A moment of madness struck me last night, 'I will go to Chelmsford tomorrow thought I.' So, just after 9:30 this morning I was hobbling down the slope, in spite of the bad pavements in Station Approach, towards the station. Here, an attractive young woman gave me the £8:25 tickets along with the patient smile she usually keeps for he granddad. I noticed on the receipt that they gave me her name, but not her phone number...
The train arrived, the non talking, non smiling passengers boarded silently and soon we left, without announcement, dead on Anglian Railways 10 am service. A smooth ride in these new 720 trains. Nothing but other passengers to upset the travelling public, and those two men in red coats checking tickets of course, they upset some.
The announcement came just after we had left the station and were proceeding at 10 miles per hour towards the next.
At Witham she gave out the cry 'Do not forget to take your luggage, otherwise they may be removed.' Very fitting announcement for London Overspill Witham I thought to myself. A couple of Witham locals with pushchairs entered, I noticed the young men getting off give them a glare as he did so. Here we saw an example of London overspill manners! Me first, I have a baby! At Chelmsford I allowed these two women to get off first, then I fell against a polite Asian gent in a suit man as I alight, I apologise and seek the lift, too many stairs in this station.
I walk through the huge indoor market, check cheese stall and butchers, and pass on. This is one of those 'must see' markets as you never know what will be found there. All the usual stuff of course and those stalls that have a variety of tat, often the tat you and I find interesting. I passed on wondering if I could make it to the High Street and back to the market, l was loath to miss the cheese shop.
I walked through the huge expensive shopping centre with all the right shops noting the girls passing through there not noting me. Have they no 'Specsavers' here?
Anyway, I was becoming desperate for some form of liquid but loath to try these overpriced coffee shops. There is always a coffee stall in the paved High Street among the stalls.
There were no stalls in the High Street today. Bah!
I limped along, wondering if I was doing the right thing, through Bond Street where all the new expensive shops can be found. I searched John Lewis for kitchen knives, eventually finding them locked in a glass case. At those prices they will be remaining locked in glass cases for me.
I did NOT go in!
No fool me, I am unable to afford such shops without book vouchers. So I resisted stoutly. Several people asked if i was OK as I was shivering somewhat as I passed by the shop. Anyway, I shivered as I passed by coming back again heading towards the Oxfam Book shop.
Here I accidentally fell into the Oxfam Book Shop, and I mean accidentally. There is a small 2 inch step at the door which I found by almost landing flat on my face, nobody moved. I saved my self by damaging a display of I know not what to my right, and stood up to face an elderly woman who peeked round expecting to see me on the floor. She sounded disappointed. The volunteer at the cash desk did not look up.
Again I accidently did something, this time I hope wisely. I bought two bags of 'Café Direct' coffee. One from Peru and one from Chiapas, Mexico. I have coffee, which costs me £4 from Sainsburys and £3 from Tesco, but are they worth it. These bags cost £4:59 each, which I thought expensive, then I realised they contained, they say, 200 grams of coffee, the supermarket stuff contains 100 grams. Each 100 gram of Oxfam Fairtrade coffee therefore costs ££2:30, much cheaper. But is it better? It's worth a try. The volunteer was trying his best, but he does not work there every day I suggest, and the couple of our age who let me go first were friendly while I gathered my goods. Several people of an over 50 age group were friendly, those under it slightly less so, as you would expect.
Stumbling like an old man in search of a coffee stall that I could afford I reached M&S. Upstairs I came across an interesting situation in that to get to 'Menswear,' you must first pass through 'Lingerie.' Now I passed through easily enough, there was no reason for that security man to insist I moved, anyway I replaced my camera into my pocket and searched the jackets (male). A summer jacket, made I suspect in Cambodia, was costing £99. £99! And they wonder why M&S is not what it was? I once again passed through the lingerie into the food hall. Here, I searched for bottled water but by accident found a bottle of wine that suits me. I searched diligently for red wine, staring at the £55 level, descending to £30, the £20 and finally £6 level at the bottom. The bottle of Rich and Smooth at £5:75 appeared to be right for me in every way.
What...?
Anyway, they use self service, and I wanted some loose change so chose a cash option. Naturally, not having been before it took the lassie next to me to show where to put the cash. Having dark tills in a dark corner, served by an attractive and bright blonde dressed in black so nobody could find her is not in my view wise. Eventually I and all the confused Essex ladies of a certain age made it to the door.
On my way out I passed a man with a guitar and amplifier killing several songs very well. He may well be famous one day but only when Simon & Garfunkel sue him for murdering their work.
Having decided I was going to suffer anyway I continued back to the market. Spending money is easy I find, even if I do not have any. The cheese shop beckoned, so I walked past the girls in the shopping centre glaring at the camera I was forcing into their faces, and came out a different exit. Walking past the proper Oxfam shop I could see from the large window that nothing there enticed me in.
Now normally, I would sit in the Cathedral when in town but I am not keen these days as this Bishop, a strong candidate for Canterbury, has let the gay mob rule in here, so therefore I have lost interest.
First the butcher for chicken ( 5:99 or 2 for £10) to fill the freezer, then a couple of large cheese chunks £7;50, that will leave me with cholesterol poisoning by Friday, and then hobble slowly, so very slowly up the road to the station, a station that not only appears so far away but it greets you with three steps to climb up! Three steps after two hours of this?
Up lift.
Watch the fat station woman boss people about, give them a stripe and they rule the world.
I sat in the sun for a while knowing my train would be ages yet. However, possible delays, caused by a troublesome passenger, had delayed the last one so I decided to move to Witham, where I watched my by now very heavy bag.
This one came in at 12:34 exactly on time. The trains were running smoothly, the few minutes lost to previous train was made up quickly, and the Anglian Railways staff were good at all times. I did notice so many more hanging about the Chelmsford Station, a clear clamp down on far dodgers, which is why the corporal and her men were wandering up and down all the platform length, to stop folks jumping in or out. Good luck jumping out from that height.
The journey home smooth.
However, climbing up the Arthur's Seat impersonating hill that once was a gentle slope was trying. It is at moments like this you notice the far from smooth pavements, the areas where tree roots come through, and the loose paving slabs that once I unloaded from lorries at a thousand a time.
Up the road, up the stairs, hey who put the light out? Indoors, feet above heart for 10 minutes, eat sausages and cheese, lots of cheese, lots more to come later, sleep for a few minutes, and give thanks for a day out without calling an ambulance.
