Carnival Day

The eager crowds were out, as was the sun, for the carnival parade.  One day in the year when the entire town meets together.  Most have the responsibility of either their kids beside them or spotting a known child on one of the floats and ensuring you get some money into the buckets and nets they hold out as they pass.  The museum wall made an excellent viewing platform and allowed younger kids a safe place to avoid boredom, at least the one that ran past me fifty times was happy enough avoiding boredom! Gran, forced to chase him, was avoiding boredom well also.

The Saturday staff ignored the few visitors who made it through the crowds and soaked up the sun while being annoyed they had run out of suitable leaflets to force on to  present to the punters.  We had some visit before the parade but most afterwards follow it to the parades end where the fairground has been set up, the children enjoying the many rides, the men ruing the closure of the local hostelry!  That has become a 'Tesco Express.'

 
Naturally, as you do in Essex four hundred miles from Scotland's capital city of Edinburgh, the pipes always lead the parade!  'A Scottish Soldier'  was aired as they passed and I considered them the most musical of all the offerings presented to us today.  I suspect these lead many of the local carnivals and most people probably follow all the carnivals around as each small town and villages has one and this keeps the kids happy during the better summer days.  I suspect most of those participating in their floats show up in each march also!

I saw more of these today than I usually see around town these days, no not our man Stuart drinking his lunch, I mean policemen!  I say that and the police station is behind us and their cars turn the corner all the time, usually going in, not out.  Austerity leads to less noticeable policing as staff are cut, although 'Diversity officers' still get £32,000 a year in comparison to a new Bobby's £17,000, why?  On occasions they will blow the siren near my back window just for spite I'm sure.  Today there were lots of them, some even wearing these strange helmets and rumour has it that a blue lamp is contained within but I have never liked to ask.  He didn't recognise me anyway.

This man was having a ball with his flag!  Whatever the reason for the parade the flag was an instrument to be put to use and he was making hay when I noticed him.  For such is the day made and I assume the flag is now above, and possibly in, his bed!

I don't normally go in for candid pictures especially of children but all around they were having a ball watching on expectantly waiting for the next float.  Maybe I am missing the now grown up kids up north or maybe it is just a granddad phase but I enjoy watching them enjoy these days.  Someone of course ought to have ensured these were given info re the museum programme but no leaflets were ready, not that I am one to grumble as you know but here were three £5's for one special event standing here awaiting information. 

This lass on the right was pointing at the museum and telling her uncomprehending friend something about the place, so I snapped her.  I suspect her school or her mum has brought her in and she has remembered well.  Hopefully she will return and it is a shame the girls behind me did not notice this.

This is one of two that appeared to me to be about that Alice woman.  Someone we know wrote a book about her.  Standing at the rear gossiping is Alice herself, ignoring her fans.

I never knew this lot existed and I suppose that is one reason they join in the parade, a good free advertisement.  I preferred this lot to the numerous stick twirlers of varying ability who passed by.  Exercise helps you lose weight they told me, it was my considered opinion that some majorettes have not discovered this yet!  These lads however looked fit enough and this appeared to be a well organised youth group.  As a teenager this would be an attractive option - apart from the bruises and broken bones of course.

 

Then the aging 'Mods' arrived.  Usually they sit at the 'greasy spoon cafe' on a Sunday morning.  No doubt regaling one another of daring do against 'rockers' on their 'BSA's,' 'Triumphs' and 'Norton's' on Southend beach back in the sixties.  The scooter I think is a good way to get around town.  Until recently Stirling Moss, once Britain's greatest racing driver, used one as it was easier in London than anything else.  Only age made him give this up.

 Rent a Princess?

A singing group from afar, six miles away, appear to be putting on a show but I have no idea what it might be.  The cannon firing smoke was good however.

Throughout the country this sort of event will be occurring now.  Not the most earth shattering of events but certainly full of fun for the young ones.  They enjoy parading, mostly sitting waving from a forty ton truck, something mum probably has heart stopping worry over, while dressed up appropriately as a character from the theme.  Something I once disdained as of no interest I now find enjoyable, possibly because of the reaction to certain of the personnel involved as we watched this go by. 
Back to boring old European Champions League final now..... 

