Big Town

The watery sun tempted me to strive for the big town today so placing several shiny shillings in my pocket I hurried of for the bus.  The journey was slightly longer than usual as the early twentieth century roads struggle to cope with twenty first century traffic, especially as Farmer Jones on his tractor or his wife on the Landrover doddle along the road with no sense of hurry about them.  On top of this the stupidity of speeding motorists who consider crashing into any oncoming traffic, motorbikes, cyclists or horses a sensible thing to do when all it does it kill one or two bend your car and cause massive hold ups for miles along the way beats me.  Today we only had a tractor or two hindering progress but come harvest time huge machines jump from field to field grabbing crops and annoying bus passengers.  
I made it however with only a few minutes delay and immediately sped for the charity shops, I, you see, was after a new summer type jacket on the cheap.   One such shop out of many investigated offered the perfect jacket!  A darkish gray corduroy jacket in immaculate condition.  One thing spoiled it all, it was one size too small!  I replaced it unwillingly and noted the 'half price' ticket reading £2:50.  I would gladly have paid £5!
The rest of them offered nothing for me and a rushed chase through the chain stores discovered only hugely expensive items near the mark and a disappointing array of summer apparel aimed at the colour blind and stupid!  How anyone could wear most of what was on offer let alone pay the price required had me heading back to then charity shops.  I note that 'Harris Tweed' jackets were available also in several shades, for a mere £195.  I could buy a house on Harris for that!
I returned to the crowds who walked slowly in front of me, turned right or left with no consideration, blocked the path while staring, gossiping, seeking directions or just lost in space.  With my usual grace I kicked them out the way.

Naturally the watery sun had left us with watery rain.  This pleased me no end so I climbed back on the bus, having been caught between two stops when it approached, and rested my now aching hulk on the top deck.  The timing was good as no kids were on this time.  Half term sees mum drag the brats onto buses to share the pleasure of their company.  I found sharing the pleasure easier when they stay at home.  Cogitating on the near miss with the jacket I pondered as to why jackets suitable for men of a certain age cannot be obtained these days.  Thousands of other types are available, like the one I was looking for last year and could not find, but cord jackets cannot be obtained outside of charity shops.  That's at least three times this has happened to me, good job I am not one to complain.

Lashing rain came down so hard at one point it began to leak through the roof of the bus.  Quite how it got in i could not see but the few of us up there managed to avoid it.  This is the end of May, just wait till 'Blooming June' arrives and then we will see rain!  
We turned off the road to trundle through a small addition to a small village. This comprises several streets of 1960's style houses, three or four different types on view, most of which featured large windows to let in light and all of which wore net curtains to keep it out!  I cringed at these little boxes.  These are in themselves nice wee houses right enough, probably nothing in themselves worth grumbling at, but it is the number of them, in all the streets, the sheer boring nature of developments like this make my skin crawl!  
Now I realise many have old folks wasting away their lives here, surely life has more to offer?  Others might have young families growing up in safety, but it's so boring!  This small, neat estate may well be safe, secure, and near to town but it would not suit me, or indeed most of us.  
I realise also that the lives behind the lace curtains may not be so quiet, wife swapping, demon worship, psychopathic killers, and would be accountants dwell in them thar places.  Several of the neighbours will not talk to one another, some are alcoholics, worse still some are train spotters whose anoracks can be seen drying out in the back gardens as we pass.  
I was glad the bus moved through without stopping, just in case one of this lot wished to get on!  The sight of proper houses dating back several hundred years, maybe more depending on the condition of the paint on the house, was a delight and heartening after the sheer boredom of such housing estates. 

No excitement tomorrow, just two cup finals to watch as I rest my bones.

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Fire, Library, Butcher.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ah fame!

    

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Thursday Shopping!

This depressing view is how we shop today.  Romance tells us that in the past small shops were friendlier, more sociable and more human.  The last is certainly true!  The sociability and friendliness depended on the shop owner but their size at least was easier for as human to comprehend.  Today large shopping centres are geared to the rich man in his automobile, leaving a depressing emptiness outside, even if clean and safe.  The large buildings house all those shiny things we long desperately for, whether they make us happy or just fill our emptiness is another question.  Today in search of something shiny I took myself to the Stanway centre by bus, I left the Bentley in the garage.  

