Music deer...

I just happened to be wandering about the graveyard at the rear of the Congregational church this afternoon when I spied this deer at the far side.  I thought I had caught her leaving a mark, but if you look closely, she is giving birth.  Considering this was what she was doing, I remained at a distance taking a few shots, it is unusual to see such a deer in these parts, and watched.  Roebuck deer, those with a loud doglike bark, have been around for years, but this looks more like the Bambi type to me.  I wandered a few feet away and when I returned she and whatever she had with her had gone.

 

I had ventured quietly into the graveyard as it is usually quiet and if you stand still long enough nature moves about.  In fact, a squirrel came running around the corner, stopped suddenly, looked up at me and hastened back the way he had come.  However, he and a couple of magpies were playing about at the far side and I managed to catch this shot of one.  I'm not sure if he noticed me.

 

I had wandered over to the park, as opposed to having a snooze after lunch, because a Skateboard activity was on today.  Naturally, the Punk Band, and I mean 'Punk,' played right outside my house!  Next week, the environment men will get a wee note from me!  

Deep Purple, Cream, Jimi Hendrix, and AC/DC had music along with the noise, that's what made them great!  Each track was different, inventive, had a purpose.  This lot had one note, and a very loud not at that, and a loud, if you excuse the word, singer at the front.  At no time did we notice any words.

Anyway, most of the kids enjoyed it, the man from the Essex Fire Brigade stand informed me of his two paracetamol tablets after this group finished, and much more action occurred, in an organised way later.

By six pm the music, by this time 'rave' music, that is music with a needlessly deep base and little else, finished, now we have peace.

Grave Thoughts

Working my way down the new Twitter stream this morning it struck me how many people have died.  Now this is not new, people have been dying since people began, in case you did not notice, and sadly, one day we will join them.  It is a thing to be noticed that there are more dead than there are living in this world, and the number of the dead increases all the time.  

I was becoming more aware of this as people I once watched on TV or listened to on radio have departed.  At my age when musicians from the 'Punk' era are dying it makes me feel old, as they are still in their 60s.  Yet more and more people who became famous, or perhaps infamous, have departed and they are still doing this.  Singers, TV personalities, comedians, footballers, actors, troublemakers, strikers, politicians, good and bad, all pass on.

In my family only two of the original 6 remain, and I keep reminding my sister that she is much older than I. The aunts and uncles have long gone, friends, neighbours, those who make up my past have moved on.  The life I grew up into has long gone, and most people with it.  How strange.

Yet this is life as it has always been.

My mother lived until 94, all her friends went long before her.  Friends and family from her youth have long passed on, their sons and daughters also!  All that remained were memories and some fading photographs.  

Of course, not all we knew have been missed.  Many we saw regularly on TV or in the press ought to have benefited society by going sooner.  A great many harmed society in many ways, politicians, businessmen, celebrities, and spam merchants.  These are not missed by many.  

Others are missed, even if we knew them only from TV programmes, mews headlines, and goal scoring feats at the football.  Many a musician is missed today as there is no one to equal them now.  In the locale there are always people who benefit the area by doing those little jobs, such a 'Lollipop Lady,' escorting kids over busy roads, or by just keeping an eye on disabled or lonely folks.  These are irreplaceable.  

In our town, population around 40,000, each one has a story to tell.  Some well known faces, some well known to the constabulary.  Each known to someone.  How many have lived here since Neolithic times when a handful of people foraged in these then woods with stone implements to survive?  Since the town blossomed 2000 years ago many have walked the lanes, built houses, had lives and loves, fought wars, made babies, traded goods and services, and fought for better conditions.  Holy days were celebrated, as there were few other holidays, some were serfs, others made it big.  While most worked the fields there were others who travelled the world, usually in an army or a boat.  Many went to the new world, others were forced to Botany Bay!  Still other came for the work on offer and their descendants remain.  

When I worked in Maida Vale Hospital at night, I often wondered about the many who had gone before.  The doctors who had created the Neurological studies during the 19th century had left their pictures in the Board Room.  The nurses, passing doctors, porters and other staff were rarely shown this way.  Occasional names arose but many staff had worked for years in the building and at that time they were now forgotten.  Just like we will be in the days ahead.  

Depressing though this may appear it is not so.  This is life as it is.  We all go through it, some more easily than others, and the good news is the bad days that surround us, which are not as bad as they have been or could be for us, will end one day.  The rogues who hamper us will meet their end, the situations that are difficult will soon leave us, and possibly we will see better days yet.

