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? Not from Boris.

This morning I humped two heavy bags down to the charity shop.  I chose the correct business.  "I think my heart is overworked," said I wearily to the man at the door as he showed me where to dump the bags.  

"Eat better," he said, and shewed me the door again.  

Very helpful.  I will take the other two bags of junk stuff to the 'Sue Ryder' or 'Cancer' shop next time.  

This charity shop is one of those type that are appearing more these days.  You know what I mean, usual tarty stuff but well laid out, good quality, and high prices for what is on offer.  This is the modern way to run such shops.  In times past these were more like junk shops, used goods, not always perfect, but cheap and with a sociable atmosphere to them.  I helped, somewhat, in one at the homeless charity during 1971/72, though we often used the stuff ourselves!  That shop ran for the people all about and brought them in as it was cheap and the personnel cared for all the people.  Today so many big charities shops have become businesses that must make a profit or be closed down.  The Heart people have a furniture shop up the road also.  Now I grumble a bit while admitting I do buy stuff from there, and the furniture stuff is good second hand quality, well worth a look.  However, I love the tatty old style more.

 

 
Boris, the worthless PM, has thrown out another idea to save his skin.  This one means sending asylum seekers to Rawanda and dumping them all in Africa.  Not only illegal, inhumane and vile, it is what Boris knows will find much support among the less well educated voters in his shires.  The 'Daily Mail' is full of such offering support to Boris.  Years of tabloid lies, fear abounding regarding their future has led to such support for this move.  They mostly live in 'white' areas.  Whether it actually happens is another thing, however, Boris cares not, all that matters to him is remaining in charge, people, any other people, don't count.

 

 

While the people argue Boris grins and walks away.  Meanwhile hospital waiting times increase, Covid ravages the land again, 651 died in the last couple of days, Brexit causes 25 mile queues of lorries 3 deep at Dover, and prices keep rising all around.  Boris and his mates are OK.  I paid £25 in Tesco this morning meaning I must adjust my spending again.  Allowing for the chocolate egg for my new nephew and £5:25 for 4 large chicken breasts I note much of the shop was the usual stuff.  I still await the Electric price increase, though the lass in the shop claims hers has doubled!  I believe her.  Now, where is that Lottery ticket...?

 

 

Town Shopping

Searching for a decent birthday card that hadto be posted today for a birthday tomorrow.  Today shops opened and I headed for 'Clinton's' wide choice of mediocre cards.  Lucky for me the place was empty, plenty of cards available, but as expected not a really suitable one was seen.  However, one rude enough for a woman denying she is 80 was found and posted later (only 2nd class stamps available, tsk!).

The shops in town were not as busy as feared.  Queues of scraggy men waited outside barbers (sorry 'Men's Hairdressers') and queues were also seen at banks.  Otherwise the shops were not overflowing.  Several charity shops were open, and as a quick look was required I was inside quickly, more cards bought and now I have a reasonable amount for the next birthday, I suspect however, none will fit the person that day!  It is always the way.

 

 

Some time back the town and county councils dug up the High Street, relaid the road with lots of nice red bricks, stopped all traffic yet allowed single and double deck buses to pass along hourly.  It took only a few years for the wheels to dig in and ravines to form on either side of a mountain in the middle. Puddles during rain, people falling when crossing the road, cyclists illegally running the wrong direction until they fall off, and much outcry as to why this was happening.

Now a million or so has been spent to repair this road.  

Last year a group of workers happily blocked everybody, dug up the road, repaired pavements, installed new 'stumble proof' areas, and by Xmas had been dumped by the council.  Too slow, not good enough or inept, I am not sure.  We await a new contracter arriving to finish the job, he will be here soon...

In the meantime the half finished work is hidden behind bright orangy red barriers, people shuffle by, masked and disciplined sort off for the most part, and we await developments, eventually.

 

The other week I was busy doing Spring cleaning.  This led to much hassle last week when my knees reacted, tiredness swept over me and I could do nothing all week.  Tsk!  Innit marvellous?  

Today was the first time out this weekend, round the town, shopping in reopened shops and that was feeling like a new experience, and noting a barber with no queue, I will look in tomorrow!

People were sitting outside coffee shops, with the temperature not that high.  Were the pubs open?  I did not notice, it was lunchtime but I never gave them a thought.  I did read that those sitting outside pubs had to wear masks.  This begs the question how do they drink?  

