Morning Cycle for Fuit & Veg

Just after half six this morning I got on my clean, oiled, yet still rusty in many places bike, and forced my knees to whirl me around town.  As the blinding sun rose I snapped with my new camera, a present from above, this bird enjoying the rising warmth while trying to avoid the chill in the wind.  All around the birds were either finishing breakfast or like this one sitting in the sun awaiting a mate. Spring is in the air indeed!
The early morn is a lovely time to be up and about.  Traffic is slight, only those forced to work bleary eyed pass by, and occasional dog walkers, just as bleary, mutter 'Good morning' while following the English manner of pretending they did not see you until you speak.  The dogs are more open about their thoughts.  

   
'Ichabod' and I have been together now for almost 18 years.  One day I will ensure everything is in the right position and that the gears are at the right tension, until then we travel on happily, but very slowly! These days many have become infatuated with professional cycle racing and this area is flat enough for those who consider themselves manly enough to wear Lycra and tear along the roads for a hundred miles or so.  I worked with one or two who have done this around here, I am not one of them!  The term 'flat' maybe true in comparison to the Scottish highlands however I can assure you there are hills and long slopes which while a delight to go down are a pain to go up.  My attempts at the 'manly' approach failed long before 'Ichabod' arrived.  
Thinking on this in a couple of months the women's cycle race will pass by my door.  A letter recently fell through the door informing me of the road closures etc.  Such a shame the 'Tour de France' came close last year but never passed by my window.  At least the roads will get some treatment and we will all benefit from that.  Canny have a cycle race where potholes exist.

In an effort to stop these virii that keep giving me nasty symptoms I am endeavouring to eat more fruit and veg.  After getting off the bike I hobbled, slower than usual, round to Tesco and obtained some of the goodies from there and the rest from my usual fruit & veg man.  That done I have already stuffed a healthy breakfast down the throat and am convinced this will keep me on the run! An attempt must be made to eat more fruit and veg as it is better for us than the muck we normally have.  So much we eat contains things that do us no harm if eaten occasionally but build up and make us suffer.  No wonder kids go mad with things when they are pumped full of sugar and additives and things we do not get told about.  I am reminded of that biblical king who went mad and ate grass like a donkey for seven years. The reason was obvious, Daniel the prophet refused the rich foods given him and ate veg, he remained healthy, the king stuffed only with the richest food became toxic and the grass cured him, though slowly. I am told this has been recorded elsewhere among others also but have no links.  I am sufficiently donkey like in every way to wish to avoid being found in the park amongst the pigeons and crows early in the day eating grass.  The council would not like this.

Now I have the day before me and my knees are beginning to seize up, I'm back off to bed! 

Maudlin Monday

The young nurse (they are all young to me) at the surgery mentioned how lucky I was to be retired. "I'm busier than ever," said I, not letting on that I was lying.  I would be busier if I did all those jobs that need doing however!  So passing me fit and demanding I return in two weeks to prove I am still alive I made my way back to the laptop to continue rewriting the writing that I wrote before.  This indicated many mistakes so it was lucky I did this but not so lucky that any time I moved the format changed and required resetting.  Why must computers behave like women I ask you?  

Sitting here chewing my dried dates, figs and small red things I notice that the healthy 'Sweet Papaya Cubes' are 42% papaya and 58% sugar!  How healthy is that?  Natural sugar is one thing but I wonder... Still I suppose all this is doing me good, oranges, apples, lemons, fish, fish in tins, frozen fish, if I eat any more I will grow fins!  I did manage to pump up the tyres on the bike and soon I will be trundling along on it.  The poor thing has lain still so long it is filthy.  I should clean it first but canny be bothered!  It will work, I hope.

I have the eye of the tiger, the heart of a lion, and a lifetime ban from the zoo.

I ignored the media today for the most part.  Too much propaganda, too much for my brain especially as I had so much that I wasn't doing!  Some got done by the simple means of not trawling through the press to comment on English dickheads sayings.  I even cleaned the sink!  It is a white colour right enough! Tomorrow I will report to the museum, possibly take the laptop to finish what I am writing and spend the rest of the day putting David Cameron clones in their place.  

  

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Bank Holiday Monday Again

This is a scene in Edinburgh's Granton area a couple of weeks ago, it may still be there.  The UKIP poster, (United Kingdom Independence Party with the UK to leave the EU, and many consider them racist for not wanting high immigration) is found planted alongside an advert for tents claiming 'No Poles Required!'  There has in recent years been an influx of young folks from Poland into the UK leaving some to demand whether these posters placed side by side was a deliberate act on someones part.  I doubt it, but even so, it is quite funny.
There can be no doubt immigration is a big issue today.  However who knows what the actual numbers of immigrants actually happens to be?  Government figures cannot be trusted, even by governments, UKIP or any other lobby group certainly will not tell the truth, and the only fact is that the entire UK is overcrowded.  However, once Scotland becomes independent you will note only England, and Wales, become crowded, Scotland having masses of highlands bereft of life bar English incomers looking for a better world.  UKIP remains an England First Party, probably some members are racist, some certainly a bit loopy, however many similar remain within the Conservative Party but the papers do not mention that, certainly not during the lead up to an election.  
The European Election is with us in 20 or so days.  We ave the opportunity to send people into obscurity on vast wages, huge expenses, long hours of wasting everybody's time, and changing not one iota of life for you and me as far as I am aware up to this point.  The EU is such a farce. The accounts have never been signed off for 20 years, nobody knows where the money goes, few if any care or understand the financial side, yet nothing is done!  Talk is loud now, action unseen tomorrow.  Laws are passed, ignored by France, yet important here!  It is time for a rethink.  Let us work with Europe, but not in a Federal state.  Let us trade, help, aid, develop the poorer parts, but first let us remove the millions earning vast sums in Strasbourg, Brussels and wherever else they dwell.  I'm thinking of voting either 'Green' or 'UKIP,' as both would serve them right and keep them away from us!
   