The Tuesday Repose

Repose it is indeed as after a busy morning I need to place my blubber filled hulk into a chair and do nothing that taxes the intellect.  This I hear you cry should not take too much bother, and I find myself unable to disagree with that opinion at this moment in time.  
In this neck of the woods it is half term holiday and the schoolkids are filling the streets.  They also filled the museum this morning as we put on little happenings for them.  When I arrived I had not realised this was half term week, I thought it was next week, so I had to prepare for the crowds.  This would have been easier had my colleague turned up but he also was off this week, indeed two others were also leaving me at one end and her who must be obeyed at the other.
The shortage of materials means we must limit the numbers of kids, many have booked themselves in, most have previously paid, but as always others turn up on the day and we hope somebody drops out.  So while several happy mums and kids went through to the event (making volcanoes indeed!) I was met with several who were disappointed.  Hard hearted folks just say 'Too bad' but I felt rotten for the kids as they were a wee bit down, as were mum and a dad or two.  However as the sun shone for once many who bought the whole week ticket (£5 a session or £7 for a whole weeks events) did not bother to turn up, or indeed tell us they were not coming as some of them usually do, so I could send all my disappointed down to the other end.
The stress is killing!
The folks were good about this on the whole but one or two were peeved.  Once they got down there, cutting and pasting, filling and painting, making mess and having fun (mums and dads covered in paint also) they were all delighted and no complaints received.  Most will be back tomorrow!  
The exploding volcanoes (don't ask me how) were used last year and as popular then as now.  The kids thought it great and most took them home.  
Add to this the other customers passing through, the impossibility of leaving the front when I needed to several times, and shop customers actually spending money I found no time through the day to weary.  But I was weary at the end.  By the time I left after helping clear up, more paint on tables than on volcanoes, all was quiet.  How do teachers cope?  How do mums cope I wonder?  I canny mind what it was like to have kids running around, that was so long ago, and in the days of yore I had energy.  In fact several grans and granddads were in today being led by the nose by children.  The men especially were on a lead!  They will be delighted when the week is over!
Now, back to WW2...

Saturday Reading

I find myself entranced at the moment by peoples experiences growing up during the war.  For the exhibition, whenever it is ready, the lass interviewed several locals and I am reading through the transcripts in an attempt to aid deciding what should be broadcast to the public.  Headphones will be provided for the public to listen to the peoples experiences and these are intriguing.
Obviously they were children at the time of varying ages and the greater world was outside their ken but the war touched them in various ways.  There was the loss of dad to the war perhaps, taking part as a young man in the Home Guard ('Dad's Army') or simply living under the flightpath of an airfield checking the numbers of the returning bombers and wondering about the ones that were missing.  John of course was always adventurous, that is why he and other kids ran to an unexploded land mine, one dropped by parachute, and shared some of the parachute between them.  Dad was not so keen and John was informed of his mistake.  Parachute  bombs could cause huge damage for a large area around.  
Memories fade with time, as some of you will be well aware, what was I saying...anyway memories fade in time but the gist of the experience does not.  Emotions remain, especially when noise from explosions is great also, fear aiding memory then right enough, and the emotion often remains long after exact memory has departed.  Double checking does show how much of memory is correct even when exact details were not clear at the time.  Specific events can never be forgotten, such as a plane low over the houses shooting and killing passersby, or the long wait at the station for dad to return on leave and he does not come, that remains fresh in some.  
The impression given by some is that war for kids was boring in that trips away were not allowed, sweets and food was in short supply and dad was often away from home, mum too sometimes, otherwise it was a lot of fun!  The kids had adventures, parties from Americans at the airfields, chewing gum aplenty, and fun with things dropped from service personnel, often things they should not have touched!  Children can have fun with a cardboard box if need be and war, if they are fed well enough, will not stop that.  

The sun shines tonight, the kids are enjoying Saturday pleasures at home, well fed and wrapped up in some television rubbish no doubt.  However in far flung parts of the globe other children suffer war and we no little, and care less, about them.  They hunger and thirst while bombs drop, although if fed they will find fun somewhere.  It is too easy to forget the troubles elsewhere when our sun shines. 

