Friday: Bank Holiday

Being a bank holiday the population has rushed to get away from it all and found it all at the railway and bus stations, on the motorways and in all the holiday 'get away from it all' hotspots.  Naturally road and rail works begin at this time as once the rush is over less people travel.  Quite why more people do not leave on Thursday and return Tuesday I know not as most can make such arrangements.  
Once I entered Kings Cross station for the eight O' clock train for Waverley and found myself amongst half the population. This was in the eighties and before the Conservatives had managed to mess up the railways and increase prices while giving profits to their friends in foreign countries and the crowd enabled the railways to put on another service.  A porter announced the 'other train' on a far platform and a mad rush ensued.  I remained where I was (near the front) and obtained a seat on my train.  However I was soon crushed in alongside others with people standing all the way to Edinburgh!  I was unable to get out until we reached the destination and while standing in Newcastle the 'other train' arrived alongside.  It was clear there also the crowds were standing all the way along!  Even losing folks at Newcastle did not make much difference that day.  I ensured I never went anywhere on a bank holiday again.
Of course I cannot go anywhere this Monday Holiday as there will be no transport.  Buses are hard enough to find and the Tories have cut another one this week, Sunday Service on the buses means no service here.

The talk re books has forced me to send off for two second hand ones via Amazon.  Not that I need them, I just need to buy them!!!!  I also feel I must wander around the charity shops, on a Saturday, to check the books.  On top of this I found myself searching my books for one to browse and here it is beside me.  This is a good example of why never to dump books, unless they deserve it.
Since writing began in Sumer some three and a half thousand years BC there must have been millions of words written.  For much of that time most could not read but in the last two hundred years reading and writing has been a worldwide activity.  The availability of books or reading material through cost often being the only hindrance but even in such circumstances books, magazines and papers do get passed around.  The problem being only the type of writing being read.
The bible was and is still often banned as it enabled people to think free, governments and wrongdoers hate that.  Politics has banned many books that oppose the emperor whoever he may be and as we have seen the influence of newspapers can give a referendum a bad name.  People are lazy and prefer to be told how to think and tabloid media know this and too many follow their lead so they can live an easy life.  That does not work!
Read uplifting, refreshing, entertaining and thoughtful good things to change your world and the word around you.  Hmmm, maybe I ought to write another book ...?   Jenny, Mike, here is your chance to advertise!

One of the local papers has published a list of items referring to Essex towns in something called the 'Urban Dictionary' whatever that is.  We are listed thus:-

 9. Braintree

"Where the true G's r from innit.
"Braintree U.K u gotta visit it's the place 2 b 2005 true ghetto visit Braintree n ur a true G [sic]."

I have absolutely no idea what they are talking about!  Other Essex town are listed and in my limited experience of them limited correctly here:- 14 Towns.

 

   

A Mill, A Bull, A Pond and A Church

Townsford Mill stands on a spot used by mills of many types going back centuries.  It is thought grain was first milled here in the midst of agricultural land but over the years weaving became the norm.  Samuel Courtauld, one of a family of Unitarians, became sole owner in 1825, one of many mills he was to possess, and soon developed a powerful steam worked silk mill one of the biggest in the country.  However by 1850 foreign competition hit deep into his output this led to a development of Black Crepe often used in funerals, which with a stroke of luck brought him much profit when prince Albert died.  With Victoria descending into deep mourning the nation followed on and Courtauld's Black Crepe was in much demand.  The Mill soon employed over 1400 women using a thousand looms.  Weaving of one sort or another continued until 1982 and soon after the closure the antiques people moved in and what a success this has become.

 
Where once a thousand looms deafened the girls working them now a variety of units peddle items some of which my family still put to good use.  Imaging how many items now considered 'antique' are still lying abode the abode?  There is a restaurant in the bottom and two floors of junk valuable items much of what I found very interesting and a great deal of it not too expensive either.  If I had money and wall space I could have gone for several pictures and the number of books on show tempted me, I kept telling myself to go back to charity shops for them.  After wandering I retrieved my bag from reception, they somehow did not trust me, and asked the young lady about the gun she had by her side.  A rifle of great age lay there which she said she kept for troublesome customers. she waved it in the direction of her friend who ran for it.  However  it turns out to be a toy!  An expensive toy for a young lad 150 years or more ago I suspect.  I decided not to buy as getting on a bus these days with a rifle gets funny looks from others I find.