Now some weeks ago it came into my head to fix the broken PC, I need this in working order in case the laptop dies, dead computer means life as we know it comes to a halt, and that will never do! Struggling with this idea I was in Chelmsford, at Maplins shop, investigating a motherboard an other nameless bits on the shelves there.  My brilliant brain decided to leave it and investigate PC World and the vast stocks on their shelves, therefore I was here in their Stanway shop.  Here I discovered, via a friendly and competent young assistant, that since uniting with 'Curry's,' PC World/Currys no longer stock the inside bits for PCs, only shiny new ones.  The young lad suggests I try 'Maplins,' they stock motherboards he offers helpfully.  My slumped shoulders headed for the bus stop where I caught the next one into Colchester itself in the vain hope that their shop would be readily available in the town centre, it wasn't!  Bah!  So I wandered about, avoiding the charity and book shop temptations keeping my eyes upwards looking in case something interesting was to be found.  Several bumps into people and street furniture later I changed my approach.

      

Behind the Roman wall at what once was the edge of town stands St Mary at the Wall a redundant church that has stood here for around a thousand years and now is merely an 'arts' centre.  I suspect it will be an excellent venue according to the many big names that have appeared there, it must hold a thousand or so in the main hall.  Had it not been for the dual carriageway someone had dumped in front of me I would have had a closer look.  

This is a pub called 'The Bull.'  They have enabled even the daftest to realise this by placing a 'bull' high above the door.  This of course was what was done in days of yore when education was lacking, even the daftest could tell the difference between a bull and a Swan, as many were named.  The flags are out to tempt people to watch the 'Six Nations' rugby which is on at the moment. Sadly the sun shines on the other side of the street hence the dullness.

  

The Edwardian's liked fancy buildings!  The Baroque Town Hall was built in 1902 with a rich patron, James Paxman, paying for the tower soaring high above crowned by the statue of St Helena the towns patron saint.   Inside and out it represents the wealth the men of the town wished to impress upon the world, and bask in reflected glory themselves.  No doubt some of those men were around when Henry Charles Fehr sculpted the war memorial raised in 1923.  The usual words bedeck the memorial as the townspeople attempted to believe their war was indeed just and glorious.  Memorials raised today do not inspire such admiration I think.

I was unable to find 'Maplins,' probably because it lay on the other side of town from where I landed, so instead had a closer look at the 15th century gatehouse to St Johns Abbey, the only remaining part of said abbey.  Besieged during the English Civil War, which was not very civil as may lost their heads here, the gatehouse survives although behind lies merely a car park, and only for the use of the members of the organisation based here.  

At one time this supported a statue of either a saint or a local worthy, today it just wears away in the rain.  The siege may also have caused damage, the twin was almost worn away.  

Inside the small gate reflects the small size of people in those days, six foot tall people were unusual at the time, and I wondered about the people who peered from the windows at those waiting outside for them.  The Benedictines moved in late in the 11th century and moved out when Henry VIII kicked them out.  The Abbot refused to hand the place over and was gently hanged just outside the gate. Henry had no patience in those days.  The Lucas family took over and moved in, sadly they supported the crown during the civil war in 1648 and this led to their end and the bits of damage to the gatehouse.  The buildings inside disappeared over the years.

I was impressed by this wee house, dated 1823, clearly enlarged since and more so round the back I noticed, but remaining a delightful small cottage.  I am not jealous I state here, not jealous at all.  St John's Green primary school also drew my admiration, although I am not willing to attend there.  Built in 1898 in a kind of Dutch style it reflected the weaving history of the area and the Flemish connections from the past.  

  
As infants rarely have the ability to read I am struck by how many old schools put directions above the doors to ensure the wee ones went into the right area. Maybe they were a wee bit brainier in those day?

This area abounds in churches that date back a millennium, the disused Church of St Giles goes back to the 12th century but I am not sure what it is used for these days, signs are not obvious. The tower got my attention, that appears very Saxon in its style but it dates from around 1700ish.  As always it has been amended and added to over the years but now lies quietly surrounded by the iron railings that also go back to the 1700's.  

Behind me as I took this picture lay the main police station, the cells I believe lie behind the small square, thick glass windows I leant against, you may no better.  When this station was built in the 80's an archaeological dig discovered 371 Roman burials and this building dating from 320 - 340.  The evidence indicates this could be the earliest church building in the British Isles but further evidence is wanting.  Some reckon it is possibly a Roman soldiers Mythraeum, but they would, wouldn't they?   Ever known archaeologists to agree?  Bah!

Having wandered around the town with my money still in my pocket I splashed out on a £1.50 coffee from this man at the bus station and well worth it it was! I was intrigued as to how somebody ends up running a very successful coffee stall and it transpires this man is an ex-serviceman.  That got me wondering also.  Now he may be happy in his work, he may be making a good profit, this is a busy place to operate, and he may well make sufficient to keep his family happy but it suddenly seemed sad that a man who risked his life in Northern Ireland and Afghanistan should be running a coffee stall.  As stated he might well be happy but it seems to me men who have risked lives for the nation could be getting better treatment than they do, especially when they are capable, knowledgeable and possess that amiability we often find in such men. I am just glad he is as fit as he is, IDS would be naming him in parliament otherwise.

