A Night Out

Monday night was an excuse to go outside. on a Spring evening.  What a delight to walk across the park, sun shining, birds singing, knees creaking, while heading for the local High Church version of Anglicanism.  Because the Church of England no longer has money to pay for a proper vicar our man now has responsibility for both our church and this one.  Monday night was the official engagement as it were of that position.  

Cynics may say that the lack of vicars has to do with the lack of cash to pay them, so many now are female, tsk!  And cynics may say if we had less people higher up we could pay for people at the front line?  Those high up are often lost in a world of their own and while contribution fail a better understanding of need arises.  Far too many churches are being lumped together under one man.  Attendance dwindles, this happens, but the answer is always to be bible based, however, it is clear the churches which refuse this are the ones losing ground.  

Our recent curate was happily inducted into his role as vicar a while ago, during Covid.  Today he runs five churches, though he does have a very good support system there.  

Our man here will have a very good support system at our church, quite what the other will provide I am not sure.  Too many elderly ladies who do fine things, but that is not church leading.  Too many aged men, not all able or willing to lead, and too few young people incoming.  

However, the evening was a success, all were happy, everything looks good.  There again, at such gatherings not only does the Bishop, the Archdeacon and lots of spare vicars appear but afterwards there is lots of good nosh.  The women were busy providing, sandwiches, cakes, and our side with an Asian vicar, provided lots of Asian foodstuffs.  I put on weight last night.  All in a good cause.

At the weekend this 1620 house caught fire.  Once at least four doors were seen at the front, homes to agricultural labourers working the fields around, now, one long house, or at least it was one long house.

I do not know what caused the blaze, they are still debating this, but the entire thatched roof has gone, the contents upstairs destroyed, and downstairs probably flooded.  At least the people got out but consider their next steps.  I hope they have a place to abide now.

Cars, Furniture and Fire

Why are car ads so bad?

I rarely watch TV but the ads offered in between football or cricket bare little resemblance to the car on offer.  On one, a female ballet dances around for no good reason while the car putters about.  What is it saying?  Cultured car?  Take up dancing?  What does this tell us about the vehicle itself?

Another features a man, in slow motion, diving into a swimming pool, why?  Is this saying watch out you have driven into the pond? 

All is image, and all image is meaningless to me.  

Possibly there are people out there highly influenced by these ads, I suggest they get themselves a life.  I wonder if anyone who actually knows about cars is impressed by the ads?  Certainly those who think themselves important, those 'on the up' will be impressed if an ad featured a 'big car' driven by a 'Big man,' they will buy one as this shows them they have made it.  Poor fools.    

Nothing wrong with the car of your dreams, I await my Landrover arriving, I have waited a long time, and nothing wrong with succeeding and having such cars.  However, all cars are sold by image, what then does that say about people who are impressed by car adverts?  What sort of life are they hoping for?

Sir Terence Conran has died.  He was the man who gave us the 'Habitat' shops and they say, 'revolutionised the way we live.'  Hmmm.  I wandered through the Chelmsford shop a few years ago and found myself checking the high prices and wondering in the 'Habi' part of the name was required. On show was a lot of cheap furniture, made out of cheap wood, fancy designs occasionally, but always with a big, needless, price tag.  Was it because it became fashionable it 'revolutionised our lives?'  Or was it for the actual style on offer?  I am afraid hs shop made me look at the 'Sue Ryder charity shop furniture section' for better quality and longer lasting furniture.  Indeed, my house is almost all second hand, rather like my humour...

One thing that caught my eye was the sight of small US towns obliterated by the fires hanging over Oregon.  I grumble about laptops or the milk being off while others are looking at a pile of ash and wondering where their house has gone.  Small town America would never be my idea of home, but we must sympathise with those who no longer have a home, who may have lost all insurance documents, and who may have lost friends or even family in the fire.  

Our life is not so bad after all.

 

Smoke Gets in my Eyes.