I confess, if it was not for Jesus it could be a depressing time for me.  However, I look forward to better days, and life is already improving as the days indeed are getting longer.  Nothing better than rising with the sun shining in the kitchen window, and the rush hour beginning with the setting sun brightening the skies outside my window.

Cold, Grave Birds

We awoke to temperatures of minus 1c this morning.  The field opposite had a white sheen of frozen dew, the condensation covered the windows, and while the heating was on the moment I opened the rear window I quickly closed it again!  Too much at 7:30 in the morning!  I wished to rise early and search one particular shop before the crowds gather.  I took the long way round and popped into the graveyard behind the old Congregational Church in the hope of some sunshine glinting on the frost.  I was in time for the birds seeking nourishment, though they insisted on flitting around quickly making it difficult to picture them.  This was the best I could manage, the Robin sitting on the end of a grave deciding whether or not to leap down to the cold grass below.  I caught him just as he leapt behind the solid grave.  This looks like one designed to keep graverobbers out.  Before medical science was better organised medical students would acquire bodies for research, often fresh from graves.  The Ghouls would strike at night, which is why some cemeteries employed guards during the dark hours, and dig up the body and sell to a 'doctor.'  Thus many graves have iron fences, brick walls, or solid brick tombs atop them.  Today, these gather ivy and moss and are welcome perches for the birds of the district.

I searched the shop, every shelf, up and down, all along, and back again.  Naturally what I wanted was not on offer.  The only other likely place was not likely either.  Aint life grand?   Instead, I bought chicken bits from the local butcher, and listened while the girl explained to another customer about the lack of turkeys this Christmas.  With 'Bird Flu' present, and an incompetent government dumping Brexit on the nation, the farming world has been suffering badly off late.  "Turkeys," she said, "Might be available, but if so they will cost an arm and a leg!"  This bothers me not, I eat any old thing at Christmas, but for women like the customer this is important, though not important enough to break the bank.  No reason for turkey at Christmas anyway, just be grateful to have something to eat, and heat on which to cook it!

Is this a Rook or a Crow?  Rooks are usually in a group, Crows individual, and the mob we have around here tend to hang around in two's and three's, so I never know if they are Rooks or Crows.  Maybe they do not know this either?  My beautiful, highly intelligent, and nature loving great niece claims it is a Crow, and she should know.  So I am going with that.  While the Robin was dancing about below, this man sat high up in the tree planted at a graveside many years ago.  He appears untroubled by the cold, well fed, and well able to look after himself.  

How about a blurry, cold, Blue Tit?  Lots of them around here.  Clearly such places, usually quiet, are ideal for wildlife.  Small though it is there are many birds, and a squirrel took off as I approached and sped up a tree into the wilderness there.  I suspect the only thing they fear, apart from one another, are the kids coming out of the church hall.  A kinder garden takes place there, and the approach of toddlers and mums would scare anyone.

 

Thursday Cogitation

The tenth of January twenty nineteen, yet another year has almost finished before I have got over Christmas, and that itself appears far in the past!   Staring out into the gloom does not cheer me early in my morning, neither does Radio 3 cheer as it ought this morning, the wrong choice of music for me.  I wish for something more cheery, ah, Brandenburg Concerto's, that's better, I need something cheery as in a minute the news will appear bringing tales of Brexit, squabbles in parliament and little encouraging me to go out and meet the world.  The world itself is gray and chilly, the people wrapped up, gloved and woolly hatted as if the Antarctic was on their minds rather than Tesco, only young girls heading to college dress skimpily to attract the strange creatures attending them, tardily attired males who consider themselves 'trendy' while looking, as all youths do in every generation, a mess.

My mood might be affected by the pile of paper lying beside me.  This contains information regarding the graves in the Bocking End Congregational Church graveyard.  This has been in use so long many of the tombs are now unreadable and others soon to be similar sadly.  However I checked up some of the names and was struck by how much many achieved, at least in child rearing, and how quickly their life had passed, life is much shorter than we realise, and only after fifty do we realise we are next!  The age span of the names is also great, one church minister was serving the church there for nigh on fifty years, greeting many when they entered the world and burying them around him when they left, while others failed to reach five years in their Victorian life.  Many women lie there dying in their twenties and thirties, childbirth often the cause.
Others appear to have been successful in business, a builder married the girl next door, began as a carpenter, became a builder, then a master builder and eventually died in what I presume to be a house he himself built in one of the more prestigious streets.  Today that house will cost well over half a million, possibly much more, it is an outstanding building!  His other buildings will stand all around probably for many years yet.
I sometimes wonder how people survived the physically tough eras in the past.  Walking was the most common form of travel until railways appeared, and then we would not venture far unless we sought a new life or had a public day off.  Medicine was rare, mostly old wives tales and experiments, until the mid Victorian days when ether arrived operations were rather drastic, germs were not discovered until much later and sickness was dangerous.  Hard labour, poor wages, poor prospects, even though life improved as the century came to an end, in comparison to today the opportunities had to be fought for and life was strewn with difficulties.  We have it so much easier and I am aware of many faults and difficulties we all face today. 