While admiring Coggeshall's old buildings and remembering I was going to visit there I found this cat that I noticed last time.  He slinks on the roof high above the crowd looking for birds that are not gathering in front of him.  Maybe they think he is real!  It reminds those with cameras to always look up, and check it is safe to do so, as above the shop doorways there is often something intriguing awaiting you. 

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Now I'm not one to Complain, but.....

I went down to board the 'Worst Bus' this morning and found it living up to it's name.  Who, I wish to know, considers using a single decker bus on a busy route that includes hordes of degenerates heading for Sixth Form College?   The bus filled with them, and at each stop, so many stops, more got on each one absorbed in his 'iPad' (who pays?), 'Walkman' or discussing (loudly) their lives with their neighbours!  The ability to absorb knowledge concerning the important subjects that cause the poor dears such trauma come exam time appears not to include an ability to move from the front door of the bus until the driver chides them, blocking access or escape, and general consideration for others!  Bah!  In my day we had jobs and kept the wheels of industry turning, none of this needless education until we sign on for three years for my generation.  On top of this the brats had the best seats, my late arrival meant I had one of those low slung seats where the sun is enabled to burn your face as you travel.  Oh joy!

Naturally all these creatures left the bus at my stop thus blocking the pavements for miles around and folks with important shopping had to force their way through as they discarded their breakfasts across the streets.  However was it worth the effort?  No it was not!  The desperately required jacket was not available in any shop that I entered, well once or twice something similar was on offer, at prices ranging from £65 - £180!!!!!  Yer having a laff pal!  In BHS (I think, they all look the same to me) not only did they almost have what I wanted, almost at the price I might pay but having a stand of some sort of cards next to the jackets, so close that I knocked the some off the rack, picked them up, as others fell, picked them up, carried on with my research while knocking more cards, hooks they were hanging on and then more cards off the rack, which I then just dumped on the floor under the stand.  Enough looking at their prices with restocking their display stands I thought.  No member of staff moved, or appeared to care.  I lost interest in the jackets and there were no lingerie nearby to ensure I remained in that store either!

  
The 'Castle' is undergoing a major renovation that must be costing millions of pounds.  Our little museum will be doing similar shortly.  The miserly government that happily encourages massive losses on privatised industries, MOD spending, and Tax dodging by their friends, has cut funding for 'Heritage' projects UK wide.  No moneyed friends in this business obviously, so all such organisations have to go into debt to prepare for self funding.  Many will close I foresee.  This little exhibition in the gardens can be given a well deserved Gold Star in my view.  They may have stolen Edinburgh's Chinese Pandas but they have done this very well.

St Botolph's admirable doorway.  Standing next to the old priory ruins mentioned earlier this year this impressive building is hidden behind the main road.  Once upon a time it must have been in an open space I reckon.  I called this 'impressive,' but really is dark gray, darkened by years of smoke soot, really the best brick to use for such a building?  At least this building is still in general use. 

It's tower is quite tall, too tall for my wee camera.

Good news and bad news!  The good news is the discovery of a proper bookshop!  Hooray!!  The bad news is the fact that it is closing down!  Boo!!  The only real bookshop, and this is a very real bookshop, in Colchester is about to end its days.  The owner is retiring, not going bust, so the shop surely can continue, however no-one is keen to take over and keep the shop open, this is very sad news indeed.  The shop contains lots of shelves, lined up in such a way as to make browsing enjoyable.  Books of all types are found there, even in boxes on the floor, with much more upstairs.  A proper bookshop with knowledgeable friendly staff and with no intention of buying books today, indeed I rushed about the Oxfam Bookshop with a less than friendly member of staff, as books were not in my mind today, yet I found myself missing my bus having browsed with no intention of buying for forty minutes.  As however the shop is closing and all books a re Half Price I managed to buy three for a mere £5, less than I thought as I did not really calculate the cost as I browsed, very unlike me I hear you say.  A wonderful place to go, especially when you have not found a proper bookshop for many year.  Want an investment?  Buy this shop!

St John's Gate is all that remains of a Benedictine Abbey built C.1400.  After the 'Peasant's Revolt' in 1381 it was decided to strengthen their defences, how these folks helped the poor eh?  After the English Civil War and Henry VIII all that remains is this gate.  Does it go anywhere?  I know not as I had no time, or energy, to clamber over all the roads to find out.  Shooting into the sun is not easy, especially as I had to cut out the road signs that made fitting the gate into a picture.  