Being a bank holiday, in which everyone bar supermarkets and greedy shops take the long weekend off, there was nothing happening today.  This made no difference whatsoever to this small town!  Actually it does, most shops shut, businesses closed and many took advantage of a reasonably warm day to clean the car, go visit in-laws, or even have a happy time.  I did nothing, so no change there.  The bright blue sky caused me to cycle up the old railway however, puffing up that slope far more than any F5 engine ever did I can tell you.

     Pah! You call that steam!

Clearly this is doing me good health wise, or so they say, but it did not feel this way at the time. There were few about, which always make it worth while.

The morning sun makes me want to take pictures but there was nothing but this aged gate, once entrance to a busy coal depot, the only interesting object on view.  I can tell it bores you, it did little for me.  However this depot must have been important in the coal fired days.  Every house required coal, all stations along the line had similar layouts busy with bags of coal being transferred to lorries and taken to almost every house in the area.  I say almost as with all the woods around in the past I suspect many chopped their own for the fire, saving money and keeping fit.  Today we just turn the switch and grumble at the power companies ripping us off. Where are all the old coalmen now?  Dead I suppose. Any living will be well into their eighties, probably older, but I suspect still fit! Jobs come and go with the change of lifestyle yet as far as I know few tears were shed for coalmen who lost out to the Clean Air Act.  Yet for well over a hundred years such men kept the nation warm, industry working and when stocks were low suffered the abuse for something they could do little about. Now they are forgotten.  So many old jobs once commonplace have gone in fifty years.  Factories, railway sidings, once the employer of thousands now turned into small shops, scout huts or out of town supermarkets.  How quickly we forget.    

Do you know muscles used rarely hurt when used?  As I write this rubbish my muscles are informing me of this very fact.  When I rise in the morrow I wonder if they will remind me then also.....?
  
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Get on Your Bike!

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Correspondence

This is the similar to the pile of letters, documents, bills and requests for money piling up on the desk, not counting those that have fallen down the back. Having spent another enjoyable day at the museum throwing stuff out, she was not very pleased I can tell you, and chatting to aged visitors I return to the long list of things that remain untouched even yet.  Naturally while watching Manchester United struggling in Greece they will be left untouched for a while yet.

Well watching Man U struggle was a waste of space.  Even Brighton were better last night.  The tackle by Carrick at the second goal was so poor my grannie could have done better, and she died in 1915! The media will restart the Moyes witchhunt again, drooling over their chance to knock someone down when he is already down.  This will all come good again in the end but the poor Manchester United fan will suffer for the next season or so.  Mins you most of them will be swapping their bus trips to Manchester for the bus to Chelsea if they win the league, won't they? Mind you the Greek side Olympiakos were no slouches, and they did their part well.  My grannie would have scored twice against them mind!

A quick look through the press show nothing has happened today.  Ther media have nothing to offer as normal except brief details of the 'Tour de France' which passes close by later this year.  I would venture a look if it was not for the millions of people blocking the road at the time, all roads being blocked also at the time.  Tsk!  I must look into this near the time.  
I wonder if Grannie ever rode a bike....?  
  
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Jack Frost Arrives

Late last night I spent some time attempting to identify a high pitched whistle. Being late, cold and dark I wondered what sort of bird would be hanging around at that late hour.  Imagine my surprise when I realised it was no bird, it was my wheezing chest!  Therefore this morning I restarted the failing exercise regime, the last one having failed after a few days you will recall.  So bright and early, well just after eight, I was found creaking my way up the old railway heading for Rayne Station.  It is several months since I got that distance, a whole two miles, and my knees let me know about it as we reached the top of the slope.  How those old engines steamed their way up here I do not know!  The sun shone brightly, the fields were white with the first real frost of winter and the scenery was wonderful!  Smiling dogs led their well wrapped owners a merry dance as they raced about their favourite haunts.  A jogger or two passed in ridiculously loud clothing seemingly under the impression this made them either faster or more 'with it.'  In both cases they are clearly mistaken.  

   

At the station the Rangers (not that kind) who run the line (now called the 'Flitch Way) have installed an old railway coach.  It appears the plan is to use it as a museum or an enlarged tearoom, thus enabling the station itself to be a better museum.  I hope whatever they decide works for them.  This is the first time since the late 70's that rails have been seen on this line.  Oh to see a proper train, one with steam at the front and compartment coaches once again! How romantic and atmospheric a steam train can be, something the more efficient diesel and electric machines cannot match.  These may well be better in every way but in spite of this they have less romance about them.

This coach never saw a steam engine pulling it that is for sure, and it is far from the aged wooden coaches used until 1952, the date the last passenger train ran on this line.  The charabancs that abounded after the Great War, plus the vast number of ex-army lorries that came available at the time led to a drop in numbers both of people and goods.  It was only the presence of the huge sugar beet factory half way along that kept the line working and even they turned to lorries by the 70's.  Soon after it had all gone.  Our station survives and many commute to the pleasure dome that is London for a means of earning their high wages.  Most of which goes on the fares to get them to work.  I came home that way one night and feel sure the crowded train would do my head in if I used it five nights a week. One derailment, accident, jammed door, body on line and the hour and five minute journey could take a week!  Interestingly the Transport Minister is based in Chelmsford, just down the road.  He was caught out using his chauffeured car to drive him to work rather than the train.  So for a short while he was made to rise in time for the 6:00 and he was not pleased! He may well be back in the car but he has announced he will not stand at the next election, retiring to a directorship or two I suspect, probably concerning railways!    