These two houses are part of a row which Samuel Courtauld built for his workers.  He was not penny pinching when he asked George Sherrin to build them in 1883 was he?  I suspect the more loyal workers with their families were placed in here.  Courtauld employed 70 men and boys as well as the women, many of those rescued from London's workhouses and offered jobs in Essex.  Long hard hours for seven shillings and sixpence may not seem much now but it was better than a life on the street which was the future for many of the girls otherwise at that time.  The weavers cottages from yesterday were probably built by him for his workers also.

     
 Amazing how dingy clearish brown water runs up to the mill but on the other side the river is overgrown all the way along.  Reed clutter the river bed and had I the energy I would have walked along for a few miles to see a bit of countryside.  Instead I came upon this bedraggled old building once a hive of industry and now awaiting its fate.

Originally part of the railway yard this large double sized building looks derelict and rather sad at the moment.  This is a reflection on how important railways were to industry in times past as the goods yard was big for such a town and business must have been brisk.  Today little remains although one or two station building have been reused, however I suspect few under seventy remember the line in operation.

Some folks like it however.  Three windows had such a bird taking ownership of the place.  Plenty large windows to go round for everybody.

As I avoided spilling my lunch in the Bull Inn I gazed at the thick aged beams that hung above me.  These may have been part of the original building when created in the 1400's.  Imagine, in spite of adaptions and renovations over the years, imagine how many have supped here over the past seven centuries?  Impossible to miss at the bottom of the hill the bridge over the river is outside the door and I wonder if any careless driver or runaway horse and cart have clattered into the Bull?  I can see many drivers of both horse and car doing so.  

  
Waiting at the door for the taxi to come through...

 
The public gardens are well maintained by the excellent council workforce and here the memorial to the lost of WW2 is found.  A small four sided plinth is engraved with the names of the lost and the gardeners have created this magnificent Lancaster Bomber as tribute to the airmen who lost their lives.  Apparently this is the second Lancaster, the year before that a Glider was made.  I see this as a magnificent gesture and who knows what they have in mind for the next one. 
Well done to the council gardeners!

The gardeners also maintain the excellent pond which has found favour with several ducks.  So happy are they that mum has produced at least four chicks who stumble around the pond searching for lunch.  Kids are always hungry, at least when it suits them.

Not far from the pond stand the disused Holy Trinity Church.  The architect one Sir George Gilbert Scott a man famous for many buildings such as the Midland Hotel, The Foreign & Commonwealth Office and the Albert memorial.  This was one of his earlier works in 1843/44 and now stands bare and rather sad.  The outside is impressive but as almost everything relevant has been removed the building is in the care of The Churches Conservation Trust.

It was as I turned and looked down the nave that I suddenly became rather depressed by the disconsolate appearance a disused church has.  It matters not that this was a 'High Church' in times past (It appears a golden cross was offered  for processions and some objected, possibly the protestant types. This cross soon disappeared and was later found bent over in the River Colne.  It was returned to the vicar in 1911 and soon back in use.)  

One of the few remaining items is the Great War Memorial which appears to be still made use off.

Some people have not been forgotten.

 

Scott had a sense of humour it seems to me.  Just what encouragement these faces high above every pillar in the church gave I am unsure.  There was a variety of faces and I winder if he had someone in mind for each of them?  Were they posed I wonder?

 
OK, you can wake up now.  No more from Halstead that I will show.

What's That in the Distance?

During the second world war (1939-1945 in case you missed it) a mistake was made.  Fear of invasion led to the erection of many 'pill boxes' around the land and those in charge of defence made one little error.  A line of 'pill boxes' and other deterrents were strung across southern England in an attempt to stop any approaching army.  When placed in charge of such defences General Alan Brooke quickly caused this to stop and followed the correct procedure, one later used by Field Marshall Edwin Rommell along the Atlantic coast, which was to make every effort to stop an invader on the beaches so they could not secure and establish a 'bridgehead.'  Therefore he turned attention away from inland and beaches everywhere were crowded by builders busily working out their profits while ladling cement onto little round boxes suitable for two or three machine gun armed men. In the distance while passing wearily home from the crowds in Chelmsford's centre I noted this lump in a field.  At first I thought it was hay bales that farmers often pile up, usually however next to farm buildings, and later realised this was one of the old 'pill box' defences.