The windows being open all sorts of aroma's pass inside. Tonight I am enduring the burning of what I believe may be garden rubbish, the first of the leaves falling from the autumnal trees or that kind of garden leftovers they don't think about turning into compost.  This happens annually, however I fail to see where it comes from, it arrives from the west but that way lies town centre and no-one to burn leaves.  Tis mystery all.
The smell of small fires in the open long after the fire has been ditched and left to burn out has been with me for many years.  I can remember the strong aroma when an uncle was clearing leaves in his garden way back when, and more so when on the rare occasions we went under the bridge taking the railway from Granton harbour into town and stalked Granton Beach, a beach which some refer to as 'Wardie Beach' but we never did.  
Here there was always at least one charcoaled set of embers to be found, the bouquet hanging in the still air, well, air as still as possible on that beach.  The beach was not great, many stones and too little sand, this hemmed in by the high ban, now removed, carrying the railway by.  The condition was not supreme, it was always somewhat dingy, this being the result of the Firth of Forth being a heavily used stretch of water in those days far off.  
In the far distance jutting out into the gray sea lies Newhaven Harbour, then full of fishing boats right up until the 1960's when they began to be replaced with rich men's playthings.  That is all that remains today.  On both sides of the Forth lay fishing harbours full of men risking their lives night after night, the 'silver darlings' have long disappeared and the cod and haddock dwindling but most boats today are smaller craft looking for the Lobster pots dumped out at sea the night before.  
At the time the picture was taken early in the 20th century the Royal Navy based half the Fleet at Rosyth and when my dad was growing up he could see such a collection of blue gray ships heading out to sea, Battle-cruisers, Cruisers, frigates, Destroyers and smaller ships abounding following them out.  Add to this the steamers from all over the world landing a variety of goods at Granton as opposed to the larger harbour the other side of Newhaven at Leith.  
The condition of the water may not always have been that clean as far as I can see but people spent time there and made the most of it.  Today, with the railway removed the area is cleaner, grass is planted in the rear, the space open and the sea cleaner as less ships pass by, a few large tankers and many small pleasure craft.  
The harbour behind has changed with one half being filled in and now crowned with large glass fronted blocks of flats with magnificent views and prices to match.  No more steam trains chugging past, fewer foul mouthed sailors, and one time warehouse or marine offices and lighthouses now turned into dwellings.  
However I bet people still build fires from driftwood, attempt to cook potatoes, and burn their fingers while eating them leaving the hazy smoke and its aroma to drift across the old breakwater and the new residences with the same freedom it has always enjoyed.

Bank Holiday Baloney

It was warm enough when I went to Tesco at ten this morning and the sun has reached 31/87% at the moment.  
I am inside!
Today is a rest day, not that I intended that, I have just done nothing but shop and eat or sleep since. 
Suits me.
Being a Bank Holiday there is of course no news just pictures of people burning in the sun or getting ready to travel slowly along 'A' roads back from the seaside.  Boris however finds a space by declaring Pork Pies are sold to Thailand but cannot be sold to the USA because of trade restrictions.  Immediately he is proved wrong by the Pie makers who have never sold pies to Thailand and don't bother with the US as it aint not worth it.  Good old Boris getting his facts wrong.  The fake news offered continues when he claims foreign observers ought not to talk to those opposing Brexit because it cannot be stopped, just like all his other promises this is incorrect also.  The more time he spends with Trump, the saviour of the world, the more time he becomes a little Trump.  Maybe it's an Eton thing?

   Amazon

Meanwhile I have been finishing some books.  This one was a bit slow, the author tended to spend to much time on detail better omitted and stick to the flow of the story, though I suspect he was attempting to establish Bonhoeffer's 'Christology by doing so.  He is also American speaking to a generation that emerged long after the war and therefore has to explain thing most people came to know in the 50's and 60's.  
Bonhoeffer grew up in a  wealthy family with legal leanings and for some reason chose early to read theology.  He, like his family, was not a church going type so the reasons for his choice are unclear.
He was then educated at a liberal type theology college and was to spend his life in study rather than normal pastoral roles.  These did come later during the 1930's when Adolf Hitler was making his mark and it is remarkable that this man's learning gave him the desire to oppose the rise of the Nazi Party.
The church in Germany had a close connection to the state and many Christians happily went along with a Nazi ruled church, the minority opposed this and many were not to survive the war, and mostly not from enemy action.  
Bonhoeffer did his best to prepare men for leadership in the church, especially after the war,all the time becoming more and more evangelical in this thought as he did so.  However this was not clear enough and he fell into the trap of associating with men who wished to remove Hitler and spent much time in jail as a reward.  Killing Adolph was not a Christians job, something he failed to appreciate, terrible though such men are they have to wait in God's time not ours.  By 1944 unknown to Bonhoeffer the allies did not wish Adolph killed as he was seen as their best general!  His tactical knowledge, or lack of it, his insistence on standing strong by 'the power of his will' did not reinforce the men at the front as he had hoped.  
Bonhoeffer, like most of the conspirators died before the war ended, Bonhoeffer on the 9th of April 1945 one month before the ceasefire.   His call had been clear for a long time, if you follow Jesus you must do so even if it leads to death.  Death to self is a Christian calling, on occasions it must be taken literally.  It is to Dietrich Bonhoeffer's credit that he took that line seriously.  We are left wondering what would have he produced had he lived?