At the bus station I decided to stay alive by spending big on a coffee.  Normally I would not waste my cash on such, grossly overpriced coffee from the abundant cafe's never appeal to me,  yet as I was close to death after running around I considered it worth a gamble.  "Cheapest Coffee Please," I requested, and was given the cheapest (£1:50) by the helpful friendly chap at the stall. Poor man, his sales are increasing while the weather deteriorates but he also is suffering from the weather, which will make him deteriorate as time passes.  However the coffee was good and kept me alive, much to many others displeasure, and I may well head for this place next time I am in town.

Happily the bus home appeared as a double decker!  I smiled smugly to myself and soon lost the leering grin as other degenerates appeared from cracks in the pavement and boarded in their turn.  At least upstairs I got a decent view from the front, everything looks better from high up. However the bus decided to pick up all the old folks with free bus passes ("cough!").  They take their time boarding, each stop provided more of them, and indeed at each stop we stopped!  I was beginning to wonder if we would ever leave the town and arrive at the countryside again.  After a short lifetime, and I have had a few of those, we eventually found the open road.  This, naturally, was blocked by a rubbish lorry and the following parade of vehicles each one determined to get through in spite of the bus blocking their progress!  Bah!  

When we eventually arrived at the village with its narrow streets we found a white van man buying his lunch.  His van allowing cars past but not our bus.  The driver had to get out and chase him from 'Spar' before we could continue.  Arriving in town again and dreaming of lunch he stopped the bus on the outskirts and switched off the engine.  Sighs, deep and heartfelt, were heard throughout the bus.  We have all been there, the bus stops and an announcement, "We have broken down, a replacement will be along soon."  The bus companies use of the word 'soon,' might breach the trades description act!  However after a radio conversation including the words, 'red button comes on,' and 'bus station,' we began to believe we might make it home.

We did, and I decided that I will adjust the hours in which I travel, but I must travel back there, the bookshop closes in October and it is a great shop.  Now I must find some money for my next trip, and I forgot all about the jacket....

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The Other Big Town Trip.

From the window of the five past eight bus this morning I snapped as well as I could the sun shining on the local harvest.  One problem city dwellers (Known as 'Townies') fail to comprehend is the delay caused by a tractor wending its merry way to the next field along.  While farmer Jones is contemplating his profit, added to by the generous EU, CAP which is why he is merry, the vehicles behind are filled with smouldering folks who were not in a hurry when they set out.  The trail behind a vehicle dropping lumps of mud from his giant tyres can stretch for several miles. Today I smiled benignly at the people in just that position as they were headed in the opposite direction to my bus.  They however did not respond kindly.  There is little to beat sitting upstairs on a near empty bus in the early morning as I am sure you know.  Had I ventured out an hour or so later a bus full of chatting women and screaming brats may well have been my lot.  I also noted that according to my timetable a bus left here every twenty minutes, however a returning bus only departed every thirty minutes!  Three go out and only two return, a mystery indeed. Could there be a depot somewhere with dozens of buses waiting around for their drivers to return I wonder?  This reminds me of the No 8 London bus rescheduling in the late 70's.  The drivers pointed out that had they followed the timetable ALL the buses would be travelling in the same direction at one time!  Tsk!     

The bells of St Peter's well ringing loud as I passed, a peal that went on for quite some time. Possibly they do this regularly as this is one of the Anglo Catholic churches that likes to be part of the town.  The not quite musty interior is lit only by the large window at the far end.  The dim light is sufficient for individuals needs, allowing some privacy in a busy town.  The bells were only heard dimly in this ancient church, which has its own mention in the 'Domesday Book,' would you believe!  The picture may indicate the interior was slightly lighter than it may have been to my eyes.  I find this quiet spot strangely attractive myself.

With a camera in the hand it is important to always look up when in town.   The horrid tardy shop fronts and entrances of today could hide past architectural delights.  Above the dingy entrance I noticed that this once was the 'Grand Theatre,' no doubt home to many great stars, and a few bum ones also, of the past.  Today it appears to be one of those 'clubs' young folks take delight in, although I myself canny remember why.  

Adjoining this theatre is another pub, this time however an interesting looking building that stands on the ground that since the 18th century bore the name 'Lamb Hotel,' although this has been changed many times in recent years.  I suppose there must have been a market nearby and farmers would gather for lunch here.  This present building dates from 1905 and the present owners have not defaced the building thankfully.  Sadly the High Street is a mucky place, not helped by traffic that has to pass through, there is little else that can be done to move it.  This pic does show what lies unseen above our heads.  Look up when out, but look down and ahead first! 

  

On the other side of the street stands the Red Lion Hotel, still operating as such, and with a history dating back to 1495.  The mock Tudor front dates back about 20 years however and quite a lot of pubs do themselves up this way to make themselves look older.  This I suggest is to attract the customer who likes his old buildings to look like his imagination tells him it ought to look!  Ah the teaching of History cannot defeat the wishful thinking of the individual!