On Friday after wandering around the churchyard I came past the field and crossed the path well worn by dog walkers toward the concrete box.  It was clearly well used by the younger generation and the original door long removed for other use and a hole large enough for my bulk to enter had been created.
I have wanted to get inside one of these for eons.  Here I was in the smelly, plastic bottle and other crap littered den, plastic not a substance that has been left by the original users.  This was a mess, the concrete worn and corrugated iron sheets peeling from the wall however it was large enough for me to stand upright and I moved into the separate compartment inside where the rubble made waking difficult and darkness made it hazardous.  

 
The field of view was interesting however and would not have been welcomed by the folks living in the houses over there.  Had an invasion occurred most of the Regular Army would have been placed down at the beachhead and places further inland such as this would have possibly been occupied by Territorials or the 'Home Guard, 'Dad's Army.  How would they feel in this dark place lit by candles or oil lamp probably when confronted by a large German force intent on blowing them up?  It would be a case of hanging on as long as possible before they finally shoved a grenade through the hole and finished you off.

This field slopes down towards the River Chelmer, a small narrow stream at this point and I suspect it often overflows in winter almost up to the 'pill boxes.'  I say 'boxes' as I had not noticed until I got near that there was another tucked away at the bottom of the slope.  Crafty indeed and if the enemy came when crops had risen and were still green this box would be completely hidden until too late. 
In spite of weariness I dragged my bulk across.

 
This smiling face was very different possibly reflecting the constantly changing demands of the War Department (WD) something else that gave the builders much to think about, possibly however they thought more about the great time lag before they actually received any money from the WD!
This was cosier, the wall inside, the door has long gone possibly to use as firewood, and this one is almost untouched.  Behind the blast wall visible inside the door there is nothing but five wee windows opening out over the field and over the river behind.  An excellent position but suicide for anyone occupying this if under fire.  This too was tall enough to stand upright in, little litter was found and looks to me as being almost perfect.

This one does give excellent cover for his mate in the first box and with the 'Home Guard' being trained in their use could it be they fired some sort of projectile by accident into their pals box?  Just asking!  That brings to mind the 'Dad's Army' on the island in the Firth of Forth.  Their job was to fire at enemy aircraft heading towards Rosyth Naval Base and Glasgow further on as well as defend Edinburgh.  However some of the shells were large ones and practice consisted of firing dummy shells out to sea.  On one occasions our heroes managed to fire a large dummy shell into a house in Leith causing considerable damage and irritation.  The residents comments have not been recorded.

From the Firth of Forth to the Chelmer!  A pretty little river here but this area has not been built on and I suspect this is because of midwinter flooding.  Good, this is a pleasant area for those walking dogs or just wanting to commune with creation and I hope this remains like this for some time.

An abundance of this was found by the path as I made my way for the bus, driven by a friendly driver.  Is this 'elderberry' I wonder, as you know I'm not good at plant names.  This type of thing flourishes at this time and the councils have learnt to let it stay until some moaning minnie  grumbles about what it is doing to their coats as they pass.  The beasties must love it and so do I.  Not that I actually eat it you understand.

I noticed this house as I waited for the bus.  The design is typical of Essex.  Small semi detached workers cottages once lived in by farmers labourers and the like.  I note this one has been extended at both ends adding a door one the near end and similar at the other but there an extension, possibly a kitchen has grown on also.  Many similar are found in the area but I wonder if the occupants can put aside the Satellite TV for a while to plant potatoes and cut the grass in the garden? 