Our next exhibition reflects greatly on one of the large businesses that once employed thousands of townsfolks, Crittall Windows.  By the end of the 19th century Courtaulds Mills, Lake and Elliott and Crittall's employed thousands here, all were decent employers and workers happily remained employed at these companies for most of heir working days.  All paid decent wages, good working conditions and social clubs and events.  Crittalls had a large social club almost opposite their extensive factory, now all gone and replaced by housing, and paid good wages with excellent conditions for the time.  During the Great War they replaced men who had gone off to serve with women paying the same wages and prepared 18lb shells for the war.  One of the Crittalls built the small town of 'Silver End' around one of his factories for the workers, social clubs, parks, shops etc all available in a modernistic setting.  While few of the early settlers remain, most must have passed away by now, the village is still clearly well laid out although the benefactor 'feel' may now have long gone.  If only our millionaires today acted like this towards their people?  I suppose they have no contact with workers and therefore have no idea what the workers lives are like, politicians today mostly failing to have ever 'worked' having always been politically minded.  They are indeed far from us all.  The Crittalls however knew their people and this exhibition will show oil paintings made by the company of workers at all levels from shop floor to boardroom.  These were made in the 20's and at least one person I have met has a granddad who is among those portrayed by the artist (whoever he was).  This ought to being in the public, half the town worked there or knew some family member who did, and it will run on until the new year to allow schools a chance to bring the kids in and learn about the towns past.  
No-one paints portraits of their workers today.

 

The Opening

Saturday saw the new exhibition open, 'Postcards & Porcelain' from the district.   A large crowd attended the wine bar opening and an appreciative crowd listened to the fitful speeches with appropriate delight.  The idea is simple, John's collection of postcards cover the area and need exhibited.  This meets the need of many who like to see how the area has change, or not as the case may be.  Sadly few cards were posted or indeed developed during the 50's & 60's, those that were are usually rude ones, and the fashion died somewhat.  The postcards still sells but not as it once did, lack of interest, the internet and laziness take their toll.
When I moved away I was told Mum wants to hear how you are so send a postcard.  Mum wishes to know everything but you wish to write nothing so a postcard is ideal.  My sister used to send me one when she & mum and the kid went somewhere, usually a local or funny card with 'We were here today' scrawled on the back.  I received one featuring a picture of the Andromeda Galaxy one day with that written on the back, I think myself they had been in a museum!

 
Porcelain was used in similar fashion and to a small degree still is, however a wee bit more tatty than before.  There was an amazing assortment of items from teapots to thimbles, tanks and milk jugs available at one time.  There are no people on display but in times past a figure was developed and whoever was making news at the time that figure had his face upon it, even if it looked nothing like him!  Politicians, sportsmen, musicians all were featured often on identical wee men.

  
I arrived home in time for the football results, not that there were many being the international break, and proceeded to watch Scotland draw with Lithuania in a manner similar to other occasions I have witnessed.  I could have warned of this result before the game but did not see the need, proper Scots were surely already aware of the result before it happened.

So I have returned to my investigations of the dead found in Bocking End Churchyard.  Very interesting to see how one can start with a trade, such as joiner, and become a 'Master Builder,' none of those around today, and die in one of he big houses round the corner, it may of course be on eh built himself!  He left little money but a few years later his son certainly did which tells us something but I wonder what.  The man shown was happily minister of the Congregational church but appears to have died suddenly in a hospital in far of Wimbledon, I wonder why?  Such questions are as yet unanswered but do intrigue.

Black Notley Churchyard

I took a mad turn this morning.  No, not the usual type, a real mad turn.  Having ridden the bike on both Saturday and Sunday mornings I decided at 6:30 this Bank Holiday morning to ride the rusting beast up to Black Notley, see some countryside and explore.  It was indeed a mad turn for someone as unused to cycling as I, someone as patently unfit as I, and someone who forgot how steep the hill is!   Who put that hill on Notley Road?  What was the point of that? I am convinced it wasn't there last time I came this way.  However, wheezing like an old man I made it to the top, continued without falling off, turned up Buck Hill, struggled up there and dragged myself over the road into the churchyard.  I considered just lying down as I wondered if it was worth trying to go back home again!
Silence, only the grouse grumbling as I passed them by (Grousing grouse?) a few birds flapping in the distance and an occasional car or van hurrying past on the now distant road.  Sun, silence and occasional birdsong, sounds good to me.  