Naturally I decided to get up on the platform, in spite of my weakened hulk having strained its way up here, and so I placed my toe in that little step used by railway men to onto the platform.  I did this, got almost up, my knees gave way and I went splat on my face.  No-one amongst the handful in the vicinity around appeared either to notice or be surprised.  The coach had been used as a money making idea Santa Claus den just before Christmas and the windows were decorated appropriately, well according to them anyway.  Nothing exciting was seen bar this angel, possibly this is the one that enabled me to get down without falling flat on my face twice!  You may well be bored of this coach by Summertime. 

Home Jeeves, down that slope, and don't spare the horses dogs.  The sun shining through the trees as I cantered homewards could well have done me damage if I were epileptic.  Bright sun then dark shadow, it was like a thousand flashbulbs one after another.  Flashbulbs?  We are not old enough to remember flashbulbs are we?  Home at a degree of speed not imagined earlier, shaking of the attentions of the dogs I rejoiced in the bright morning, always the best part of the day, and breathed fresh cold air to remove the whistling noise.  Home in my mind meant hot bath, a continuation of the sleep I disturbed when this daft idea entered my head, breakfast and a hot massage.  I still await the hot massage!  I will ache all day tomorrow, to be honest I ache now! Bah!

Sounds and Smells

In her comment yesterday Jenny mentioned the sound of her door closing being the same sound the original owners would recognise from over a hundred and something years ago.  This got my little mind considering the sounds and indeed smells that greeted peoples in differing ages.  Jenny lives in the centre of the big city, very different from my surroundings but many similarities would be seen.  The noise of doors is just one, doors being better made then!

The pub pictured above for instance, this has been a hostelry for some time, the first publican I found was noted in 1793 and the building dates from that century.  Outside you note the road sign offering directions, a car is parked, usually several are found here, and the road itself suffers constant traffic, sometimes quite heavy.  The air can fill with fumes, children pass in droves from the nearby school, shoppers swarm daily.  The ambulance station further up offers blue flashing lights and sirens, as do the occasional police vehicles.  Little aroma is offered, unless you stand close to the chip shop or Chinese take away. Nothing is noted of any vegetation, only the farmers compost from distant fields once or twice a year fill the air. This then is the normal traffic of a small but busy market town.
Compare the picture below, dated to the early years of the 20th century. 
In the far left just behind the pram stands the Inn.  No traffic passes, not even a horse!  Carriers left daily from here for local villages or London, each day a different direction.  This was the only means of trading goods until the railways arrived.  Coaches taking passengers at six miles an hour shook them up all the way to distant places, also leaving from the various Inns around the town. The noise was less, the smell of horse and carriage would be notable, as indeed would the carrier himself be!  Gardens close by would offer fragrance from flowers, next door the bicycle makers would give the sound of metalwork and accompanying smells.  Men with shirt sleeves rolled up would finger the watchchains on their waistcoats waiting for their lunch break in the pub. Somewhere dogs would bark and a gardener would ensure the horses leavings would aid their crops in the back garden, in spite of that aroma.  Smoke from chimneys may well rise lazily into the air, the distinct smell not being noticed by nostrils taking it for granted, they would notice it when rain brought it down upon them, leaving soot on the buildings and her washing on the line.  No radios blare, no car horns or engine noise, no army helicopter noisily heading for Colchester, no adolescent deafening himself with lousy music at a hundred decibels, no woman pushing a pram while checking her mobile, though she may well be talking loudly into it!  
The sound of silence at night would be manifest to the modern ear.  Animals in the distance would be heard, the factories working nights would make noise in the distance, a train puffing along would be a sound remaining in the mind for ever to those who heard it.  The depth of the darkness around would shock while it would enable a clear view of the stars above, unless it rained!  Streets lights, gas lit later in the 19th century, would only exist in town and the surroundings would be very black. The main form of transport would be coach, or bike, however by the early 1900's a car may be occasionally seen ruining the atmosphere.  Most would still walk everywhere while trains would be used for longer distance.     

Sometimes looking back the world appears easier back then.  We ignore the rickets, five and a half day working, at least, ten or twelve hour days, washing by hand for a large family, what several children could do to a mother, if she lived that is, poor pay and real class distinction.  We really are better off today, so why are so many having to use 'food banks?'  It would be glib to say we have a Conservative government but that clearly plays a part.  The outfall from the 2008 collapse affects us still and many suffer.  Some of the diseases that endangered the children in the postcard view may well be a danger today!  That aside life is better for the majority now than it was then.  The vast majority are in danger of being fat and all the attendant problems this brings than they are in danger of hunger.  The minority require food banks but I can tell you how close that is to us all.  A disease, redundancy, and a badly managed recession can put anyone in that danger.  For most of us however we will look back on the past and say "It was better back then!"          

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Listening to the Wireless

I have spent some time today listening to Radio 4 Extra Factual.  One of the programmes that has held some attention was Tony Hawks and his tale of travelling around Ireland with a fridge. Naturally this particular adventure is not one I, or indeed any sensible person would normally wish to undertake, but for a drunken bet and the possibility of winning £100 Mr Hawks set off! Clearly he had fun and the Irish took him, as they would any other such eejit, to their hearts. Sad to say no trip I have ever taken has been so beneficial. The trip in itself is not one I identify with but the idea of hitchhiking, or some similar adventure is one we all have indulged in or wished we had attempted, when young. 