While fire engulfs the Amazonian forests creating profit for cattle farmers and a variety of national presidents Dunfermline proved they too could manufacture fire for no good reason.  Here a 14 year old proved this by setting for to his school and destroying at least the 'Additional Support Needs Department which I suspect he knows well, and damaged at least a fifth of the school buildings.  There are now 1400 happy pupils (sorry, students) wandering around upsetting locals by not being locked in their classrooms.  Anything right wing South American dictators can do Scotland can do better!

Fire!

I found it quite strangely hurtful to watch Notre Dame burn yesterday.  Strange as I have never been there but I suppose it was because of the long history of the building and the billion euro's it will cost to repair.  All that history lost in a few moments.
Already both the men renovating the building and a variety of Muslim groups have been unofficially blamed for starting the fire, the source of the blame having no evidence for any blame at any time naturally.  Far too early for anyone to know the reason for the fire although firemen will have quickly worked out where it began and possibly how.  We await the first evidence led report.  This however will not stop alt-right groups blaming Islamic types and if evidence shows otherwise cries of 'whitewash' will follow.
The loss of such buildings brings a variety of reactions, not least from the media who love such disasters.  Those 24 hour rolling news station have much to talk about, and repeat endlessly, all day and all night while waxing lyrical about the findings thereof.  There has been sentimental guff flowing from many sides, much desire to see the 'Crown of Thorns' made safe alongside other treasures from the museum.  Whether the thorns are indeed genuine I know not, if they are I would burn them before people worship them rather than Jesus.  One report emphasised the image of the golden cross above the altar gleaming in the mirk as the firemen posed at the door.  This was given heroic status while at the same time ignoring the real meaning of the cross, that would not sell to the public in the same manner.  
I like and dislike such buildings.  As interesting places to visit they are great, as history they tell us a great deal, especially when you follow the timeline down the years.  However rarely are such places real churches!  Ecclesiastical types who end up running these large buildings often have less interest in God than in ecclesiastical position.  Bishops can indeed know their God but too many are so far from them they ought to be deposed.  Such buildings are more heritage than Christian and a glance at the material sold in the church bookstall usually reveals where the church leaders stand. 
I have been round Westminster Abbey, a marvellous building with many national hero's and kings buried therein but is it a church or a national institution?  Durham Cathedral, where I had a short visit in the 90's is a tremendous sight, the columns just reach up into the heights and give a strange impression when you stare up at them.  If only I had a camera then?  Durham also contains the tomb of Bede the historian and Cuthbert the monk.  Both are worth visiting but are they true churches?  I doubt it.  In the 80's the new Bishop of Durham made clear he did not believe in most biblical doctrines, the Virgin Birth was one given much publicity at the time, yet he was appointed because of his academic talents.  This tells us much.     

Like many Abbey's, cathedrals and churches in the UK this one reaches back probably to a Gaulish pagan site which over the years has had a small church erected upon it, as here a larger then even larger building is erected until in the 1100's this great Cathedral was begun.  This would be dedicated no doubt to the glory of God but in truth such buildings are reflections of power, the Norman's rebuilt wooden Saxon churches in stone for this reason and vast stone cathedrals arose to impress upon the natives that they were the boss.  Most natives would of course be impressed yet their lives would change little, sow, reap and suffer was always their lot.  
As you know during 1185 Heraclius of Jerusalem called for the third crusade from the cathedral, and in 1481 Henry VI of England was crowned King of France here.  Happier news in 1537 James V. King of Scots married Madeline of France while in 1558 Mary, Queen of Scots married the Dauphin, that turned out well.  In 1804 Napoleon had himself crowned emperor by Pope Pius VII though I believe he took the crown and laid it upon his own head.  1831 the Victor Hugo novel about the hunchback was published creating a great interest in the building and leading to restoration work.  This would have included the bells had he stopped swinging on them. 
The vast number of people, clerics, congregation or workers who have passed through the building always impress me.  Some came for God, some obediently, many in desperation, many in anger.  The building has been the target of reformers and extremists with bombs, it has fans worldwide and cynics there also.  The poorest in France will wonder at the millions to be spent on a building while they continue to live as they do.  This building has seen many such societal differences!

Smoke Gets Up My Nose

The air has been heavy with the scent of someone's fire this afternoon.  I note, and you can see, how the mist has surrounded us this evening seemingly still full of the residue from those Portuguese fires at the weekend.  Maybe it is the general stour that fills this land of course but either way it is getting up my stuffy nose.