St Peter & St Paul, Black Notley was begun in the early 1100's by some Norman overlord and it is situated next to Bocking Hall.  This would be built by the new Lord of the Manor at the same time as the church building, although it is possible the Saxons had already created a wooden church on the site.  This solid edifice would impress the peasants in their rough homes.  Interestingly Castle Hedingham is a Norman Mott & Bailey castle built by the De Vere's, clearly to impress and possibly suggesting a fear of rebellion.  What made this Lord happy to build his Hall here without a castle defence?  Possibly his early house was fortified I expect however later works have lost the original building and the present one appears to date from the 15th century but has obviously been upgraded as and when.  The church would have been run by him and his man would have led the services, as long as he obeyed.  Such arrangements were found all over England, much less so in Scotland and is one reason for so many empty redundant English churches today.

As you would expect that by seven in the morning I was looking for gravestones, military ones, which I found and the grave of the family killed by Zeppelin bomb in 1916, which I failed to find.  One grave that cannot be missed however is that belonging to John Ray, the father of natural history.  Born just along the road from the church Joy proved to be an intelligent young man and eventually spent time in Cambridge University.  From his childhood he and his mother, a herbalist, much valued in the days when medicine was so limited, had walked the area and John learned much about the plant life from her at that time.  He then continued this study, classifying plants and researching them.  In time he became a 'fellow' at Cambridge lecturing in Greek, Maths & Humanity.  However he lost his job because he held on to the truths of scripture rather than follow the 'flow' of the day and spent time travelling in Europe and the British Isles during which time his collection of specimens, both botanical and zoological grew.   Much of this learning was expounded in his 1691 book (available at the museum shop for a reasonable fee) "The wisdom of God Manifested in the works of the creation."  His many such works had a great influence on all who followed from him.  Not bad from a wee lad who's father was the village Blacksmith!

There are four WW2 graves in the yard but I doubt these are Black Notley people.  It is likely one of those found there is however the nearby hospital took in many during the war and not all made it back to their homes.  The CWGC site is down and Ancestry does not appear to know this man so I can tell nothing from his stone regarding how he came to be here.  I hope his family got to know, and Glasgow is a long way from here.

The church underwent some degree of renovation in the past and those involved were keen to make their mark in 1680.  Putting a date on a building seems a good idea but for the first fifty years it looks a bit daft.  Such dates only really matter several hundred years down the line.

On the night of March 31st 1916 Braintree suffered heavily. That night Kapitanleutnant Alois Böcker brought his airship ‘Zeppelin L 14’ to Braintree, arriving around eleven in the evening. He dropped a bomb which landed on Number 19 Coronation Avenue. Inside Ann Herbert was killed while asleep in the back bedroom. Her daughter and two children survived even though they crashed down from the first floor to the ground. Next door the chimney collapsed into the house killing the sleeping Denningtons and their three year old niece Ella, while the entire street suffered concussion damage from the explosion. (Taken with permission from 'Into Battle' available at the Museum shop)
The Denningtons and their niece were buried in Black Notley but I could not identify the grave.  
The small graveyard reflects much of the village.  Most down the years would be buried here and the population was small, with few being able to afford gravestones the vast majority over the years would have a paupers grave, somewhere at the back of the church grounds.  Most churchyards would be the same but I wonder how many ended up in those unmarked graves? 

The modern manner of commemoration for those cremated is rather more caring I note.  Many churchyards now include such a remembrance, cheaper for those who have lost someone and a place to remember also.

Trying to be clever I attempted to picture the John Ray grave through the doorway but failed miserably, twice!  The window is a little like my own, it needs cleaning!  On the way out a sound heard in the distance came very close.  A young couple walking their three big gray dogs came past.  The dogs were keen to have me for breakfast but being well controlled we bade one another good morning, the dogs rather too loudly for me, and I hastened the other way.

At this time of the year there are many taking the early morning balloon flights across the county.  Two were seen today, offering Champagne Breakfasts and occasional tree top hitting.  With Harvest having been mostly completed there are plenty of emergency landing grounds available if required.

There will be a heck of a bang if he hits those wires!

This is the house John Ray lived in while writing his many books and other works.  It is just as well he lived here as it says 'John Ray Cottage' on the gate outside so he had little choice in the matter.  His studies and his writing continued in spite of ill health and having a family to bring up.  The road outside, then a mere dirt track in summer and a mud bath in winter, now offers the usual local madmen plenty of opportunity to kill themselves as they race past at all hours of the day and night.  One reason I went there today was the Bank Holiday which meant few were out on the roads bar those who had to be.  A nice little cottage still in spite of the traffic, thankfully hidden by a tree or two, but probably costing a buyer around half a million today.  