Around the time I started secondary school I took to jumping on the green SMT buses, the ones that went out of town to far distant lands, and had a day trip to exotic places like North Berwick or Burntisland, even reaching Leven on one occasion.  My folks did not object, although I never told them about the problems or acts of stupidity in which I indulged when out.  This reasonable activity stopped when I took to following the Heart of Midlothian around Scotland.  The hour and a half on the bus journeying in the days before motorways enabled me to see something of the country as we headed to a rain soaked defeat in Dundee, Motherwell or Paisley.  Being out of town was sometimes, well often at that time, more enjoyable than sitting with the sleet in the face singing 'We shall overcome,' which we did, thirty years later.  

On a few occasions I hitchhiked up the A1 in an attempt to reach Edinburgh on the cheap.  So the story told by Mr Hawks of standing in the rain as cars race past, and I without a fridge remember, rang a bell.  The drizzle on the face, the strange whining sound of the tyres, the silence between the bursts of traffic all added to the atmosphere, an atmosphere that got a bit wearing after a while.  If only I copied the chap at the beginning of the M1 near London's 'Staples Corner.'  he stood there with a large notice reading, 'Glasgow - or Else!'  When I think about it the strange attire of the times, floppy hippy hat, long greasy hair, unwashed bar the rain, ill fitting trendy charity shop overcoat, it was little surprise no decent sort wished to stop.  There were however those who did.  One man, well travelled in this world, took me all the way near Baldock, wherever that is, and from there I made my way back towards the north.  As rain descended a traveller on his way to line his pockets selling things nobody really needs gave a lift to myself and one other.  We travelled up the A1(M) at an enormous speed in heavy driving rain until a gentleman from the law held us up and demanded to know why he had picked us up on a 'Throughway.'  Satisfied, the custodian allowed Shumacher to continue his attempt to kill us all.  My companion and I proffered our thanks, took a note of his number (blue Vauxhall Viva EFD 456) and celebrated living.  

Dressing in such a mess manner as 20 years are want to do did not always provide the best of taxi provision.  Apart from the non stopping decent sorts, the lorries with uncaring drivers who only stopped for pretty girls and the rain which appeared only to fall on the spots I chose to frequent, weirdo's were an occupational hazard.  The young man, a trendy who refused to fit into this world's ways, and now probably has become a millionaire by ripping off his workers after realising the middle class hippy dream did not pay, did at least take me almost all the way into Edinburgh, via the old Roman road over the Cheviots.  Not a road I recommend in a Mini Minor.  Dreamer he may have been, a dreamer who allowed me to pay for his breakfast, but he was not the worst.  While I stood at the side of the road, brushing the water from my glasses, my head was filled with daydreams of buxom young women desperate for a prat healthy, almost, young man in the manner off those grubby films shown at the cheap cinemas.  The nearest I got was a builder, a self made man, with a Geordie accent, south of Newcastle late at night. His gleaming new Rover, a good car at that time, reflected his success in life.  His suggestion, worth £5, indicated all was not as it seemed!  He kept his fiver and I made my excuses and left, not easy at 50 miles an hour I can tell you.  

Years later, cycling from Edinburgh to London on the bike worth £18 I again hoped for high adventure and found lots of rain and wind against me and fifty miles of slog a day.  Stopping unhappily in YMCA buildings until I changed to happier pubs or B&B's did not bring much excitement but did allow me to see life in odd places.  The face presented by any town does not reflect what goes on round the back.  Not only do most High Streets look the same, all the plastic shopsfronts deflect from the old buildings in which they are housed, but I suspect today the places I passed through have more charity shops among our wealth and large out of town shopping centres also.  No ageing gayboys, weirdos or well travelled folks on that trip, just sensible people who thought I was weird for cycling all that way but remained friendly just the same.  Mild beer became popular with me then also.  I even had one of my panniers returned by the constabulary after it fell off unnoticed, and a small bottle of the 'water of life,' winged its way in return.  

What an adventure for him, finding my dirty laundry! 

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Ichabod and I

Ichabod, the bike that is, and I struggled up the old railway early this morning before my mind was wide enough awake to realise what I was doing.  My knees are now well able to explain the short trip, and loudly at that!  A chap I know belongs to one of those cycling groups, you know the type, helmets, shorts, bright tight jerseys and riding bikes costing several hundred pounds, well he was commenting on their 'run' of just over a hundred miles.  They had done a bit more the day before!  These imitation Tour de France types sometimes come past here, and if on telly I will watch it myself.  Men like the idea of being tough or strong enough to ride up hills and speed along straight rods, always comparing the time between your past time and some other superstars.  Incidentally I watched a programme featuring Clare Balding, a lass referred to by one man as 'Dyke on a Bike,' cycling around the hill of Devon in one of those excellent short travel programmes.  Indeed I like this type of thing and Balding does present herself well here.  However she mentions the small point that she was on a 'short run,' of just 30 miles!  I considered this during my ride up the slope and calculated that by turning back I would get home after completing 3 miles.  My knees agreed that was far enough today!

Farmer Jones will be happy that in spite of the rain his crop is succeeding this year.  I am claiming this is wheat but I expect you experts will tell me it is something completely different, like mango or the like.  His wide field looks in quite good nick in spite of the refusal of the council to allow him to sell some fields to a builder who wants to create 500 homes there.  Luckily even our Councillors are too busy planting said 500 houses on a different farm to care for him.  I am glad as this would spoil the old railway for many of us.