On either side of the entrance stands these two gentlemen.  The one on the left appears to be wearing a crown (Henry VII would be King in 1495 followed by Henry VIII) but the other is less discernible.  Maybe he represents one of the town worthies, maybe a traveller, maybe the first or later owner.  I am unclear and find nothing to aid me.

I had to laugh at this sign.  The A120 is the straight road home, called 'Stane Street' after the Romans worked on it some time back, and normal weekly traffic numbers are very high.  The fact that the warning of advance works end with the words, 'Delays Possible,' did make me laugh!

Well might you ask what such dereliction is doing here.  This is a once busy car park at one of those 'out of town' shopping centres.  There are still several major businesses working there but so many have gone that this large car park has become disused and is dying slowly.  What are the chances of the Tories upsurge in the economy of bringing this back to life soon I wonder?  All around this area lies the beginning of development which has ceased since 2008.  I am not sure whether I prefer the wide open acres filled with beasties to the modern empty office blocks that ought to be arising there.  The economy requires it but we need open spaces.  Just passing by these fields, the ancient houses and wondering what life was like for the souls found there in days of yore does take away from the shopping experience that saw all charity shops visited and two books and a handful of birthday cards bought, still no jacket......  

What?  You have had enough?  OK, I will bore you with more later.....

St Botolph's Priory

After the Roman retreat from southern Britain the Anglo Saxons came to dominate the area, forcing the remaining locals to move to Wales, how cruel can you be?  Occupation of Colchester had continued and the Saxon's built a Minster there.  Once William the Conqueror (a name he preferred to his previous title, 'William the Bastard') was in control an abbey was begin shortly after the Norman's began to build the castle on the ruins of the Roman Basilica.   The Priory did not do well.  Monks arrived and left in short order, possibly because the bishop was not too generous towards them.  This was to be the story of the following years.  While Bury St Edmunds developed with the body of the saint in residence Colchester had no relics, no books being written and no great men to bring in the crowds or the wealth.  Many efforts were made over the years to produce a satisfactory life but this place never became wealthy.

 Colchester itself appears to do little but exist around the five hundred years of the priories existence, although they did receive a  charter from the king and around 1300 AD contained a population of possibly 4000, although the taxation roll only names 390!  Conservative politicians fiddling tax even then?  Occasionally a King would visit, the castle would be endangered by a siege from the Danes or French, an occasional plague and of course the Peasants revolt passed through in 1381.  'Long live John Ball!'  

In 1403 the then Abbot, one Geoffrey, became embroiled in a plot to bring Richard II to the throne.  Not surprisingly this never occurred and in spite of being given clemency he once more got involved in treasonable acts.  He died in prison of a disease of the throat.  These men were very influential in their day, related to Kings and Queens, often of the royal line themselves, and on the odd occasion a Christian might make it near the top.  Politics was too important to let that happen.  However by 1539 the then man in charge, one John Beche, disagreed with Henry VIII to the extent that he lost his head over it on December the 1st  that year.  And a Merry Christmas to you mate!  Since that time the building has fallen into disrepair.  Built from materials at hand, no building stone in this county, Roman remains were used alongside anything lying around.  An impressive building arose, the walls once covered by plaster which has since fallen away to reveal the flints beneath.  

Now standing somewhat desolate the council have ensured the ruin will not collapse any further and the place forms a hideaway for the derelicts of the town.  Three such were minding their own business as I wandered about yesterday, heedless of the fool with the camera or the many others who followed the path from one of the town's stations into the heart of the place.  A somewhat sad story.  A towering building that never saw fame, was a disappointment to many who spent time there, and now stands forlorn, almost hidden from view.   The stonework, mostly Roman I say, around the door shows some extent of the hope that someone once had for the place.

Priory story    

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The Big City, in Comparison....

Early this morning, clutching my FREE Bus Pass, I wandered down to the bus station go shopping in the big town.  I had the choice of two towns to visit and against my better judgement I went into Camoludunum.  There I planned to visit Waterstones, a second hand bookshop, a Christian bookshop, a shop selling almost every odd thing you need but don't have, and acquire a couple of T-shirts to replace dying stock.

From the off there were problems.  For a start the driver did not want to let me on.  
"Is that your dad's pass?" He asked brusquely.  
Tempting as it was to agree with him the woman behind me, whom I once delivered mail to, intervened.
"Nah! He's a miserable old git right enough!" She said somewhat too eagerly.
As I climbed the stairs I mused on how willingly the driver accepted her opinion! Bah!