Seven transcripts read, each takes almost half an hour and the time flies by but not when I have football to watch!  I am so glad the season will be over soon, I need a rest!  Seven to read and half way through.  Quite how these folks have made it into their eighties and nineties I know not.  On the other hand I suspect some of these will make it into the hundreds yet!


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A Tiring Day

The strange weather, neither Autumn nor Winter, has confused the plants and the beasties. Some plants have wonderful blossoms on show and all around lie dead leaves blown off the trees.  Beasties that should only show in Spring occasionally pass by wondering why they are not hibernating or dead yet. It's all very confusing really.  

I was quite confused myself today as I, with two others, attempted to deal with a herd of wildebeest at the museum.  A large school party arrived and sauntered around eight or ten at a time.  For most of the morning we sold our goods, checked the change, indicated £4 was not enough to buy £5:90's worth and helped the maths by suggesting dumping one or two items.  On the whole it was successful but at the end off the first half dozen groups we were reaching for the tea wishing it was brandy!  When I left there was a similar number still to come!  Quite how they got so many on those buses I am not sure.  It was good fun but exhausting.  Quite how people decide to become teachers is beyond me!

One or two of the brats were a wee bit out of order, not unusual that, however talking to the lass who plays the Victorian teacher she was going on about the indiscipline in schools today. She herself is a retired teacher, all our Victorian teachers are, and upset that so little personal responsibility is taught. That begins in the home and so many kids do not have a stable home. The nuclear family is the only way and yet many of these kids have no idea of what this could be. Her complaint was really about the 'rage' and 'anger' that she finds in children, 9 or 10 years of age, because of problems at home. Indiscipline in school plus a policy of not touching or shouting at kids does not help.  At one school she was asked to leave because she 'touched children.'  The two boys were fighting under the desks and she pulled them apart!  The teaching assistant complained and she had to leave!  Good grief!  Pull them apart and six of the belt and no more problems, or at least less often problems.  Liberal parents, liberal schools, and a demand your rights approach does not produce kids prepared for life.  They might end up as teachers!   

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Museum's Twentieth Birthday!

It is twenty years since the museum moved into the old school.  Today as a small celebration we had old Austin Cars outside, Face painting (for kids!), a World War 2 group with lots of stuff, spider making for kids and other activities likely to bring in the punters.  Over two hundred wandered through.  

My day was spent rushing around obeying orders or talking to a variety of people about history, or children!  Do you understand how difficult it is to blow up balloons and attach them to a stick?  I do now!!!  All the high heid yins turned up for the presentation at the end, when we had chucked the public out, and cake and imitation champagne was the order of the day.  However I ended up washing the glasses once again.  Just where do the women disappear to when washing up time comes around?  

                                                            An Air Raid Warden on Duty.

Watching the man turn balloons into a variety of shapes for the kids was a great experience. Stupidly I forgot to take pictures of them as their faces were brilliant!  He and I wandered the streets giving out leaflets and offering such balloon creations to whoever wanted them.  No better way to disrupt the street market on a busy Saturday!   Now my feet and all else are killing me and I have tons of research bits to do.  A good day all round.

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Rough....

Museum, 'On the Beach,' 3,000,000 children, Bouncy Castle, Children, 'Fish for Ducks' and get prizes, more children, 'Knock the Cans for lollipop, lots more children, 'Punch and Judy,' return children to Mums,  clean up, crawl home, sleeeeep......    

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Quandry

After the hot sunshine of yesterday it was no surprise to spend the morning inside dodging the thunder and lightning.  Clouds rolled over and the thunder rolled through it all morning.  The rain came down like stair rods and the poor postie must have been saturated before he got very far.  I told him not to worry, I was alright!  I didn't catch what he said.  However when the lightning was at its height I discovered an old pair of boots, missing for a very long time.  It is amazing what you see when lying prone, breathing dust under the bed.