I did not realise that Portugal was so densely forested until now.  Apparently it is one of the most wooded parts of Europe.  Now consider a government struggling with a poor economy, the forested areas owned mostly by private companies and organisations and a lack of proper fire control ( a little bit like our tower blocks) a land dry from hot sun and climate change and trees soaking up what water there is and a tinder box appears.  Dry ground, badly organised woods, scrub for kindling and a couple of arsonists arrive and there will be trouble.  
Several have died in this latest fore, 60 died in June, and today the minister resigned, more for her own good rather than for shame it appears and the government might yet fall in consequence.  
It causes me to wonder how a fire so far away can get up my nose here.  I wish it would blow over the Atlantic next time as I find it hard enough to breathe today anyway.

I have been subject to much sarcasm from a woman.  My 'friend' Peggy has seen fit to question my situation with sarcasm and satire, offering contempt and a distinct lack of sympathy.  This is because as I was shown the door at the museum yesterday for being sick she had to work for a change.  The caring staff sent me home as they did not wish me to die on the counter and coughing over the visitors, both of them, was considered bad form.  
Much sarcasm has been offered.  Remember this you females of the species:-

Now excuse me while I get matron to fix up that intravenous 'Hot Toddy' drip and wipe my brow while muttering "There there," "Poor boy," and "Be brave," instead of the present cries of "Wimp," "If you knew what a woman goes through," and "Try having a baby!"  All of which cut no ice with me!  Now where is the paracetamol...?  

Charity Begins at Home...?

I was impressed by the screaming headlines in the press this morning concerning the tower block fire yesterday.  All called for someones head, all yelled about safety, all demanded something ought to be done.
Where were they several years ago when the tenants of this block demanded changes?  Where was the press opposition when the Labour Party attempted to ensure landlords made their properties safe for tenants?  They were nowhere as these were not important stories for the daily press, sex, scandal, political intrigue and immigrants sells papers not dangerous housing, especially among the lower orders.  Especially when some 71 Conservative MPs who voted against the Labour bill demanding landlords took action were and still are landlords themselves!  The Tory press would not mention this.
Out of some 400 or so tenants less than half have been identified, I feel for the foremen who have to clear the building once it is made safe.
When these buildings arose in the 1950's they were an answer to a desperate housing problem.  It was not long before the dehumanising aspect of the style of building came to the fore, and indeed the misbehaviour of the people living in such blocks.  Lack of authoritative control, ignorant tenants and soon these places were wastelands.  Only once done up and sold off to paying owners with porters, sorry 'Concierge' at the door could such places work.  It is not just the building but the people that ruin such creations.  Of course many were badly designed, many have been destroyed and more human housing produced but in the end the people decide whether a housing development works or not.
I liked the idea of being high up, great views, wonderful skies, but if the lift breaks you are trapped.  We know know, and ought to have known long ago, that fire is a hazard to be avoided.  No block of flats ought to go over four stories in my view, this enables most firemen to gain access to you.  It was very difficult to watch the pictures of the trapped high above, or listen to the tales of the survivors.  This made worse by endless speculation and repetition of survivors stories over and over again to no-ones advantage.  
Of course the £62 million or so taken from the Fire Service has to play a part, closing fire stations, and I read somewhere that yesterday the government sold all the fire engines and equipment to a private company on the very day this fire erupted.  That requires checking but sounds just like this government.  I was intrigued to find a link on Twitter to an item in the London Evening Standard blaming cuts to services as one factor responsible for the fire, the Evening Standard the paper now 'edited' by one George Osborne the failed chancellor of the Exchequer who brought in the 'austerity' that gave us the cuts and decimated the Fire Service, the Police, the Ambulance crews, the NHS and everything else!   I wonder if George read that item?

When I met one of my women today we discussed, among other important topics, the response to the tragedy.  People were collecting items to send, food, clothes, blankets and the other daily requirements that the folks from the tower have lost.  I noticed some wished to do so round her, others as far away as Fife were offering items and then I began to think something was not right here.  For a start this disaster occurred in London, relatively close to the centre of the city and with seven or eight million people and a good number there willing to help there is no real need for people at a distance offering such aid.  A friend of mine is in close contact with the Latymer Church which is close to the tower and had things been desperate I suspect a call would have gone out for items.  