 

 

It's a Shopping Life

This online-shopping is a good thing innit?

What with the trouble last year with 'Hermes' and deliveries I am always a bit wary when ordering online.  However, all delivery companies have expanded greatly, even 'Hermes' has improved the system and enabled decent tracking of the goods, plus asking for report on the delivery.

Today I was informed my 'DPD' driver, name given, would deliver between 9:21 & 10:21.  So I sat back happy about this, as usually they arrive around lunchtime.  In fact he was a couple of minutes early and sped on his way, a cheerful hard working driver.  He must have been up before the postmen this morning!  Yesterday 'Hermes' arrived, a couple using their car rather than a van, a cheery local working class type.  Friendly, quick and within the time given.  A vast improvement for 'hermes.'   

 

 

With the vast amount of money received at Xmas I bought myself a (very) cheap, (very) used little camera to shove into my pocket.  Naturally bits are missing, scruff marks abound but the Battery charger works and so does the camera, in spite of marks on the lens!  The missing bit is the connection to the laptop which is required when downloading pictures.  I have ordered a (very) cheap cable from an online shop, but there is another problem.  The 'Canon' site offers downloads for these old cameras and I brought down the user manual easily enough, but when I try for anything else it demands the serial number.  Easy-peasy, they are always on the bottom.  However, when I looked it was not on the bottom!  OO er missus!  What is a going on here?  The condition of the camera indicates a bumbling user, Boris himself perhaps, and care has not been taken.  However the missing number could have been caused by 'wear and tear' or indeed scratched off for devious reasons.  The place I bought it from is a reasonable company however, not a back street job.     

I am now wondering if the cable will connect or if I will still require software to get a connection.  There is however, a possiblity that the Windows help have a solution, this may work. If not, the only solution will be to remove the SD Card and put it into the other camera, download, and return the cards to their respective homes each time I use the thing.  

Buying 'second-hand,' sorry, 'Used,' is a great way to shop if you are happy with older stuff rather than the latest gadget, however there are always pitfalls and bits missing.  

The camera looks like it will to do the job, even if not as good as the Lumix, ideal   for carrying in the pocket.  Mind you it is heavier than it looks.  Picture quality appears OK so far, one day I will get out and look around to see what it can do.

 

 

There is however, normal life ahead!  Next week charity shops will open again so I can go shopping without a debit card.  So many items appear to have shrunk hanging up in the cupboard, so items, like jackets, must be inspected.

A hundred and one smaller items have either gone missing or are now required and a perusal of these shops, all eight of them here, is a must!  I suppose I ought to wait a further week or so, the number of bags being donated, including a large black one of mine, will have to be sorted first.  The days of lockdown have given many time to sort out the cupboards.  I canny wait to see the bargains awaiting me.

 

Spring is in the Air

 

Yes indeed!  It's that time of year again!  The time of year when Dafooldils fill the page as they are the only bright things within miles!  The ones opposite me have been pushing through since December, today these ones at the far side of the park are almost completely out and brightening the world around them.

Mind you as the world around is dominated by the rather boring Town Council offices it does not take much to brighten things up.  I had to get out, with Spring jacket on no less, and walk across the park to enjoy the day.  What always comes to mind on such days is a remembrance of one Spring day in Kensington Gardens years ago.  A great many people were out, many walking dogs, rich and poor, old and young, and the first real day of Spring caused even Londoners to smile at one another.  For thousands of years the Spring awakens us to life once again, we know snow wind and rain, mist and fog will come again before long but we also realise that the warmth is with us now and good days lie ahead, even if locked indoors.

 

However, I could not wait here, I had to approach the butcher for minted lamb chops and huge chicken bits.  These were available so I added a huge pack of bacon just in case Brexit stops it coming over from er, somewhere in England it turns out.  Anyway, once home I chopped all up, packed the freezer and realised there is no more room!  This means I canny order that nice man's pies this week!  Tsk!  It also indicates I have nothing for lunch, some fool forgot to buy what he needed again!

 

Last night we had a Zoom operation.  A church gathering comprising people with the technical ability of those over 50 years of age.  Only one entered in without trouble, she is in her early 20's.  It was noticeable that everyone had a clean house, at least in the bits showing, although until she disappeared one woman only had feet to show.  Knowing which way to point a laptop is difficult isn't it?