When all had passed by I promenaded through the town wondering if anyone had missed me. None spoke.  Not even those who had quickly secured their seats outside the pub, and how much had they consumed in a short time, bothered to glare in my direction.  I crossed the park, which was almost deserted bar a woman with several kids on a bench in the distance.  A child of about three rode a bike, she rode it somewhat directionless I thought before realising she was riding it directly at me.  She stopped in front of me and looked, kids often do and I sort of panicked.  The mother was at a large distance and the thought I may be seen as a paedophile talking to her kid crossed my mind, so I moved on.  Now normally I would speak to such children, normally I would not react like this, normally I would treat the brat as they deserve but on this occasion, possibly because so few were about, I moved on feeling guilty I may have bemused the child.  Here I am worried I may find a short haired, dangly earringed harridan chasing me!  What sort of neurotic world do I find myself in?  Is it just me?  Children of that age I look upon as a granddad would, except I keep the cash in my pocket, and I would prefer to react normally and chat like I feel we should.  The kids may be OK but too many mothers are not these days.  Some fathers, when they exist, are worse!

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A Walk in the Sunshine

Wigan

The bright and almost warm sunshine this afternoon reminded me of my time as a postman walking the streets in summer, on a bike!  Always the bets way to walk the streets.  At that time the daft new rules had been brought in, the Union rolling over and submitting to the bosses in their usual manner, rules that changed this pleasant but hard job into a hard and unpleasant routine for many.
Delivering early in the sun is great.  The cats all greet you, imagining you will open the door and feed them, instead you speak to them, post the mail and turn away.  The cats then possess an expression that would make Maggie Thatcher tremble!  At some times of the year the bushes in the gardens would be covered in what looks like thin white silk.  This turns out to be spiders webs about a foot or so across, often a dozen or more on a bush.  The morning dew added a glint in the sun to these, although difficult to photograph properly I find.  The dew on lavender plants heightening the fragrance as you brush past the stalks leaning over the pathways.  Lavender is a common plant in this area, the long purple rows can be seen on many farms. The scent wafted around as I passed but the cats did not appear to care.

In those days I often met with mothers taking the brats to school.  On on occasion I rang the bell just as mum was yelling "Get down here this minute! I said NOW! not tomorrow!"  She opened the bell somewhat sheepishly realising I must have overheard.  "Don't worry lass," Says I, "Every other house down the road is doing exactly the same."  Indeed they were.  The house where a child, or children, trotted cheerfully and quickly off to school does not exist.  Some parents believe others have an easy time with their kids, they are wrong!  All children are brats!  As I returned from a house further along the family were now acting out 'happiness and obedience' in the same style all the other mums dragging their brood to primary school were.   Kids often look out for the postman.  On occasions wee George will be straining to see the postman, meaning the regular man will hesitate before moving on so as to wave to the boy.  This will continue for several days and suddenly stop.  Wee George has lost interest and possibly has another to wave to.   

Postmen of course do not deliver to you.  Postmen deliver to an address.  No 24 is what matters, not Mrs Smith.  Postmen sign the Secrets Act because the mail belongs to 'Her Majesty the English Queen,' although she never makes any attempt to deliver it herself.  So much for sex equality!  What is delivered is none of the postie's business, he just carries the stuff, and if he discovers what is being sent, from whom and to whom, he cannot pass on such information to anyone, even the police.  Any legitimate authority must go through the proper channels if required.  Naturally it is not difficult to guess what many people (called 'customers today') are receiving  however few will really care.  Nosiness has its limits, especially when there are several more sacks of mail to get through.  It is customary for postmen to act natural with 'customers' in spite of the sex machines, interesting pills, and other legal implements that show through badly packaged mail.  

People are strange.  Most I met around here were sensible enough, boringly normal for the most part, but occasionally something will arise.  One postman in Chelmsford was apparently met by a naked women (age not known) as he desired a signature for an item.  He was later informed by a policeman friend that he could have been done as a 'peeping tom' for that!  I doubt he would have been.  I might have waited until she signed and suggested "You'd better put some clothes on lass, they will think he wants you for your money!"
The nearest I got was a young lass in her underwear who possibly expected the parcel van driver. She certainly was disappointed to see me.  I managed not to suggest that a diet would help her love life.  But only just.  