So what makes people respond this way?  When I was fifteen the Aberfan disaster occurred.  This was a mining village in Wales where an unsteady coal bing, the residue of coal waste that towered above the village gave way and fell across the village destroying the primary school and killing around one hundred and fifty young children.  Far away in Edinburgh watching this unfold on our rented Black and White TV I was gripped with a desire to go and dig out the kids.  An absurd idea as if miners and police could not save the I certainly would not.  
Years later while working for a charitable organisation I came across a wise item in a magazine where the author asked about those helping at Aberfan, they would come for miles to help he said but would they care about the man next door having a breakdown?  It is easy to rush to a disaster, it is hard to cope with daily stress of individual or local group disasters, no less real but not so spectacular.   Is rushing to a disaster such as this from far away the right thing to do, is it really 'loving your neighbour?'

  
Another man who has had a personal disaster is Tim Farron the Lib-Dem leader.  His party did not have an great success during the election, it did however grow from I think 8 seats to 12 so it wasn't all bad, but he himself was hounded by the media not on his policies but because he follows Jesus.
When interviewed there were few policy questions merely constant queries regarding whether he thought as a Christian homosexuality was a sin.  This was the constant refrain and sadly he failed to cope with this.  Instead of loudly brazing it out and saying "Yes it is!" he attempted to compromise out of 'consideration' for others opinions.  This was wrong!  The other day a senior Liberal in the House of Lords resigned because he objected to the biblical position offered by Tim, this has forced Tim Farron into resigning his position as leader.  A mistake in my view.  This Lord ought to have been castigated for his intolerance, his prejudice and his religious discrimination and thrown out of the party!  It is the Liberal Party after all so why has he now allowance for liberty?
Underneath all this lies the clear anti-Christian forces that dominate the media, that through the gay lobby harass those who stick to Christian principles (the Muslims are however never attacked as they might fight back) and white, middle class socialists, who have never done a proper days work in their lives, dominate the world.  We must obey their commands and accept homosexuality and all the other apparently new found behaviours as normal even if they are not.  From primary schools now children are indoctrinated to believe such behaviour is normal, instead of accepting people who behave thus, a very big difference!  The gay lobby leads the attack on the church as that is the truth that the power behind them hates, Christians such as Tim Farron ought to be given support to take his stand and not attacked constantly because of this.

We are right to wonder if there would have been a Lord grumbling if Tim won a lot of seats, we are right to wonder if all would be different then?  Possibly the Lord was only one man involved in a coup and we will soon know if his friend the new leader, whoever he may be, invites him to be a spokesman for something in the Lords.

I was forced out into the sunshine thrice today.  Not only did I have to visit two supermarkets to obtain cheap supplies but the brutes at the bird feeders broke one of the feeders and later I had to walk in the heat wearing dark glasses and bumping into things just to buy another.  Naturally the young girls at the counter were impressed with my 'James Bond' approach, I could tell by the way they looked at me, one of them even woke up long enough to almost smile.  I could see she was finding it tough having spend many years in school learning about many things and discovering work was in fact boring!  Having gained umpteen 'O' and 'A' levels and been interviewed as if she was applying for work as a rocket scientist she finds herself at a check out in a far too warm and stuffy store dealing with the public!  Poor lass, I hope something better arrives soon.  I always like to cheer such as her up by reminding them they can leave at 65 or 70 and enjoy retirement but they always look so glum when I do.  
It's a giggle mind! 

Friday Wander

Wandering about Camolodunum today I discovered the Orthodox Church of St Helen tucked away round the back streets.  Greek Orthodox do appear in many byways in the UK, one in Bayswater was a large and wealthy church with all the top people attending, this sadly is somewhat run down today.  The picture makes it look better than it is (adjusting white balance to shade does this) and I was disappointing for the people there as it must cost a bit to maintain.
I was glad of the cool rest on a muggy day and took one or two shots and sat and looked around me. As the do the place was covered with icons, something I can never comprehend.  To me the book says read the book, baptism and Lords table, anything else, no matter how long it has been in vogue, is needless.  Yet in Orthodox circles such abound.  I wanted to take a few more shots but was disturbed by some unsmiling Mediterranean patrons who arrived, mother kissing several icons, dad another, all glaring at stranger.  I attempted to exchange a few words but was not made welcome and moved elsewhere.

The church was originally built in the eighth century possibly by King Offa of Mercia (the English Midlands) who had overlordship here.  The building was erected upon the foundations of a Roman theatre, this being the actors end, the ground rising behind.  Just a few doors up there is a small unopen museum where some remains can be glimpsed as can this model.