It seems like years since I have been up here and the rain has developed the vegetation somewhat!   This stuff lined the path all the way up, in spite of being curtailed by the Rangers who have stopped it encroaching the entire path.  There is something refreshing about breathing in such an atmosphere (unless you have Hay Fever or Asthma I suppose), listening to the birds singing, beasties rummaging through the undergrowth and cheerily allowing occasional cyclists to rush past as they must get to work before eight.  How I love not having to do that these days.  I miss the good bits, the people, the routine but not the hassle, office politics, grumpy folks, and of course the public!  

  
How much better this looks when greenery is everywhere, also when the way home is downhill!

Occasional remnants of the old railway.  A sign to indicate the rise and fall of the track ahead.  Just ride a bike pal and you soon find how far the track rises and falls!  

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Early Morn

I shocked myself this morning by rising not long after five and being on the bike by quarter to six.  The shock being that I have not been on the bike for weeks and the sun shining compelled me to get out there before the postmen get up.  Naturally by the time I had propelled myself fifty yards the gray clouds began to gather.  However the foliage along the old railway was abundant this morning.  The picture does not give a decent shot of the colours to be found in these wild plants that lined the pathway.  The warmer weather does make life so much better!   However once I had spent half an hour on the bike, wandered around town to stop my knees stiffening I then had the joy of going back to bed!  

Nothing much else happened.

How I endure such an active life I know not.  

I did once again attempt to finish my speil on the local regiment during the Great War, once more I found myself rewriting it from the beginning.  Scrawling things on here is one thing, writing something for folks to read is hard, especially when facts honestly given turn out to be wrong!  Bah!  It's hard being illiterate, whatever that means.

From here I can glimpse the red sky in the distance, too difficult to photograph from here, and find this sky curiously satisfying.  What is it that makes the world around us so attractive and refreshing for the mind?  The greens of the vegetation, the colours of the sky, the fragrance of flowers all make the day worth having, no mater what else is occurring.  Lovely, whatever it is.

Hmmm, I seem to be in a good mood, I must read the 'Daily Mail' that will soon fix that!

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Early Morn Bike

You will of course be delighted to hear that just after seven this morning I jumped - carefully - onto the bike and whizzed slowly around the streets.  The weather was quite gentle for a change, the sun almost shone and as I honed my bulk I found myself enjoying the strange experience of physical effort once again.  The weather, feeling poorly, and laziness being too busy has meant I have hardly been near the bike all year.  Once the cycling stops it is not easy to get back into it especially when the weather is lousy as it has been all year.  Leaving the bike I limped around the town watching the smiling people head for their workplaces.  How I envied them, but then I was just glad to get home and call the Thai Takeaway Curry House & massage people round to massage my knees for me.  Tonight I ache all over!  I suppose this means I am not fit and healthy?

Did you realise that there are more plastic surgeons keeping people beautiful in Brazil than anywhere else?  I would have thought the US would have more but Brazilians are the ones desperate to remain young all their lives, at least those who are rich at any rate.  The poor, and there are many in Brazil, have to exercise, preferably on the beach where the beautiful people show themselves to the world.  Something about all this does not attract me.  The desperate having their face lifted often look worse afterwards, regular ageing and making the best of themselves makes people look better than any surgeon can manage.   Of course some have real reason to go under the knife but the faces filling the media are always broken people looking to be loved or just for attention.  Me myself have retained my handsome feature through living a good life and being naturally Adonis like.  What? ........Oh!

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Another Day Out

The crops are beginning to show through now, as this pic taken from the speeding train shows.  The sweep of the fields always catch my eye, although it does not make for the greatest picture, especially when the sky is gray.  I listened to the messages Richard Branson and his MI6 friends give us secretly as we sped along, but mostly my attention was taken by the smartly dressed young lass who journeyed one stop only and the smell of disinfectant that came from an Asian man suffering a cold.  With my luck I suspect I will be a Man Flu disaster area soon.  Why do such people leave the house I ask?

The weeping willows appear to be bright intelligent trees.  If you must weep, weep into a river I say.  I did wonder about the drought at this point.  Farmers want water and here we have a full river, why not put it to use?  Rather than let it flow into the estuary use the water on the fields.  there must be a legal way of doing this?  No point in farmers, and ourselves, losing crops I say.

  

I am not keen on 'candid shots' of people, I see them as an intrusion, however I did wish a shot of this man's bike.  I would say it was somewhat overloaded myself, and the bag on the ground he had on his back!  Was he off camping?  is he one of the homeless?  Is this how he makes his living perhaps, a travel writer with an angle?  When I made my mammoth ride I had two saddlebags and as little as possible in them.  How much does he carry?  Is he a member of 3 para, stationed here, on his way home for Easter?  I found myself a little intrigued, but just looking at him and imagining the struggle up hill made me tired.  I climbed aboard the train and went home to bed.

The gratuitous train picture!  You all want to see one, admit it!  