Ah, upstairs on a bus!  An unusual experience these days for me.  Useful for looking into passing gardens and people's windows, seeing life hidden from normal view and giving a new outlook on the world.  Few others joined us, half term means kids are out and about but few joined us today I'm glad to say.  Two grans brought two primary school kids to the front seats and almost immediately a chinky bloke sat alongside them.  Seconds later the male child was sitting on his knee as a joke, and I noticed the grans holding their handbags cudgel fashion.  When I next looked one gran was quietly sitting behind him.  Subtle.  He was no danger, the man was just socially unaware, as he would soon be made aware if the women misunderstood.

Passing through a village I noticed once again the quaintness of the ancient houses, the narrowness of the road compared to the size of a double decker bus, and recalled that while this place looked interesting the people were, somewhat insular!  English you see, they are not egalitarian like what we are.  During the plague this village blocked the road with barriers to stop the plague getting in!  I must go back there, when the sun shines, and have a browse at the prices in the shop windows.  Sadly the day remained overcast until I was heading home again, and wee villages require sunshine.  The quaint houses compared badly to the shopping centre some miles further on, in particular the new 'Sainsburys' that surprised me by its size!  It was as big as a football stadium!  On the other side stood a 'Boots' with a 'Drive Thru Prescription' service!  Now excuse me but who uses that?  Do you phone up and order the bottle of 'embarrassing stuff' and drive in the side door so no-one can see you?  Typically it is spelt badly, must be Yank inspired.

As we neared town I cleaned my glasses for the third time.  Vision had been quite misty up till then.  It was as I cleaned I realised it was the sleep in my eye, not the film on the glass!  In the town stood a field, several trees, planted a few years ago, stood knee deep in long grass.  Behind them stood goalposts, just the one set, surrounded by a deep layer of brown mud.  No accompanying set of goals were to be seen.  This reminded me of the difference between the British Isles attitude to the beautiful game, and Johnny foreigners approach.  The proper approach is the one we took when young.  A couple of jumpers were deposited as goals, I would take my usual place as goalkeeper, and the rest would spend time crossing the ball in or playing a kind of defence v attack format with one goal only.  However in places like Spain and Italy, where the sun shine most of the year, young men get a ball, meet in a park and do not set up goals.  Instead they pass the ball, dribble, experiment on fancy ball control, and the like.  Technique is all, while getting on with the game was our idea!  The result is the better control of foreign players, and their goalies constant struggle while dealing with crosses.  The British drive is missing although in the south high temperatures mitigate against that.  The cold means we need to run about quick!  A simple thing those posts, but they speak loudly about our game.

I alighted the bus as we entered the centre, a mistake I was to discover later.  Heading straight for 'Waterson's'  I clutched tightly my Book Token given to me at Christmas by a sensible, intelligent young lady, and began to search for something worthwhile, educational, cheap, historical and to suit my exquisite taste, I failed!  They had a few good books right enough but none suited today.  The only decent bookshop in town and I could find nothing!  Shock!  However disappointed as I was I continued on to the Christian bookshop down the road and failed to find it.  It had turned into a shop full of junk furniture and was closed!  Two down, but   was I downhearted?  Yes!  I wandered through the centre, much more interesting than boring Chelmsford I must say.  Lots of interesting shops that appeal to women, and few closed or turned into charity shops, those were found in the lesser streets.  I wandered about this interesting town centre, still showing evidence of Roman organisation in these street patterns, disappointed by the charity shops books also, much better choice than here in this town but not what I wanted.  There used to be an 'Oxfam' bookshop in town, but that was no longer to be seen either.  The odd bits shop I dreamed off I then discovered had closed down!   I began to realise why the temptation to visit boring Chelmsford was so strong!  I was not meant to be here.  Off I trotted downhill to the secondhand bookshop.   I became somewhat worried when I espied an 'Under Offer' sign on the side of the building.  I then noted the 'Books at £1' sign and the closed door and shut gate! The place was closed!  It appeared to me that the M&S T-Shirts I was intending to buy might not be a good idea.  If I found the store I might close it down by attempting to shop!   However, in amongst a lot of poofy a variety of merchandise I found the boring T-shirts I required.  If these fit they might not shrink this time.

One place I did find was the Priory, a ruin  that stands in the middle of town, and was erected around 1100.  That's not eleven in the morning, I mean the year 1100.  An interesting ruin which I must read up on and I will mention this later as my dinner is burning as I write.  Nothing new there either. 