After the Boudicca revolt, she was upset when the Roman governor slapped her around, raped her daughters and grabbed her land, she was irked enough to burn down Verulanium (St Albans) Londinium (London) and Camolodunum (Colchester) and all those within, so the Romans strengthened the walls of the town, butchered most of her people and settled down in their new theatre.  Walls around the town were added quickly, just in case.
So the church was built on the foundations of the ruin and thin red Roman bricks can be seen in the walls.  Something seen on so many churches in Essex, old Roman villas are often reused. 
The Normans rebuilt what is now known as Colchester castle, although it was never really such, and around 1079 rebuilt the church which was a bit run down.  The reformation removed all the needless stuff and the building served many purposes until once again restored during Victorian days.  The Orthodox looking for a building now rent this from the Anglican owners and this gets used regularly after some years of standing empty or being used as a store.  How can such old buildings be used this way? 
Some believe St Helen, the mother of Constantine was born in King Coel's Castle, Colchester Castle, and this may be true I know not, she was probably born in Asia minor however.  She dug deep under Constantine's original Church of the Holy Sepulchre and found pieces of the 'Holy Cross.'  I have been down the steps leading to this area and have my doubts personally.  The idea of his mum with pick and shovel digging down intrigues me however.  British connection exists with this pair however as Constantine was declared Emperor while at York while his father Constantius Chlorus was governor of Britain.
Typical Yorkies!
The East Saxons living here by the way gave us the term 'Essex' and the present Essex County badge features three Seax's, the curved sword loved by the locals at the time. Some would love having one today if you ask my opinion.

Standing outside the 'castle' today you get a real understanding of the defensive position.  High on hills on three sides once the Roman walls went up it was very strong indeed.  The Romans of course never took the place by force, the locals in Kent and Essex welcomed the advantages Rome could bring and those that didn't got chopped.  The town had many Romanised locals and ex-soldiers residing their in safety until the man upset Boudicca.   After that a more Roman approach was adopted.

The comparison between Colchester and Chelmsford intrigued me today.  Chelmsford, the County Town (now City) is boring, however it is clean for the most part and while there are a few dregs walking the streets on the whole it is quite decent.  Colchester on the other hand is at first sight dingy, crowded and features many who appear either disreputable or had great social needs.
I have never seen beggars in Chelmsford but they exist in Colchester.  There are a great number who at first sight would be happy to appear on the 'Jeremy Kyle' show, other painted hussies of unclear age look like they have walked out of 'Eastenders' after having received too much make up and clothes clearly too young and too small for their wrinkles.  The nature of the narrow Roman like streets does not help even if it lends more attractiveness to the town than you find in Chelmsford.  Here at least a wide variety of small shops exist, some prospering for a decent time, but a dreich day gives the place a dingy look.
Having said that the area on the other side of the High Street slipping steeply downhill contains many houses going back hundreds of years, or at least newer homes built in similar style, this area known as the 'Dutch Quarter' after the Fleming's and others from France and Flanders escaping Spanish or other oppression in the fifteenth century.  Much of Essex gained from these immigrants, most of whom were weavers or dealers in the wool and cloth trade.  We might benefit from those immigrants arriving today by the way.   
Strangely I prefer the variety of shops in Colchester, many of them and a good selection, but it is a bit in need of a good clean.  Chelmsford has its uses but it is boring, just a big shopping centre and little else.

On the wall of one of those houses I found this and it reminded me of those similar signs once used in days before a fire service.  The householder would insure his house against fire with one company, a sign would be placed on the wall, if a fire broke out he would call the company and men would arrive to save the house.  No sign, no firefighting!  Edinburgh I believe was the first city to introduce a proper fire service, and I am not surprised.

Fire Valentinus!

Interesting isn't it when you see the inside of a house that you pass daily.  The chimney stack is a beaut innit?  Shame it has to come down!  The result of a fire is quite awful and a very expensive repair is now required on two or possibly three, listed buildings.  The water damage alone will take a while to dry out. The man alleged to be responsible has appeared in court today charged with arson. I suspect we will not see him again for some time. 

Today I offer to the pretty young women who frequent this site this bouquet  of roses. Women so perfect as yourselves deserve these.

Today, as if you did not know, is another jumped up commercial money grab known worldwide as 'Valentines Day.'  The History of this one time saint is obscure, there are at least three of them, and you can take your pick as to which was the one given a backhander to start this codswallop.  The whole thing has hung around since the third century or thereabouts making many men guilt riven for not spending enough, spending too much, and no matter what he spends she still blames him and says her mother was right all along!  Why do we keep falling for these commercial led emotional robberies?  Surely men run after their women all the time?  Surely he informs her of his love daily?  Surely he has no need to spend cash because the florist says he will not be getting any if he doesn't?  Cards, flowers, eating out, events, money, holidays, all for a Valentinius we know nothing about, or if he actually existed!  Bah!  I will not fall for that!