It was also noticeable just how many men got on reasonably quickly by ensuring the wife logged on for him.  Zoom, while not perfect, is at least a way to meet those who we have not seen for a while.  It does make proper discussion difficult, in my case partly because the neighbours were in downstairs and I was trying not to talk loudly.  They think I am mad as it is just because I talk back to the TV, football, politicians and most other things I log onto, tsk!  Only hearing one side of the debate mwy fox them somewhat.  If they want madness I can show them that also if required.  Tee Hee!

 

I for one canny wait for the charity shops to reopen.  I expect it will be a few weeks before they sort out the vast quantity of goods that will be dumped on their doorstep when they do open.  I, however, will be awaiting the chance to check out the many jackets dumped by those who have found them shrink hanging in the cupboard while on lockdown.  That said I have a bag that is already overflowing with rotten stuff goods I wish to donate. Some charity shops, like Oxfam, have been working online like everybody else. 

Absent minds...

 

Toon Pool

 

My mind has been elswhere this week, it has as yet failed to return.   

This morning, urgently, I sauntered round to Tesco.  I was congratulating myself on how quickly I was gathering the few needfuls when I realised the manager, and an accolyte, were chatting in front of the chocolate (I need this for my calorie controlled greed).  Without thinking I indicated I wanted in there and helpfully grabbed his arm and pulled him aside as you would do a friend.  His sarcastic answer I did not catch, and only later did I realise what I had done.  Mind you I could have mentioned that he was not just taking up space but failing to wear a mask, I wish I had now!  In fact I think he was teaching a new manager how to cheat, how to lay out goods to entice the unwary, and increase sales, something stores do all the time, that is what increases his opportunities for advancement.  He will be on £30,000 or so I reckon.  

I returned home, gleefully dumping the shelf filling stuff and resting my laurels and planning the next job.  This entailed hobbling to the charity shop which asked for books.  I had gathered a few aged books of no worth and those that I decided I could live without and packed them in a couple of bags.

This was not easy, it is not easy to put books out, especially as in the next 12 months I will probably buy one or two back again!  These books were, it must be said, no longer any use to me.  Funnily enough, Waterstones have indicated I need to buy now or my £10 voucher runs out.  That comes next.

 

 

It was as I left the charity shop, something to do with heart attacks, I realised I had forgotten to buy a Digital timer for the night heater, the old one having died of excess.  So into Tesco I go, upstairs by 

escalator, downstairs by creaking, find what I want and on to queue up alongside large bottles of spirits going cheap to use the self service machines.  This, as you realise is not wise.  Two items and I struggled!  The blasted machine would not let me move on!  I banged it intellectually, thumped the timer on the bag space, and muttered sayings from of old.  Then the young lad came over and indicated I was doing it the wrong way round.  I had put the items in the bag space and was trying to transfer them to the basket space.

I cried.

 

I have spent the rest of the day watching trains to calm down, once I found a railway that had trains running that is.  

Bumbling Along...

It's a terrible thing when having eaten an inadequate breakfast you must run for a bus because you need a birthday card quick.  The best place for cards is not the local card shops but the Oxfam shop in Dunmow, not only two smiling young ladies but a decent choice of actually funny cards.

 
So I pushed my way past men selling strange kids waving things, there must be an event on today which explains the crowded streets and lack of traffic, and found the shop, brushed past the crowds and selected a few cards.
As it happens this area is of course wealthy so the book side is always worth a look and I obtained, for £2:99 a copy of 'Plutarch. 'The Rise and fall of Athens' to place on the 'to be read' pile.  Charity shops in well read towns are much better than those in the grubby back streets if you wish decent books.  The lower orders, like around here, read wimmins books, the trashy novels that ought to be burnt.  Better educated folks often dump books of quality, especially when clearing an aged relatives home.  Sadly they are all healthy and well at the moment in Dunmow.

  
The need to finish some of the family history has kept me busy, little else has been done, or indeed interesting enough to draw me away.  Now I have finished part one, soon to be sent north so my sister can understand the depth of depravity in her forebears, then I can look further back to Great Granddad where already I think I see problems...
Something to look forward to I suppose.

Books

It so happened that I came into possession of two more book vouchers yesterday.  Having ended my time at the museum, they indicated that as we have a 'Dinosaur' exhibition on at the my attendance might confuse children so I left, having left I was in receipt of these vouchers and a lovely card with words such as "I'm glad you have left," scribbled upon.
This sadly means I now have to slug my way into town to the proper bookshop and select more books for the 'To read' pile.  This as you will imagine upsets me.  So many books, so little time!