Crops

On the far side of the church of St Mary with St Leonard (and how did these two get together I ask?) there are fields, those wonderful things full of crops, wildlife and a variety of chemical pesticides.  This one was full of Rapeseed and as I wondered what caused folks to call it that I was taken by the huge swathe of yellow that can be seen here and dotted all over the nation at this time.  The crop is ready for gathering as far as my ignorant eye could tell and soon will be found standing in plastic containers on supermarket shelves waiting to help you burn your dinner.
While there I met a chap dogwalking for a living and we chatted while the black Labrador dropped his ball at our feet and demanded we kicked it for him to chase.  The other two dogs settled down happily until the chap in the picture appeared as his large dog had run off leaving him puffing behind as the dog wished to meet his friends.  How easily that could have got out of hand but they managed to control all four well.  I noted how he kept the dog on the leash as he wandered over the fields.  What great places for dogs these fields are.  My friend at work told me she had a Labrador that always stayed on the path until they entered fields of Rape then he would go mad jumping around in the crop.  This annoyed her as the dog became covered in green sticky stuff that took effort to clean. 

There was an amazing number of wee beasties wandering around under my feet as I walked.  This surprised me as I thought all the chemicals poured into these fields killed the worms and other creatures leaving the fields almost dead.  The butterfly's passed regularly but refusing to pose for my camera, I have several blurred pictures if you wish to see them, and what is more I have never seen the two colourful ones I tried to capture before so that is a pity. 

This astounding building goes back to the 16th century (that's 1500's to you and me) and there is some thought that this may well have been the vicarage at one point for the church.  Though now divided into two houses it is in typical Essex style, the middle section being the original Hall with two wings attached at either end.  Both wings have been developed differently at various times.  The area is dominated by a large Hall which I missed as it was hidden behind trees and this small area has this building and one or two 19th century erections next door and opposite what once was a row of cottages for the workers now renovated into one expensive house.  On the corner stands an empty pub which also dates back possibly to the 16th century. 
However....

This is found between the windows on the far side of the building and appears to proclaim this was once an Inn.  Being just of the main road it is likely this area developed because of the travellers heading north and requiring food and drink and whatever as they did so.  Therefore two pubs would not be unusual but why does there appear to be no information regarding this?  Is there a dirty secret somewhere?

   
On the main road this row of cottages keeps the famous weatherboarding that once dominated many buildings in Essex.  The county was basically a huge forest and in times past Kings did not wish it to be spoilt so they could hunt there.  However Essex folks still managed to live being quite perverse and rebellious by nature and homes when built had to be made of local materials, wood being the most common.  The Hall was probably built of a wooden frame with plaster walls, this would surely be better.  Something about the side of the building attracted me as it spoke of places from my childhood, or maybe I'm just daft.

I love blue flowers and came upon this in a woman's garden as I headed north.  No idea what it's called but you will know.  Clearly in spite of the masses of traffic behind me this woman takes a lot of care of her plants and likes a well stocked garden. 

Spring in Essex

Gray skies, dead daffodils, drizzle and a cold wind from the north.  
While the blue tits and goldfinches flit through the trees, many still leafless, the branches shake violently as gusts of wind remind us that we live on the far north west of Europe.  The cheery weather people inform us the cold 'blast' from the north will descend this week to make things a lot worse. 
I need not remind you that later this week the month of May begins!
Bah!

Early Morning

At seven this morning I found myself down by the old mill at Bocking. Today this once busy mill, look at the size of it, has been converted into delightful housing with a marvellous outlook, bar the busy road in front!  There is a bridge over the water at this point and it bares the old Bocking motif which includes  a dolphin.  These beasts are also found wrapped around the light thereupon.  Being so far inland these appear somewhat out of place, dolphins being scarce in this river.  However we must go back into the mists of time here and discus ancient church power.

The Archbishop of Canterbury is based in Canterbury, which is just as well after being called that.  Now from 1381 until 1396 William Courtney was that Archbishop.  The Courtneys were also the 'Earls of Devon' and adopted the dolphin, the symbol of Byzantium, as you know, to keep a connection with that city as one of them had been Emperor there no less!  Which one?  No idea, Google it.  The 'Priory of the Holy Saviour' at Canterbury was given authority over the church at Bocking by Aetheric Worthfulman and his wife Leofwin as far back as 1006.  Reasons are not stated.  In Church of England circles this is known as a 'peculiar,' no jokes please.  This means the church at Bocking is administered by the Archbishop of Canterbury rather than the local Bishop.  All very uninteresting to me but that is how it is and has been for over a thousand years.  The Fleur-de-lis was added later, the Courtauld's who we met before were responsible for this, and a town noted for weaving and spinning must have a 'Woolsack' also on the motif.