Naturally when I wandered downstairs to greet the postwoman it goes without saying that she wandered right past my door offering a multitude of reasons why there were no cards, no flowers, no offers of dates, nowt, nil, zilch NOTHING for you!  It may of course be the lack of a tip at Christmas might still rankle with her.  Whatever I received no cards, again, this year, including the one I sent myself, and have spent the night wandering around restaurants, hanging about the windows holding a large sign saying "Divorced and able to afford TV Football!" In large black letters.  This of course is a lie but it's a giggle innit!

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Fire, Library, Butcher.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ah fame!

    

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Another Maudlin Monday

Before nine this morning the day looked to be full of action as the firemen appeared outside once again dealing, I thought, with the brats setting fire to something on their way to school. Possibly this is part of Michael Gove's (education minister) new curriculum, 'Arson for Beginners.' Usually there are one or two schools set ablaze before the new term although round here we lost one by some sort of fault.  Helpfully the primary kids now travel 14 miles to continue their education!  Once again the authorities were their usual unhelpful selves when enquiries as to what they were doing was concerned. Several who asked were heard to reply, "And you!" before continuing on their way.  

The day darkened when for reasons unknown the lights went out.  The box switched itself off at the mains and once reconnected everything appears OK. Why does electric do this?  Could it be it is preparing for the country running out of power once all the coal fired power stations cease to operate?  Could it be nuclear power stations may once again be built, and guess who will pay, certainly not the power generators!  Even the desperate for love Liberal-Democrats have now agreed the vast number of windmills dumped across the nation cannot supply our needs, as if we didn't know this forty years ago, and they have accepted nuclear is required in spite of the problems associated there.  

The day has once again been terrible.  I am convinced I am suffering a serious disease, unknown to science, that makes me lazy, slothful, shivering, and wake up tired in the mornings.  The bug that first arrived in 1987 may be taking its toll at last.  

I noticed however, between bleary eyes, that Obama is paying for his throwaway 'red line' comment last year.  At the time he said this I got the impression it was 'off the cuff' and he had no idea it would be brought up once again.  When chemical weapons were used, but by whom we don't yet know, he had to take action on this comment or look weak.  With the military machine determined to smash Iran it was inevitable their Syrian adventure would require statements of intent from the president.  The cry was 'Go get 'em,' but his heart was not in this and when the UK population made it so very clear that they would not tolerate 'our boys' in that adventure he saw a way out.  Pass the buck to Congress!  If the UK parliament could stand up and be counted for once then possibly the US could do the same.  However John Kerry, the anti-war veteran, offered 'unbelievably small' attacks while Obama said he 'Didn't do pin-pricks,' showing some confusion.  Confusion also where it was important to stop CW falling into 'wrong hands,' meaning the rebels.  Now however in the 'right hands' it appears to have been used, so who is the right hands today?  Russia possibly, tee hee!  Note nobody asks where the CW comes from, although the UK has sold most of the chemicals required to make them.  The US supplied masses to Saddam when  he was their man fighting the Iranians, but we don;t talk about that, nor the CW held by Israel.  Of course we talk about CW but ignore the routine weapons that are killing the population on both or any side as that is not important just now.
Obama found escape from attacking Syria through his friends in the Soviet Uni oops Russia.  The political nous that enabled them to jump in and obtain a promise from Assad to hand over the CW (to whom?) therefore doing away with the need for missiles.  The Russians have of course won a great victory, celebrated by Assad's men, and put Kerry's ever increasing threats into place. Obama must be relieved that an unpopular war has been avoided, however the Pentagon appears sure that some 75,000 men on the ground are required to remove the hidden (where?) CW.  Where will they come from, how can they do the job in a few months with a civil war, backed by the US friends Saudi Arabia and Quatar, is raging all around?  No-one knows, no-one cares.  As long as we don't get involved we don't care either.  The homeless, the wounded and the dead might have an opinion, but politics is not about them.

As we speak another success for the National Rifle Association at the Washington Navy Yard.  A man with a gun, possibly two men, have opened fire and killed one or two.  It makes me feel safe walking UK streets when I see this!  Guns have their place I suppose, but in the middle of a major city?
   
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I was here today.....