The journey home began badly.  The bus station was not there!  Someone had closed it down and moved it elsewhere.  I should not have got off where I did.  Eventually a nice man told me where to go, as opposed to less nice men who have told me where to go willingly in times past.  Once at the new station I boarded after a short wait, again accompanied by the socially unaware chink who chose to sit behind the adolescent brat in the front seat even though the bus was empty. Brats mother ignored his placing his feet on the window ledge, something my folks would have never allowed, and her desire to phone a friend and allow us all to enjoy her loud conversation gave cause for concern.  The concern being I had forgotten my chainsaw!  However I sat happily as the sun shone brightly in the window, indicating the soon return of Spring, hooray!  Being upstairs I noticed all those small items, names, carvings, (I canny mind the word) found between windows on Victorian homes, and there were many.  Some were painted, some not, many were intricate and while copied from a pattern book were worth a look.  So were the 80 or so Mercedes Benz parked awaiting customers during these austerity days.  However I suspect that austerity or not they will not be there long.  As the bus began the journey home I also noticed the Oxfam bookshop.  I had walked past the new, larger shop twice.     

I will have to visit boring Chelmsford now, bah!


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Unbelievable!

Unbelievable!  The sun shone hot all day, and the wind was merely a cooling aid for us all instead of the usual tempest.  How jolly it all was as I traipsed into the big city once again.  All around lassies were disrobing, sadly so were the men all to often.  Swifts soared through the skies, seagulls languidly floated around, cats sought cool shade and dogs looked distinctly ruffled.  The heat was such that I scurried back to the station rather than chase pictures, hold on, read that again?  "The heat was such.....,"  that is not something you will read here throughout the year.  This is the first real summer of the year and guess what?  I return home to find the Gas Bill awaits me.  What is more the price is increasing come September - just in time for winter!  "Grumble, crooks, robbery, nationalise, etc...."   


I should add that Edinburgh is still suffering rain, and will again tomorrow.  Under no circumstances have I passed that sky picture on to the family.  I sent a different one He He He!


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Danger Day

Maybe it's the ever present tiredness that never seems to leave me, maybe it's just being cack-handed, or there again it may just be my luck but today did not go well.  


It started late, I awoke at ten past five, closed my eyes as the 'shipping forecast' was read on the wireless and next thing I knew it was seven!  I stumbled into the kitchen fried tomatoes and the mushrooms that were growing on them and microwaved an omlette.  This took forever as I had forgotten to turn the cooker on.  Eventually my cold toast finished and crumbs filling every crack in this laptop, the phone rang.  For some strange reasom nine o'clock had arrived before I was ready and some spammer was already attempting to sell me something.  I ignored them and let the ansafone take care of it, no message was the reply.  I dialed 1471 to get their number and trace the call but they did not leave one, a spammer!  However I noticed some marks on the phone, the handset batteries were leaking like a tap!   Considerable time later the mess was cleaned up, on the phone, the desk,the laptop - me!  At least the desk is considerably cleaner, although things now fall through the hole.   


As I had to go into the walled city for no good reason I prepared carefully my duties so as to have as little time there as possible.  Naturally this was not to be.  Having managed to stay awake sufficiently to leave the train at my stop, rather than end in down by the coast where I would rather be, although being in Clacton on Sea would not be my first choice of coastal town to reside in (ankle chains and white stiletto's, and that's just the men!), I trooped off via the park and watched life slowly traipse by in the gloom.  At least the rain only threatened, then stopped and this summers gray cloud cheered us no end.  As I made for my destination a man walking the other way grumbled about the papers strewn all over and around a park bench, although I was not sure what I should do about it.  I noticed that he grumbled about those responsible but made no effort to collect the stuff and put it in the bin himself.  Hmmm.


Forced to huddle in a side room with a hundred other layabouts until the lovely Alison sorted things out I was then presented with a PC that suffered much!  The screen resolution was so small I could only see it by leaning right up against it, the window light reflected blocking what I could see, and it would not work!  My neighbour had his working, up to a point, but at least he could read his!  Once we managed to get started the printer would not print.  Both of us, and several others, sent much to the printer and nothing arrived.  The PC's were set to a differing machine.  Somewhere in that building hundreds of wasted sheets of paper are at this minute piling up on the floor.  What were we doing there?  Almost all of us claimed we do more at home.  All of us thought we were wasting time here, and that it cost this company cash it would be better advised spending on an upgrade of the computer system. However these 'Work' programmes are running into a problem. They make money when the 'client' gets a job he keeps for six months. There are three million unemployed and 400,000 vacancies. Most on this programme are the ones nobody wants. Like me some are unfit, some old, some unskilled and some ex-prisoners, not the first you would choose when employing someone from several hundred applications. The course is meant to help but there are just too few jobs, now this programme are getting worried. Conned by this government they are losing cash like water flooding folks houses and there is no improvement in sight. I wasted my time there, got out as quick as I could, and made it home without falling asleep onto the tracks.




I put the chips in the oven as I couldn't be fagged to do anything else and forgot the frying pan and oil therein was lying on the bottom of the oven. I type this with a thin haze all around, the windows open to clear the air, an unfortunate aroma clinging to everything, and suspect that as the night is young still more can go wrong.