From this angle I am afraid the dolphin, which appears more like a fish usually, now looks more like a snake!  Still few notice as they hurtle past in their tin boxes.  The beasts crop up here and there around this part of town.

The Essex motif also on the bridge is shown here, three Seaxes on a red background.  This was the symbol of the old East Saxons who once reigned here.  The 'Seax' was a short sword much used by Saxons, and possibly the name derived from 'Saxon,' or maybe it was the other way around.  I never asked...

ps.  I have put the word verification back on for a bit, too much Mr anon again.

Essex Weather

When I arrived here just a touch past eleven years ago, I discovered that I had come to the 'driest county in England.' I rejoiced! Naturally enough it has rained a lot ever since! This year, while we have had some good days, and I have really enjoyed the Spring flowers and such like, the weather has been kind of dreich. Today the clouds hang overhead, gray and sullen, they don't seem to keen to move, and are not keeping the temperature as high as it should be. I listened this morning to a science type informing me that it was definitely man's fault that global warming had occurred. We could not blame the suns temperature changing, as it does from time to time, but we were at fault and no-one else. So why I thought, if it's called 'Global Warming' did I need to put the heating on first thing today? Anyway, not long after midday and the sun is not out, and neither am I! It looks like it will stay this way. Anyway, why is it always man's fault and not women's? Sexist!

Essex

Essex as a county is often treated with a great deal of disrespect. The image is one of the 'Essex girl' A lass who's ambition is to appear topless in 'The Sun' or reach the dizzy heights of being a high class 'model.' After that she will write her autobiography which, one day, she will actually get round to reading. The 'Essex Boy' of course has developed into a full blown 'Chav' these days. Burberry baseball cap, baggy trousers, and lots of cheap Argos jewellery. A shaven head and a gold ear ring helps to seal the image. Scars are worth extra points, and of course an ASBODagenham way.

However, while such folk do exist, and they do, believe me, they do, not all of Essex lives up to the stereotype. On the contrary, it is a place awash with cash! Many a pop star or movie hero will find a thatched or imitation Tudor eight bedroom house with several acres of garden to keep the residuum from the door. The election shows just how many Conservative voters can be found in this part of the world. Small country towns and villages are predominately Tory, and after the recent elections the county is almost all blue! Some areas remain, like Colchester, Liberal Democrat, and a few stay red for Labour, like Harlow. However, for the most part Essex is a moneyed place. The working class also tend to be Conservative in their outlook, lorry and taxi drivers have always been of course, the 'What's mine I keep' people. No concern for others, money first, until they can no longer work of course, then it is as many benefits as possible. many in Essex share this outlook. The 'Daily Mail' and 'Express' must do well here.

Essex is also a delightful place to visit. Historic castles, green and pleasant land, seaside, estuaries, bird sanctuaries and occasional sunshine. Narrow country lanes attract many motor cyclists in the warmer months, around nineteen died last year because of carelessness. But others stop to admire the churches which, in some cases, have stood on that spot for nearly a thousand years. All the requirements an individual needs for a few days out. On top of this Essex is one of the safest counties in England. Put aside the stereotype, leave that along the Thames coast, and let it remain there. or two will make you a hero down

Another Essex Spring Day

You can tell by the cloud overhead. Not dark, but not quiet what one would call light either. The difference between Essex and Edinburgh is striking. Here the East wind is several degrees warmer, in Edinburgh it always cuts through the natives like a knife. There is cloud here while the sun shines on Edinburgh (no I will not say 'Sunshine on Leith' - drat! I did.) this is unusual. Now Easter is approaching we can expect the snow to return at any moment.