Another epic journey of four miles and 35 chains, and back again!  Wot?  A 'chain' is a measurement used on railways, and in other engineering works, it measures 66 feet, or 22 yards, or 100 links, or 4 rods.  10 chains equal a furlong, 8 furlongs a mile.  Railway distances are measured in miles and chains from the starting station.  Each object, bridge, station etc, is listed as so many miles and chains from the starting point. By inquiring in my book on this railway line I can tell I cycled around this distance.  The doubtful bit is me getting to the line which takes a few minutes.  So today I went a mere 9 miles, almost!  This 'Halt' was added to the railway to encourage passengers during the twenties.  Bus travel was hitting the railway money, which was never strong, and folks walking the half mile from the village would hail the train, climb the steps lowered  by the guard, and go their way. 

D Trevor Towe

How it was done. No doubt 'Health and Safety' would stop this now!

Early morn but the sun was already high and I made several attempts to capture the light rays coming through the gaps in the trees.  The problem was the sun was too bright, something the camera and I are not used to dealing with.  Out of the treeline the sun made everything too bright to capture easily.

The brickwork on Victorian bridges is much admired however every so often a weakness arises.  Possibly this one took cracks from bad weather, rain turning to ice and over time developing cracks that threatened to collapse.  Only one house lies over the bridge, a farm, so what passes can be quite heavy even though the road is only occasionally used.  The repair will hold it up, no doubt for years, and also allow people to pass safely.  However it is not worthy of the original architecture, but it will be cost effective and safe.

Naturally real life returned during Andy Murray becoming the first SCOTTISH Player to win at Wimbledon.  The brats over the road have somehow managed to make something catch fire. Who knows what it was, I could not see for the trees, but these firemen will have a busy time in the sun, there is always someone setting dry haystacks on fire somewhere around here.  Tsk! 

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I Don't Know Either.

The brats at the skatepark, being male, do have a habit doing strange and needless things.  For reasons beyond my comprehension the tree towering over the skatepark has been festooned with trainers.  Whether any individual was contained within them when they made their way onto the tree branches is not known.  This is not the first time such decoration has been used to 'brighten' the area, a while back one tree was furbished with what appeared to be a pack of yellow toilet tissue.  Large streamers hung delicately from the tree, much to the annoyance of the council workmen who had to remove them.  No adolescent was hurt in this operation, also to the annoyance of the council workmen!  

 On the other hand there is little reason to expect youths to behave in a reasonable manner when planning permission, controlled by the council, leads to half demolished buildings such as the one behind. Depending on whom you read planning permission has been agreed for either a dozen houses or a hotel containing eighty bedrooms!  Considering the space will struggle to contain a dozen houses, even at the size they build them today, an eighty bedroom hotel is pushing it!  To make matters worse there will be parking space for about six cars!  However owing to some planning regulations that I fail to comprehend to avoid the planning permission running out a start has to be made on demolishing the old clinic. As the observer not wearing dark glasses and looking the other way will note the building is half demolished. Quite how the brats have not yet managed to set fire to the place is a wonder as they have frequently set many items around here on fire, litter bins, post boxes, old huts, even the skatepark itself had the covering material burnt off!  Yet there the mess that is this building stands, unburnt.  I may do it myself if this goes on much longer.  How much for the land, Price on application, which means too much!  I reckon this may lie derelict until the recession is over.  
 


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Monday Evening

My day was cheered when I came across an old news item concerning my secondary school.  Stupid people claim, for reasons I have never understood, that schooldays are the 'Happiest days of your life!'  I never found this to be the case, nor have many others.  Education I could stomach, well some of it but certainly not the bit concerning 'sums,'  but being locked into Stalagluft XVII I could have done without.  However trawling through the web for some other reason that slips my mind I came across the story of the school fire! This school was begun in 1960 and by 1964 I was frogmarched into it by the city authorities. In the year of our Lord 2010 those same city authorities closed the school and moved the terrorists further down the road and into a new prison camp school building. Naturally this was done as the school closed for the holidays at the beginning of July with the intention of beginning the new school year in the new premises. Now consider, you literary lot, that the area behind the school was the district in which the book of the film 'Trainspotting' began life then you will gather that the residents are not the most intellectual that the 'Athens of the North' has bred.  Within a week or two the school was burning to the ground and the noble gentlemen of the 'fire and rescue service' were attempting to do their duty while also attempting to help the police discover which of the wretches were cutting the hoses as they worked!  Only one feeble 14 year old laddie was held, the other thousand ex-pupils escaped!  I write this to indicate my sadness - at not being there to light a match!




I also had nothing else to write, so that somewhat smug report from last year will have to do.



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