  

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Cycling Early in Morning

Having managed to cycle up the old railway this morning, and already losing the aches, I intend to follow the line a bit further tomorrow on the basis that if I am out of this place I will not be endangering the laptop!  It's fascinating in a way that at one time, like 1914, thousands of miles of such lines covered the nation.  Small towns and out of the way places were connected by railways, as long as there were some bigger towns along the way to make it pay of course.  Engines such as the one shown would chug along at speeds between 20 to 50 miles an hour, stopping at well made stations and small halts comprising no more than a twenty foot platform, an oil lamp and an entrance way.  Some became very successful and carried thousands of passengers, many struggled from the off, built by enterprising local men with grand but sadly mistaken ideas.  By 1950 most were overtaken by the more convenient bus and the beginnings of the car worship that was complete by the 60's.  A shame in many ways, as railways are more romantic than cars, but the cost, especially of steam, was prohibitive.  Famously Dr Beeching, under instructions from transport Minister Marples, who had made his money in road building, killed of the majority of the local lines.  
Tomorrow I intend to get as far as what remains of the station, although not this one, it's 15 miles away!  I must get some fitness as Spring is Spinging and punctures permitting I will be away.  I wonder what the ambulance service is like....?



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The Bike

The sun was shining, the sky was blue, so this afternoon, once I had worked up the courage, I got out onto the bike for the first time in two months.  I had decided yesterday that another exercise period was required, so this morning I attempted just that and in the afternoon I jumped on the rusting old bike and pedaled around for twenty minutes. The sun may have been shining but the wind was coming from the east, via Siberia, so while my genteel hands were warm and cosy in the gloves my face took an instant dislike to being frozen.  Once home I walked around the town continuing to being frozen but the only way to avoid the knees freezing up also!


This little trip made me wonder how, in 1974, I had managed to cycle from Edinburgh to London!  I had the idea that this would be a cheap holiday so I decided to by a bike!  Now remember that I had not ridden a bike for about ten years yet I searched the papers and found one on sale for £18!  I made my way to the south east of the city and bought a bike from a man who told me that the owner had, "Gone to Australia."  I found myself wondering in he knew he had emigrated.  However I got on the bike, somewhat shakily, and suddenly remembered I had miles to go through Edinburgh streets.  I cannot recall the journey but I suspect it was not straight forward.  A few weeks later I set off on my journey.  Today, having developed the brain a bit better, I would spend six months training for this venture, checking the food I ate, stocking up on carbohydrates and the like.  Then I just jumped on the bike, a packet of sandwiches and a few bags of raisins and nuts or some such, and discovered this was not going to be as easy as I thought.  Cycling to work was one thing, cycling with packs on the bike another, and it rained!


It tool me two hours to be clear of Edinburgh as I wandered through Leith and Musselburgh heading for the A1 and the road south.  It did not take the rest of the week to make me realise I was a clown!  Cycling the back roads of the A1 was pleasant to look at, but the up and down nature of the roads got very wearing, especially as old men on ancient bikes swept past me contemptuously.  Averaging fifty miles a day (today about three!) I made it in a week.  I stopped at a couple of Youth Hostels for the first two nights and was not impressed, so stayed in a couple of pubs and a couple of boarding houses after this.  The locals were friendly and while they considered me an idiot they managed not to do this to my face.  I don't know why, I agreed with them!  Had I been making a telly programme about this I would find adventures, women, excitement, women, crimes, women, rich rewards, women, interesting places full of the rich with women, but as it was just me I merely took a fifty mile shortcut that took me a mere ten miles further on one day, and no women!  The wind, naturally, was constantly against me, the rain knew where I was, I discovered that 'Mild' was acceptable beer, that 15th century pubs bedrooms floors sank in the middle, and that when you pass the Hartlepool United Football Club doorway you are miles of course. I intended to ride through York but took the wrong road and went around it and couldn't be bothered to go back, I stopped to take a picture of the lovely pink sunset over the 'Selby Oil & Cake Works,' forgetting the 'Instamatic' had a Black & White film inside,  and that road signs saying 'Village 1 mile,' are followed at 30 yards by another claiming 'Village 1/2 mile.'  


I suppose it was worth it but how I did it I do not know.  The bike was sent back via a carrier, and took 8 days to arrive, and I returned by train!  No fool me.  Had I the energy would I do this again? Yes, but with a bit more planning this time, and a car as back up!  I used the bike a lot in those days, for work and pleasure.  I cycled over the Forth Bridge and back via Kincardine, up into the lower Pentlands, struggling up the slope, and racing back as Edinburgh slopes down to the Forth so I got home a lot quicker than I went out! The only problem with the bike was that twice the tyre exploded in the middle of the night while at home!  We never worked that one out.  The 'Sun' racer was a good bike for me, but I prefer my present ageing one I must admit.  Maybe I had better try another trip tomorrow as they claim snow is on the way.  Hopefully it will remain in Scotland, where it belongs!

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Country Air

For the first time in a while I cycled, slowly, up the old railway line. I went around eleven as it is quiet then and stupid me forgot the kids are on holiday. Therefore as the sun was shining the families ponderously made their way up the line.  The kids chatting to all the dogs that passed by, when that is they were not wandering through the bushes, the women gossiping about nothing and blocking the way for normal human beings going about their lawful business. The dads being dads, carrying the bags on their backs, sometimes alone with one child, as indeed were a granddad or two, and making me miss the not so young kids way up north.  In one way this was nice to see, in another they just got in the way! A good day out and of course I ache all over now. I must get out more, as people often tell me.


I was attempting to add the 'Beach Boys' song 'Country Air,' because this came to mind when sitting enjoying the sun, greenery and fresh air.  EMI do not allow this (are they not the folks who turned 'The Beatles' down?) so find it on 'YouTube' and hum along as you read.  I was indeed 'humming' when I got home.  