Easter! This occasion in which we remember the dying and resurrection of Jesus of Nazareth for all our sins, in an attempt to reconcile us to God! We celebrate this by buying over wrapped and overpriced needless chocolate eggs, sending overpriced cards and indulging in a long weekend romp. Sometimes we even consider the religious side of it, but hey! lets not be a fanatic about this eh?

Sunny Easter (hopefully) approaches. The kids will be out en masse shoplifting, the parents, if not dozing at work, will be otherwise occupied, and most probably uncaring, well some of them anyway, not all parents are bad even if the kids are. many at this very moment are crowding Stansted Airport waiting for the 'Easyjet' to Spain. Their idea of fun is to sit in a bar drinking foul Spanish wine or imported lager, read the 'Daily Mirror' or 'Sun' daily to ensure they do not miss anything important, and spend the rest of the day catching cancer lying in the sun smoking cheap fags. I envy them......

Dry, Sunny Essex

When I came here eleven years ago, I was delighted to discover Essex was the driest county in England! Fantastic! I was also under the impression it was one of the flattest. Combining this 'little Holland' with Global Warming I thought I was on to a good thing here. How wrong I was!

Within two years I received anxious phone calls from relatives worried about the money I had borrowed, asking if I had drowned in the floods. Naturally they were delighted, at least the piggy banks were, that flooding only happened at the bottom of the hills, hills which I thought did not exist! Flooding did take place, and has done since several times. A combination of heavy rain and swollen rivers makes for uncomfortable living. This begs the question, why buy a house at the bottom of a hill next to a stream? And the houses bought are not the cheap ones either. What drives folk to seek houses there? Could it be that is where 'the right people' live? You know, the middle class folks, 'our kind' as it were. Certainly a more intelligent, less class conscious type might move to a better place, but I digress.

The hills. Yes, there are hills, and steep ones at that. I did not notice them at first, but once I got on the bike and found myself struggling up slopes I had not noticed before, then I noticed them. Once I began delivering mail by bike, I noticed them even more!
Struggling up a hill with a twenty five kilo bag of mail aint no fun son I can tell you! Naturally, in such a job as that, there is always one who has to claim he cycles up daily with no problem. We all tend to agree with folk like that. The cycling is no problem, it's the lies that irritate! Why is there always a man who has to boast of his prowess when all and sundry know he is lying? Not only that, he knows we know, but he goes on pretending he is fooling folks, and even impressing them. The word 'tosser' is appropriate here.

Essex, county of hills and rain after all. But on the other hand, there is indeed more dry days than wet, more chance of a hosepipe ban than a flood. More chance of my lottery win arriving than daft middle class types buying houses they actually want than just because they are with the 'right kind of people.' Could be worse mind, I could be in some city centre. At least I can always see the sky here, even if it is overcast and light gray at the moment.

Home is Two Places Edinburgh and Essex

Flying to Edinburgh almost brought one of those 'Idiot' moments. I had booked one of the Boarding Passes,but was unsure about how much Airport Tax had been paid, it increased at the start of the month. As I arrived at the desk to enquire re tax they pointed out the check-in had closed. The idiot inside me had read the closing time as the opening time! So next thing I was rushing, and upsetting my knees in the process, towards Gate 81. This was of course miles away, and I had to go through the security, then the 'shoe check' then rush for miles. Naturally,when I got there the plane was delayed and there had been no need to hurry. Jesus was looking after me, why did I worry? But I do. Self obsessed as I am.

Edinburgh is so different from Essex. Not just the city but the life. When I am there I am actually often back in time, I refer to the airport as 'Turnhouse,' a name not used for thirty years, and I return to a life I left that long ago. Not that it is all bad, however many of my memories are, and I do not like them. However, it is good to see the family. My nieces have all grown up into fine attractive intelligent women each still showing different characters but each one being a lovely lass in every way. Their kids are growing up in the same fine Scots tradition, however much political correctness destroys their education and common sense. And that is the one thing I have always missed down here. Watching them grow up. Now I miss the kids also.
It had to be, but how I wish I had been different.