The problem is the charity shops around here.  Most sell books, mostly women's trash it must be said, but occasionally they possess something worthwhile.  The Sue Ryder shop in particular attracts a lot of good books, the hardbacks here were available at 2 for £1 and I am not one to resist such prices.  A proper charity shop, though it must be said it makes its money from the quality of the furniture it sells rather than books.  
I noticed in one of the papers a woman talking about the second hand books previous history.  She of course, being a woman, was merely using story books, a waste of time in my view, and conjecturing on the people who bought the novel first time.  This is interesting right enough, who originally bought the book that ends up in a charity shop?  Was it bought or a gift?  Did it delight or bring despair?  Surely if it was worth reading it was worth keeping?  Now I would throw out story books, though I would keep 'The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe' as I liked that when I read it ( I bought it for my niece in a charity shop 30 years ago and had to read all the others) but I would dump the rest.  However my books are interesting and worth something, they are always of use as reference in future times, unlike novels.  So who throws them out?  Was the missus clearing out again?  Did someone die?  Did the owner get bored with the subject?  I wonder if the reader got satisfaction from the book?  
What sort of house did the buyer live in?  The middle classes keep their books to show off their knowledge and impress people, other like Siegfried Sassoon had thousands of books up the stairs, on landings, on shelves, in libraries and knew everyone of them.  When asked he could indicate where each book was to be found.  Few are like that.  I wonder where his library ended up?  I know where my small collection will go, my niece has divided them up already and she gets the lions share, I am surprised...

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!

Another Day, Another Charity Shop...

Jumping aboard the airport bus I flew along past greenery tinged with golden leaves reflecting the bright sunshine, ploughed fields full of stubble glinting in the sun and overhead a deep blue Mediterranean sky.  Another plus was the bus was neither full or held up on the way.  I was in two minds about journeying out but I was keen to be outside and wished to visit the rich town and search the charity shops there for expensive goodies.  Thus it was worth the risk of meeting women with far too many children on the bus and happily the risk did not transpire, few were to be seen and the only one in sight was being manhandled by a frustrated and very annoyed mum!  Children are such a blessing!

As we headed for the town centre I noticed a charity shop unseen before.  This one runs two ambulances for the terminally ill, taking them from home or hospital to Hospices it appears.  Not a very cheerful occupation but one that must be needed by many people today.
The shop is compact and overflowing as such shops ought to be.  The small space was full of an African family shopping as I was but for personal reasons not seeking items for wearing at the museum.  They appeared to be more successful than I.  However a rummage in the small crowded book area at the back forced me to acquire two more books, both urgently required as I am sure you understand, and while nothing else was suitable 75p for two books clearly was.  
One thins was the helpful chatty girls running the shop.  While it is crowded it is good to have friendly staff greeting customers.  In fact the other shops I went into today did not provide such a response.  One or two rather wary staff in one and a half smile in another, very disappointing in my view.  Even the Oxfam shop, which usually provides a smiling staff, gave neither a bargain or anything I wished.  Most unusual in my view.  However I will return to the Audrey Appleton shop in the future and will look out for the one in Caesaromagus also!

 
This was an interesting sign to notice.  There were several posted around the town and it is good to see an effort being made to remember the war dead, and not just for two wars, but for a hundred years.  Well done Dunmow!
Our town appears to have done little if anything and the museum has failed to put on even a slight exhibition for the armistice.  This caused a gentle argument in which I may have participated...
I am sick of shopping now...

Of course I may have upset one dour cashier myself, offering a ten pound note for £2 worth of goods and taking all her change.  There again it was the Co-op and I notice that in almost every Co-op the service is poor and the staff unfriendly.  Is it just me?