A good day also in that I had a £5 off voucher for the new 'Morrisons' supermarket. The staff, for the most part, are very friendly, you can tell they are new to this game, and I will certainly return next Friday - I have another voucher!  This means that this small town has three large supermarkets represented.  Tesco have three stores, one which has just been redeveloped. Sainsburys have one which is about to be redeveloped and they plan another so big it will replace a small industrial estate! There is already a 'Lidl's' and now the Co-op has closed 'Morrisons' have moved in.  Just how much do the thirty five to forty thousand folks here eat I wonder?  I spent £16:98, and that was after taking advantage of the voucher to stock up, consider how much others must be spending on things they can afford but do not actually need?  Being poor makes me careful with money and I tend to notice prices more.  I also notice how folks buy things with little thought and choosing the label not the product!  An expensive item will be brought rather than try the store version, even though they are just as good nowadays.  Something is bought because it has always been chosen rather than because of any worth it may have.  The tricks of the store also make us all spend on things we don't want and they laugh all the way to the Swiss Bank where the directors store their ill gotten gains. I prefer 'Tesco,' but I will suffer 'Morrisons' for one more week as I use up the last voucher.

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Sunday Mist Rising

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There are three main benefits from rising early on a Sunday morning.  One is the sight of the rising sun clearing away the mist that lies in the valley.  This allows some lovely pictures, if you have a longer lens than my little camera possesses.  The second benefit is the healthy body that is obtained by riding the bike up slopes you did not realise were around that bend you had never ventured along before.  This is enhanced when you get to the end and discover this is a dead end and the road sign has been removed by person or persons unknown when leaving the 'Six Bells' late one night.  A certain desire to knock 'Six Bells' out of them crosses the cyclists mind at this point. The third benefit arrives after lunch when watching the poor picture of the Heart of Midlothian being roundly stuffed by St Johnstone you find the drowsiness overtaking you so that you manage to miss much of the slaughter!  I suppose there is a fourth benefit not connected to the early morning, the mental exercise caused by asking who the Heart of Midlothian's next manager might be, Derek McInnes anyone...?


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Knackered

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I have done little cycling for a while and went hurtling up the old railway early this morning.  That was fine, although the bridge crossing the dual carriageway has grown considerably since the other week! Foolishly I decided to go looking for interesting pictures. This however meant heading up a new road for me, and UP is the operative word. This is supposed to be a flat county so how come everytime I find a new road it goes upwards? Not just upwards but upwards right to the top!  It was better coming down I must say.  How do the boys in the 'Tour de France' go up hills at thirty miles an hour? Who said "Drugs?"  Paracetamol doesn't help I can tell you! And the only thing worth photographing was this rickety old house. I say rickety but it probably costs around £700,000!  

 

This keffuffle deepens. Nick Clegg (He is actually the 'Deputy Prime Minister!) has said Murdoch should think again about buying into BSKYB.  This is like asking a drunk not to drink!  Murdoch must by this company as the paper media is losing cash hand over fist.  TV advertising is the way ahead and everyone knows it.  The fact that his people have been buying Gordon Brown's children's health information, buying info from the Queens protection officers, indeed buying the top men at the Metropolitan Police, and thousands of as yet undiscovered dirty deeds will not stop Dave Cameron giving in to Murdoch. It may be delayed, it may go undercover, but folk like Rupert tend to get what they want, and I wonder if 'Dave' is big enough to stop him?

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Excercise and Cycling Early in the Morning.

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Start the day the proper way I say. Stretch both arms high. Ooooooh, not that far.
Stretch again, left arm,
right arm,
left arm,
right arm, ooo let's stop that there.
Touch toes, oooh slowly.  And again, and again, and again.
Grab ankle and pull left leg up behind and streeeeeetcch. 
Now the right one, streeeeetttccchhh.
No more off that!
Swivel head to the left,
the right,
the left,
the right,
the lef...no hold that, I'm getting dizzy now.
Chest expanders now.
Puuuuuullllll oooooh, tsk. I think that can wait.
Stretch arms again,
and again,
and again,
Deep breaths,
In. Out.
In. Out.
In. Out.
In. Out.Right, time to get out of bed.

What a morning! Bright sunshine, clear blue sky, slight breeze. I must get on the bike!
Twenty to six and I am off up the road.
Should I go to the left and up the old railway, or carry on and go down the cutting to the...oh never mind I am not awake and have gone straight on anyway. Early it may be but white van man is about. I know this as he has just attempted to reveal how many coats of paint covers his van. I wish he had found some way other than using my handlebars to do this!  Builders pass by in painted vans, rushing to overcharge their customers and find excuses not to complete the work while the sun shines. Folk head for work, probably these are the ones with keys to open up for the rest, and factory or shop will soon ring to the happy sound of human voices wishing it was time to go home. A cleaner or two passes eager (?) to dust, polish and hoover for £5.96 an hour. I note them all as they head for their destination, although I would have been better noting the traffic lights there as that would have saved that man in the Skoda using language that does not suit this time of day.

I aim to turn off for the railway but fail to negotiate the bend (maybe this is too early?) and am heading down the steep hill at breakneck speed holding the handlebars with two hands and my cap with another. I can foresee trouble ahead!  At the bottom of the hill I pass an adolescent lassie delivering the morning papers, or at least judging by the speed she is progressing possibly it is the weekly free paper she began delivering yesterday?