My mother is now 92 and beginning to feel her age. But she well might outlive most of us! It is difficult being there as I am too selfish and too used to being on my own, hence the great desire to get back home come Sunday night. Nothing is better than being in your own place and following your own routine, no matter how mean and squalid it might be! Again I ask, could I live there? Not at home certainly, but maybe in Edinburgh or thereabouts if I found the right place. Of course to do this I need to win the lottery, and that my friend is just a lottery. But, after the tiredness wore off, I am back in the routine. Job hunt, self concern, staring at wall time asking what to do, then ignoring God and doing whatever I want anyway. Followed either by guilt or nothingness, then questioning how I am to get out of this? Easy pal. stop being selfish, let Jesus be Lord, and it will fall into place, slowly maybe, but surely!

Anyway, the flight back was interrupted by the neighbour at my side talking. Why, I ask, why can women not just look out the window and enjoy the view like I do? However Fiona turned out to be a bright highly intelligent woman, and there is not many of those around. Working for the Voluntary Arts project and struck me as well worth knowing. In the end I had to admit it was the best journey for a while. I also noticed how many folk seem to stand around doing little at the airport. Seems to me that is something to look into. That's my kind of work.

So by the grace of God the trip went reasonably well. However I still do not relate properly to Mum. Would I get on so well with the rest if I was nearby? They would see me as I am, and although they have a good idea of my ways, it will be awful to have them know just what a complete clown I am.

So Jesus, here we are, grateful for the wee holiday, but living totally for my squalid self once again. I apologise almost humbly, but still find my mind full of thoughts that do not glorify you, expose my weakness and emptiness, and indicate just how far I am from you. Should I stay in Essex or indeed anywhere else? I just do not know. Many good things here in northern Essex, not being alongside the stereotype 'Essex Boy and Girl' is one of them. But what now? I don't know, why ask me.......?

Things You Miss

The view from the Edinburgh window was once something I missed so much. Looking north over the Forth the lights of Burntisland would glitter all night, ship would pass along the Forth giving life to the scene. The skies in late Autumn would be magnificent, and the only fault that could be found was the haar and rain that so often assails us there.
Londons view was to the East. Marvelous in the morning, the bright sun shining over the church opposite, crows circling above noisily chasing the occasional Kestrel. But in the afternoon it was dire. How I missed those Edinburgh skies!
Now, here in the wilds of Essex the view North brings lovely skies. It is understandable why Constable spent so much time painting clouds! When in London it is so hard to 'see' the sky! Here at least that is possible, and we do not realise how much daylight and space is needed in our lives. But the twinkling of lights in the distance is missing. No ships pass by in the distance, only the occasional ned yelling his way home.
I realise there are many things more important to some of us that we can miss. However, for me, the sight of a sky, an interesting view, makes life more attractive.

Great Saling

Went for a little jaunt this morning. First time in years I was in the mood to cycle. The sun was up, the wind a bit chilly, coming from the North and all, but not too bad I thought. I cut across to the old railway line, now called the Flitch Way, and trundled uphill into Rayne.
This is an excellent way of using old railway lines. Walking, cycling, or in some parts at least, horse riding along them makes a grand day out. With blossom on the bushes and trees, birds singing overhead, the remnants of what appear to be badgers setts, and of course rabbit holes aplenty, there is much going on all around. Middle age women jogging , younger ones jogging with a push chair, can also be seen. Hope the kid appreciates it!
Stopping on occasion and just listening is worthwhile. Not much sound, a bird or two, rustling leaves, something dashing through the undergrowth, not very exciting maybe, but after town life a welcome change, and just plain enjoyable!
being brave or stupid I decide to venture down the Shalford Road. I knew it went on for a bit, but I intended to cut off and make my way past the old Andrews Airfield, and once again wonder how B17s took of from there during the war! Those big lumbering airplanes, loaded with bombs, on that small field trundling uphill and rising into the sky one after the other must have been some sight. And, I imagine, some noise too! The thoughts and feelings of men in their teens and twenties heading over the channel and crossing well defended enemy territory known only unto themselves. The thoughts and feelings of those left behind, giving the orders, not much different.
However, I passed into Great Saling and decided it was a bit much to continue down the Stebbing way, not being sure how far it was and all that, and instead made my way back past Blake House farm and into Rayne once again.
Country roads, when not being used by white van man or baileys feed lorries, are refreshingly quiet. Sure some use them as a chance to pretend they are in a Ferrari at Monza, but I found few, and most were careful of the bike. The road allows time to stop and stare at the fields and the distant hamlets. To wonder what history has gone before over these quiet places. Who has passed this way in times gone, the famous, the infamous, the vassals working the fields as slaves, or the big house owners jealously guarding their lands.
Did any leave these fields and join the 'peasants revolt' all those years ago? This area certainly took part. How many had survived the plague? The fields, now worked by one man and his machine once had twenty or thirty at one time working all the hours God sent. What work that would have been at harvest time!
Airmen, drunkenly making their way here from Braintree or Rayne, winding up the hilly roads, not that hilly but try it after a few pints mate! Vassals and peasants. Lords and Ladies,Kings and Queens maybe passed along this small narrow, roadway in times past.
And here was I also!
Great Saling has little to show the world. The 'Orangery,' whatever that is, was clearly an important red brick complex from times past. What it is now I am unsure. A few old world style thatched houses and little else to see. The village shop has closed. How will the gossips get their news now?
Back down the rail track and home and into the bath was all that remained.
An enjoyable way to spend your leisure, if the sun shines!