Ah memories.  Memories are of course better than the pain in the knees, the weight of the mail, the unfortunate management, the rain, the hail, the snow and on occasion the sunshine.  One year some folks were claiming it was too hot!  Stupid men!  These were the ones who sit in a little van going around the villages.  In between stops for coffee from friendly farmers daughters and one or two wives, something we 'townies' never got, the sun shining through the windscreen must have made life difficult for them on their 300 drops.  I had 500 at least!!!  Bah!  Well it is a good job I was never one to complain, as there were reasons to.  Being a postman, on the good days, was once a very enjoyable job, and I had hoped to continue this until I retired.  Maybe of course the knee has saved me many troubles as I do not think I would enjoy the confused and overworked life such men endure today.  Yes I know what you are saying, women are postmen also.  However in those uniforms it was difficult to tell!

Old-Pictures

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Baby

That excellent man Mike has posted a short rant opinion on those folks who insist on placing stickers like the one above in their car windows. The idea is that you will drive carefully because there is a child in the car. This means that a single person, usually a male, is a target I suppose? This is so typical of parents today. In days of yore a child was born, raised, and life continued. In the last thirty years the feminist lie has made women see themselves as the only person in the world, as if they needed encouragement to do this? Women who are boasting to their friends that they are a 'proper woman' now they have had a child impress no-one, but annoy plenty. Also the 'New Man' phenomena, in which a 'man' behaves like his wife, although he probably doesn't marry her because that is a mere 'bit of paper,' this type of 'man' ensures he changes nappies, irons his shirts and even cooks the dinner. It makes you wonder why he bothered buying her in the first place doesn't it? He walks down the street pram pushing and showing of his kid to the world.


Let me tell these parents a secret, the world doesn't care!


The world has also pushed prams, but did not ensure the 'right people' noticed. The world has also shown consideration to children, but in an appropriate manner, the world has also changed nappies and does not wish to do so again, and the world finds this obsession with children a pain in the potty! It is important that car drivers show consideration to all the other idiots on the road, not just 'yummy mummies' with their bairns. It is important that men show care for their child, but not just because it is a passing fashion she has read about in a magazine! It is time folks considered that others were as important as their offspring, and encouraged the 'fruit of their loins' to do likewise. That way the world would be a better place.

Paul McIlroy

Following on from the excellent disused rail stations of yesterday, which only a woman could object to, I came across this picture on 'Geograph,' this evening. As you can tell, this is Dunfermline Town Station! This station of course used to be known as 'Dunfermline Lower' because of the other station called, cleverly, 'Dunfermline Upper,' They knew how to name things in the old days! Being deprived by a lack of money our holidays in the days of steam trains often took us to relatives in Fife, either Cowdenbeath or Dunfermline, and I have fond memories of the excellent people found there. On the whole good times, although I was often bored in Dunfermline and found myself wandering along to the railway to gaze at passing steam engines that thundered along this busy line. Pacific's headed from London to Aberdeen, sometimes the 'Mallard' type streamlined Pacific's' would pass, heavy goods trains, innumerable coal trains with fifty or more wagons trundling along from Fifes many pits, and all the local traffic you could wish for. I cannot ever mind of observing any of the diesel, 'Deltic' type, engines in use, but the imperialist English never allowed the Scots the latest traction, we only got the older stuff pushed up north out of their way! 

The station now looks forlorn, the buildings on the left hand side of the picture no more than shabby blocks which replace the intricate Victorian waiting rooms, with their intricate designs, and excellent cover, that once stood there. Now this station, once the main line for thousands passing by, which shook to the cries of the porters,passengers, and hissing engines, now finds one train an hour headed in either direction, mostly commuters aiming for work in Edinburgh. I suspect the photograph is taken from the old bridge where I used to hang over the side as trains passed beneath, enjoying the experience of being covered in steam from the engine. I found it hard to understand my mothers complaints about my 'black face' as the steam was always white! Women, they have no understanding or heart for things of value, have they?