after several minutes of heating, the lid came off and the hot sauce went all over my hand.  I now type with one hand grasping ice cubes, and the other keeping well away from the idiot.  What else can go wrong I ask?

This song is appropriate I feel....

    

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Friday Frolic

I frolicked among the graves again today, I had permission from the various bodies concerned.  This was a required return as I had missed somebody yesterday, I found him where he lay, right under my nose.  Isn't it always the way?  Another kept himself hidden, after four years in the trenches he would be good at this.  Imagine however spending all that time avoiding bullets, coming home after your regiment is disbanded in early 1919, then dying of appendicitis a few weeks later?  How sad is that?  I found him through an internet search and this means I must return again on Monday, unless he has moved elsewhere.  There is good exercise to be had wandering about, sometimes the earth has sunk somewhat and falling into a depression is always a danger.  This almost happened to me but I recovered quickly as I'm sure I heard a small piercing voice cry "Do come in...."  I found myself several seconds later at the gate and on the way out.

I came across this while scouring the old pics.  I may have shown it here before, maybe not.  This I found in a village close by a while back.   A lovely touch in a building that faces the main street, and a very noisy one at that.  An excellent renovation I would say.  That is if he actually did put another door in around the side.

In days of yore this used to be the only way to hear music outside of the wireless and the local brass band.  These days it must be impossible to buy the needles, although many must still have records and use the thing.  Oh the delight of scratching a record and having the best track on the album jump as it played, worse still to repeat the same note over and over again.  How we suffered!  Kids today, they know nothing!

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Wet Monday!

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The day started by appreciating the rain teeming down outside. "That will please the farmers," said I. There was no point in being upset myself, so I just got on with life, in my usual 'happy go lucky manner.' Tsk! A bit of rain and people grumble so. I am not one to complain myself as I see no point in this as it gets us nowhere, so I just got on with my day, smiling cheerfully at those passing by outside. Few returned my smiles however, but I suppose at six thirty in the morning some folks find happiness difficult? Anyway as I browsed the papers I noticed that a camera similar to this one, which I believe to be a replica rather than an original  :-

Leica 0                         

a 'Leica 0.'  An original one of these was sold at auction for one million pounds! One million just for a camera made in 1923? I had a Leica from the 1930's and found it difficult to get the best out of the thing, mostly because I am an idiot, partly because it takes some getting used to. These are the 'Rolls Royce' of cameras however and most owners have their cameras serviced regularly, and at a price most of us would not pay for a camera in the first place!. However most owners are professional or serious amateurs and use them constantly, so the cost is worth it. I would be happy to own one of their latest digital efforts mind you, if I could afford the three thousand pounds.....

A sad situation nearby today. One of the streets in which I used to deliver mail saw the murder of the woman and her child, a toddler under three. A man shot himself, apparently, when surrounded by police. A cheery lass from what I remember, although it is some time since I was there, and very sad that a child died because a  man is not allowed to see her, if that indeed was the cause. How emotion, selfishness, and anger get the better of us!  So many people appear able to find guns these days, I suppose that tells you something about those who carry them!

How I laughed this afternoon. I noticed the rain had ceased teeming down and the sun was attempting to break through the, now white, clouds. I decided it was time to move! I gathered the bag of old clothes and detritus other goodies and took it down to the charity shop for mental folk. (In Edinburgh these are called 'Hibernian Supporters') and deposited it there. Walking out of the shop I noted the sun on my face and happily strolled down the hill to the cemetery where I continued my search for dead Great War soldiers. As the four I wished to find did not have the regulation 'War Graves' headstones I knew it would be a bit of a slog. I found one, eventually, and one or two other interesting finds when there including a soldier not mentioned on the website. The rain returned and encouraged me to make my way home, up the hill, and so I came back, happy, slightly damp, and wondering how long my cheery life will continue like this? Or words to that effect...

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Cemetery

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While some find cemeteries eerie places I tend to find them interesting for a variety of reasons. This morning the sun shone, a Blue Tit (or was it two?) hustled back and forward from a very small hole in the wall as it fed the chicks inside. two local village dog walkers ignored me from a distance and I was left to enjoy the sunshine and blue sky. Peace and quiet in such places gives the opportunity to think.  This small churchyard, with once again a church comprised of millions of red bricks, contains many graves of the wealthier sort from Victorian and Edwardian times. You could tell by the bricked in tombs and iron gates placed there to stop grave robbers removing the corpse, only the rich could afford these. These are actually more for show than effectiveness as I suspect a grave robber wants a fresh corpse, not one weeks old. What is less obvious is the part of the graveyard where the poor were buried, this is unmarked, and who knows how many were laid therein?  For a while I mused over one unreadable stone, most were sadly, guarded by a low iron railing, as to the day of this funeral around a hundred years or so ago. Who was he/she? What was the weather? I could imagine the elaborate Victorian hearse, drawn by two horses (there is at least one still in use around here), the mourners gathered around, the vicar and the whole performance. I wondered if anybody today in this village knows who he is?   

Several memorials, such as the iron one seen below, contain the name 'Richardson.' It appears likely that family will have relatives still around here. However once the third generation pass on who can remember the deeds of those who lie here? Whether they were good or bad, whether they managed to contribute anything positive, are lost to us now.  So many lives and so many stories. These iron memorials abound around here. Many are like this round one, containing names and details, now difficult to read, with others being small crosses. I wonder if this a local idea? I have not seen them elsewhere. 

The setting, when the sun shines, is lovely indeed. The sun, the blue sky, the trees covered in birds and bees, and the green fields behind with growing crops. Another small gate leads to the fields and is irresistible to anyone with a camera! The only disappointment remains the fear of theft that locks all church doors around here. A wise precaution but a nuisance just the same.

  

 
It was as I was having a last look around I heard the singing. No-one was to be seen, all was quiet and peaceful. Birds flitted through the trees and a bumble bee buzzed around flowers left at a grave when I heard the song.

"Come and join us

 Come and join us"

 

I got on the bike and decided I had finished my exercise for today. I got home much quicker than I had got here......

 

 

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