Essex the driest county?

When I landed here ten years ago I was informed that this was the driest county in England. Note, that is England, and not the UK as a whole. It is not possible for there to be a dry county anywhere in Scotland, Wales or Northern Ireland! Being in the South East, and further East than any other part of the mainland, means that the winds, mostly from the West, bring the rain in from the Atlantic and deposit it cheerily on everyone else.
This I have to say, I don't mind in the least!

However, along with the other lie, the one that tells you how flat Essex is, I have discovered, especially since becoming a postman, that it rains quite a lot in Essex! Not only does this town have several hills far too steep for my liking, but there has been occasions when attempting to cycle up them with a heavy bag in a downpour has made me wonder at the aridity of the region.
I can go so far as to say that only a year or two ago they were talking of how wet it was, and how could this be? People blamed global warming! Somewhat earlier, in the first year or two since my arrival, the weather had been very hot and dry. People blamed global warming!
Since becoming a postman, the English around me have blamed me, because 'You are used to this sort of thing!' I am not actually! I have spent more time here than in Edinburgh! And even if I was, I still dislike coming home with boots squelching, and having my outfit drying all around the house. Worse is the morning after when nothing is completely dry.

Today another county has announced a hosepipe ban. The water folk have asked people to shower instead of bath, and to use water carefully. They themselves are going to be kind enough to attempt to stop the water leaks which account for a third of all lost water.
A THIRD! A third of water is lost throughout leaks!
May I suggest a lowering of profits while these anomalies are attended to!

Meanwhile Essex may have to have such a ban imposed, not that it will affect me, I have no garden, just a couple of dying plants here on the window. I suppose I could do my bit to save water by sharing a bath with someone, that would help. Wanted, female for back scrubbing, any takers?

The Old Railway Track

Converting old railways into country paths has been one of the better ideas in this nation. Of course we had lots of them, and few were of any other use, so make use of them I say.
Being Thursday morning few were around. It was gray and sort of drizzly at times, and the roads on the way there were a bit wet.
I have not been there for at least three years and in times past I went up this way almost daily. Not much has changed but improvements have been made. The track itself has been relaid, and at one or two notoriously muddy areas drainage and tarmac paths have been installed. This makes a huge difference from previous days. Not much fun attempting to ride the bike through several inches of mud. A new bridge has been installed avoiding the need to risk death crossing the bypass. That was fun, and with the new road installed this was a good use of cash!

I crossed the bridge but halted there. It was far enough for today.
Spent a while staring at the fields and wondering why God and I are so far apart. Well actually it is because of me, not him, so why do I ask? But it was good to talk.

It was good coming back, as there is an optical illusion on the way. It looks like you have a climb ahead of you, but instead the track gently slopes in the homeward direction. Great on the bike as you can pick up speed if late, and gently glide if not.

Enjoyable but brief time. Nothing like seeing grass and trees to relax the mind.
Funnily enough, when I came near the village I resented the intrusion of all those houses.
It just spoilt a good happening!