I grunt and puff as I struggle up the other side of the hill and looking to my right, and avoiding 'P. Grant. Builder and Handyman,' as he zooms along, and watch the sun rising over the fields. Visibility is at least ten miles although the dew is causing a very light haze that makes me eager to stop and take pictures. Summer mornings have a joy all of their own! However if I stop on this slope I may not start again so I continue. I pass through the village full of aged buildings which are very much at variance with the nature of the road that lies in front of them, and turn off into the station (2 miles and 17 chains distance from home) and begin the run home down the slope. Today I am so glad of this slope! Five miles seems like fifty these days, why do teens have all the energy?

Home before six thirty in the morning. Breakfast, read the papers, blogs, e-mails, and it is almost time to do those things that have waited since yesterday.

I er, maybe I will do them later...... 


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May 8th 1945

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May the eighth is the day to commemorate Victory in Europe Day. Britain with its obsession with the war ought to be marking this day is some manner, but it appears to be ignored by all bar 'Google!' Even the war obsessed 'Daily Mail is ignoring this and concentrating on 'Kate's family,' and 'Muslims targeting Prince Harry.' The dead of the war forgotten for more relevant stories. The celebrations in the streets of the UK on that day in 1945 brought the end of six long years of war. Britain had stood alone, lost about 400,000 dead, suffered damage in most major and many minor places, and now the nation had to pick up the pieces and return to normal. The conflict with Japan may rage on for a few months but most were just glad this 'lot' had come to an end.  What did Britain gain from the war?  Standing alone while the rest of the world looked on gave a moral superiority but little else. The social change hoped for after the Great War that never arrived was demanded this time and Britain had the largest civic change in its history in the following years. However the nation was bankrupt, rationing continued for ten years, the winter was awful, and it appears to many that Germany gained more than Britain did!This causes some to question whether the war was worth it? It was, it had to be fought, and we do those involved an injustice by not at least mentioning them at least in passing.

The Spring light makes me wake at around half five these days, but with a little effort I can doze till nearer half six! Then I jump on the bike, yell loudly, get off and get dressed, and then jump back on the bike, a little more comfortably, and cycle for half an hour. Being Sunday the streets were very quiet and I toddled around in that vain attempt to encourage fitness. On the last lap up the slope in the park the back wheel began to cause problems. A puncture, probably caused by the remnants of the kiddies beer bottles left crashed around the pathways, and joy of joys as always it is the back wheel that has got it. No comments on my weight making that more likely please! My technical abilities will rise to the fore tomorrow. I suspect it will be Thursday at least before I get this fixed properly!  Bah!  Note how clean the bike looks in that photo? Around 14 years alter it looks a bit worn, and now I could not reach the spot in the old railway where I pictured the thing. Oh the aches, oh the muscular pains, oh me.....




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Bike

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Foolishly I was enticed by the yellow sunshine brightening the green of the grass outside my window, the clear blue sky high above and climbed onto the trusty old bike this morning. Hastening out along the short pavement I turned into the side road and rode at speed straight into a police car leaving the station to begin the mid morning patrol! Well I avoided him of course but he seemed peeved for some reason leaving me similarly peeved that  he glared at me in that special manner a policeman always seem able to sum up. Therefore I hastened on my way before he could consider opening his mouth!
'Hastened' is the word! The bike and my knees worked well today. For some reason all was going well as I headed up the slopes of the old railway at high speed, except when avoiding dog walkers obviously! These had also been drawn out by the sun and there is nothing more delightful to a dog than the many varieties of experience available along this walk. Unfit and unspeakable as I am I had intended to struggle up to the village and make my weary way home. Surprisingly I kept going and cycled round the country lanes to the bigger village further on. Even more surprising was the lack of 'white van man' speeding along this route today. The sight of early crops coming through, crows sauntering about the fields confident in their strength, robins singing brightly for a mate, anybody's mate, in the branches, and the sun filled sky kept me going. The change of scenery, the bright sun and the assortments of colours as Spring begins to spring lightened the heart and made passers-by offer cheery 'hello's' to all who pass. Brightly painted ageing houses, some which have stood their ground for several hundred years, made for interesting viewing. The farms I passed can be found on old maps still with their present name. I wonder how long some of these farms have existed? Since the forests that one covered this area  were cleared this land has been farmland. People have come and gone, fortunes have ebbed and flowed, centuries have passed and the general nature has remained the same. Plague and witch hunts, civil war and changeable governments have risen and fallen and these trees, bushes and the wildlife have continued on their own way following the seasons. 
Since the middle of the 19th century we have mostly been town dwellers in the west. Contact with the land has been lost, unless we are granted a bit of garden to grow our own veg. Allotments, that British area of garden leased from the council, have become more and more desired as time passes. People wish them partly to enable a ready supply of vegetables but also to get in touch with the land, something supermarkets cannot give, and indeed who's prices are an encouragement to such 'self help.      
I suppose it's getting on for five miles or so outwards and when my knees realised how far they had gone they began to rebel! In their opinion my arms were not pulling enough and my arms were more than willing to contest this thought. Hurtling through Bannister Green at six miles an hour, good job that slope was there, I decided it was time to return home by the railway bed. Here I found that not only the chilled wind was against me but at this point the the line began to rise slightly. Typical! This slope was not noticed by those blackened steam engines pulling the local service slowly along but it was clear enough to both my arms and my knees. They commented on this in a manner a bit too full and frank for my liking to be honest.  
I do not worry about aching limbs in the morning however, these have arrived already! I sit aching and totally knackered, merely happy the heart attack did not arrive while on the road home! Too think that once I rode, over several days, from Edinburgh to London and now I struggle after a few miles! There is no doubt that I am unfit but if the weather keeps up I will be out a few more times in days to come. Now where is that ambulance.......

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