I'm off to bed......




Oh good, the kids opposite have their music on, 'Rap' (with a capital 'C') or that dum dum dum stuff I wonder? That's the advantage the States has in such situations, guns! Bah!







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Big Town Again

'The Marquis' is a pub on the North Hill created out of a 16th century dwelling.  Timber framed, black and white frontage I didn't bother picturing as the sun hid at the time.  The doorway caught my attention, pub doorways do catch some of my readers attention I know, and this featured two faces, one carved into each wooden corner.  Whether for decoration or some other reason I fail to say because as usual I can find no info on this building online, just details of the pub itself.  However it appears they have preserved much similar woodwork inside.  I have to plead poverty of course and walk past in spite of searing hunger and exhaustion.

The plastic pipe is not 16th century.

This big beast is 'Jumbo!'  He once supplied the towns water but now is undergoing renovation as a home for some lucky (wealthy) person.  I cut off the bottom as it is hidden behind wooden fencing etc belonging to the developers.  The last time I looked every ledge all the way up was home to the pigeon, masses of them, and I suspect the first job will be to insert netting to prevent that if someone will actually live there.  The view from the top must be fantastic!  The town spread out beneath you, the river leading to the estuary in the distance, the roads running off in all directions and the rain clouds hiding all this from view!  The Romans were not keen on the weather either!

The Romans were keen on building however and also they became very keen on defence at this spot.  What is shown here are the remains of a Roman Gateway known today as the Balkerne Gate. Having invaded successfully in 43 AD the Romans settled down in their small city then known as Colonia Victricencis (City of Victory, but you knew that.)  This settlement was unfortified at the time, which was unfortunate as the Roman in charge upset a woman after her man, the local King, died.  He took all she had, raped her daughters and killed one or two.  As we all know that sort of thing means trouble.  Boudica decided to vent her wrath by burning  Colonia Victricencis to the ground, along with all therein. The only building to survive was the base of the basillica, this now forms the base of the 'castle.' Rome was not best pleased. After removing the Queen of the Iceni and her threat a wall was constructed around the town. She visited in 60/61 AD and the walls have been dated to around 65-80 AD. Lucky for us this almost complete gate survived by being hidden by overgrowth which preserved it in reasonable condition. Around a hundred years ago the structure was dug out and forms a real historical connection to the Roman era we have all read about. During Victorian times the then owner of the pub next door demolished half the wall to allow his guests to see the new railway. This brought him much in the way of custom then and abuse from history lovers today! It was then the pub became known as the 'Hole in the Wall.' The floor of the gateway has been somewhat modernised to cope with visitors and occasional repairs have taken place but most of the wall dates from the first century and reveals the Roman thoroughness when it came to defence. They did enjoy their engineering did the Romans.

Before the pub landlord intervened the gate was double in size and would possibly have been dedicated to the Emperor Claudius.  He had visited while claiming the victory of 43 AD and then received the surrender of the Britons there.  He then hopped of home before he caught cold.  He also named his son Britannicus, and hoped he would become heir, however the lad  was bumped him off later to prevent this.  That nice Tacitus tells us more about that intrigue.  This gate, the oldest and best preserved, faced west and lined up with Londinium, a place you may have heard off.  The opening on the left, a round room, possibly became the guard room but I wonder if anyone actually knows?  Do tell if you know.  The lads needed somewhere to hide when Joe Public was around didn't they?   I love the red bricks used by the Romans.  There are vast numbers on this wall, and indeed on many ancient buildings throughout areas they dominated.  These strong bricks have been reused in houses, walls and church buildings and stand out well.  The soldiers would have been the ones building the wall.  This kept them occupied in between bashing any who may have decided to rebel.  In 'Agricola,' Tacitus tells of his father in laws work in taming this island.  he is accurate in every detail I am sure.   

You wish a close up?  Sure!

A few modern bricks inserted to stop collapse in places but the nature of the structure clear from the top of the gate.  The road outside sinks away but this came from a more recent development, nevertheless the wall plus the previous ditch dug by the Britons left the defenders high above anyone who wished to attack.  The name Balkerne comes from 'baulk,' as in Roman times the gate was baulked up, closed up and sealed, other gates having come into preferred use it seems.  Road widening and later building or renovations have removed almost all traces of previous gates.  One or two remnants remain but nothing as good as this gate.  During excavations in the sixties when the road works were undertaken archaeologists discovered a great deal about the Roman occupation and later times.  They decided to make use of the gate and as the roadworks involved a bridge over the roadway many people pass through today.

More, much more, can be found at Camulos and that is worth a read to those who find such things fascinating.  I recommend this.

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