Caesaromagus

As part of the Christmas shop I joined the happy throng in Caesaromagus this lunchtime.  I had intended to go to the wee town of Great Dunmow and search the Oxfam shop there, rich town rich pickings, but the bus for Caesaromagus came in and I hopped on.  I was going to go there on Monday anyway as Waterstone's Bookshop was my aim.  
So sitting in the sun drenched, not quite zimmer, bus we toddled along through the Essex countryside, green and pleasant, with a mass of greenery to be seen all around from the top deck.  How lovely to get out of town and see distant woods and fields resting for the winter, some of course were still producing green things of various shapes and other the green that comes form having been harvested and prepared for the next round of farming.
The city was crowded, the stalls in the centre joined by a Frank Sinatra imitator sitting on a pedestal accompanied by his big band produced by a tape deck and a loud speaker, not too shabby was he.  At the far end a chap was playing a steel drum kit extremely well also and I wondered if they had licensed the music offerings in the town centre, there were no Bob Dylan clones to be seen.
One or two of what we now must call 'homeless' were to be seen, one sat Muslim prayer style before his empty coffee cup, another had laid out lots of kids toys for sale, though where he got them from is unknown.  
It was almost a summer like scene the day very warm and winter still only threatened for later in the week.  I worked my way through the disappearing number of charity shops and trudged all the way to the far end of the centre to find a one time cheap charity shop now charged huge prices for old goods.  We have become used to some doing that but it is a sad day when they all turn out this way.

The Waterstone's staff were as efficient and cheery as always happily letting me buy three grossly expensive book vouchers while smiling all the time.  I bet she is on a bonus!  The staff were helpful and I found the other day when shopping that was the case in many places in town so I did something about it.  On the local facebook page I put up a post suggesting folks spoke f the good service in various shops and many people jumped in to do just that.  Far too many spend their time miserable and moaning about things but here there was a good response to those who gave good service.  Grasping my vouchers, neatly placed in small envelopes for me along with the myriads of paper bits I made my way through the town.
I had been looking for the charity shops for items relating to our Tuesday show day where we have to dress up.  This appears easy for the women as they have an abundance of offerings at home,  I however as a mere man have to work at this.  One item only I bought, a maroon bow tie, on a stretchy cord, for £2:99 was a bargain from the Caesaromagus Oxfam shop, a place with more bargains than their expensive Bookshop round the corner!  Again the service was pleasant.
Having done all I could I ventured into the cathedral where the bell ringers were giving it laldy high above.  Either they were practising or they were drunk on communion wine, I was not sure which but the sound was continuous for a very long time.  Amazingly the place was deserted, in the middle, possibly to drown out the noise from the bells, a lass was heaving a hoover across the huge empty floor while a man began carrying chairs ready for the next day.  It looked tiring work so I made my way out again.

My last task in the ever warming day was another trip through the indoor market.  On the way there I passed the Essex County Council building which features one block that was built between 1919 and 1939.  Interestingly just above the doorway we find these swastika features.  Part of the decoration that runs around the building.  It was queried a couple of years ago why these were created at that time, Hitler having come to power in 1933, yet no answer has been forthcoming.  It may be a coincidence, possibly a mason had a Moseley like tendency but we may never know.  Nothing has been done about removing them and so far no-one else has complained.  Boris probably admires them...
In the market I collected my chicken bits from the butcher, his vegetarian sausages (he says they contain meat) and then I bought three huge chunks of cheese as I was tempted by the sight of so much on offer.  The nurse did say that time I miss drop cheese but really she is trying to kill me, I must have cheese or I die!  So I bought some including some black 'carob' filled cheese.  The woman said no-one had died from eating it, yet if they had would she know...?

On my way to the bus early this morning I met a lady saying "Excuse me."  Normally I would answer but I know this woman.  Sadly she is mentally ill and once before stopped to ask for 'a penny.'  It took a moment to realise all was not well.  Recently the facebook page has had a long tale of her knocking on doors late at night asking directions or for money.  This has worried some women who were alone at the time.  It worried one mum who discovered she offered to 'toss off her 15 year old  son for £5' an offer we are sadly not able to conform or deny nor to know whether he accepted the offer or not. A later post claimed she wanted £15, a 15 would find it cheaper elsewhere.  Today I made use of a passing mum with pushchair to avoid answering this oriental lady and hastened towards the bus ashamed both of my cowardice and inability to know what to say or do for her.  She is known to the police, probably has some sort of care somewhere but this leaves me guilty about doing nothing and having no idea how to handle the situation.
Helpfully have spent all my money and was seated on top of the bus for the return journey my steaming debit card smouldering in my pocket only one other passenger came upstairs. He sat on the other front seat and proceeded to talk to himself all the way home.  He also had clear problems, possibly from birth but somehow I suspected brain damage from an accident, and I thought it might be a sign of some sort.  I was very wary when once home and piling my new debts on the desk I opened my e-mail very carefully indeed.  You never know what some loon might send me...
Christmas shop almost done...