I suspect the small garden in John's day was full of flowers and herbs recommended by his mother.  These would be alongside vegetables to help feed the family.  John did have two other famous local men as friends, Benjamin Allen and Samuel Dale, both local worthies who participated in the running of the town and other organisations.  One told the story of how he went to London and while there one of his patients went to the other for medical advice, he died!  On hearing if this the first thoughtfully said "It served him right for not waiting for me."  Ah friends, who needs them?

John Ray showing himself to the world.  This type of decoration is very much an Essex thing.  It has been done elsewhere but a great many aged houses in the locale have a variety of such decoration. 

I came across this on the way home, what an annoying sign to offer a cyclist who is wondering if his legs can get him home.  He is not too concerned about breaking the speed limit, he fears he may be breaking his bones or his bike chain first.  30 MPH indeed, I canny do that downhill on a ski slope!

Hot Sunshine!

Standing outside the museum door yesterday attempting to drag people in off the street I was surprised to discover the sunshine and even more surprised to discover just how hot it was!  The temperature reached 23% and that is 73% in English!  As we were so quiet, well I was the other one was talking a great deal, I escaped several times to feel heat upon me that did not come from some sort of radiator.
Today, having only important things to do, I cast them aside and at almost half past ten wandered over to the public gardens and sat there exposing my nipples to the hot sunshine for half an hour.  As you can expect several young ladies came my way, what...?  Oh!  Well have it your own way then.
This is the first time I have done that for a short eternity, indeed I almost took my shirt off completely but as it happens in my life clouds began to cover the sun.  The temperature rises and soon afterwards in this country thunderstorms appear, yesterday masses elsewhere but none so far over me.  Such a change for us to enjoy this and hopefully it will last a while.

  
I did have an interesting query yesterday about the Savills and after leaving the museum trekked all the way over the road into the Congregational church graveyard to look for a dead woman.  She was not there.  This little tomb collected many of the family together but appeared full by 1885.  My woman died in 1915 and far from here so I knew it would be a wasted trip but one has to look hasn't one?  Somewhat crumbling now and overgrown as at this time of year graveyards are untended to allow the beasties to live off the grasses and flowers that abound the structure also looks as if it will fall apart one day.  This was once a well to do family, farmers, soldiers and even one who became captain of the HMS 'Hampshire' during WW1.  He it was we were researching, or at least his wife who died before him.  He himself went down in the ship in 1916 when it struck a mine during a storm.  I was left wondering what the various bodies here would think about their tomb?  Would they not expect someone from the family to care?  Indeed if any remain in this area are they concerned with their forefathers?  So many graves over a hundred years old and I wonder if anyone knows or cares who these people are?  Would you visit graves of the long lost relatives?

    
The museum has a little garden.  Four square brick blocks inhabited by a variety of flowers all tended by a volunteer from the Organic Garden world.  She is very careful about what goes into her plants and each year produces some fantastic results.  So successful she raised funds by selling young plants a few weeks ago to eager gardeners instructing them on the organic manner of tending them.

One day I will train these guys to stand still while I take their picture.  One day....
I now sit here, skin somewhat burning, as my delicate white flab is not used to sunshine.  If I remember correctly the last time I was sunning myself it was 1984 but I could be wrong, I often am.  I wonder if this big yellow thing will hang around for a while?

Friday Off!

The grumpy chauffeur put the vehicle into gear and moved off.  We were on a journey to a far away land on the edge of that place where dragons live. Twenty minutes later, after rushing up to each white line, traffic signal or bus stop the bus let me off at the correct stop, misery guts mumbling to himself as he went.  
I made my way in the warm sunshine (not a phrase found often in these pages) towards the church called St Mary with St Leonard passing as I did so one or two interesting old dwellings one of which had an interesting old builder standing there staring at the scaffolding on which he was supposed to be working.
Like almost all Essex churches this one goes back over a thousand years.  The basic structure has changed greatly since it began but a mass of Roman bricks can be found among the flint filled walls reflecting the huge Roman villa or villas that once stood here.  Such buildings abound round here and I was told that Roman items are constantly being found by farmers and others.  
It is likely that a wooden Saxon church stood here at the time the Normans arrived probably built on the space used for worship of pagan gods before conversion.  Certainly the Normans would change the landscape by erecting strong stone or flint churches to indicate their presence and that they were not merely passing through.  This has been a successful design as a huge number of such churches can be found here.  Even though much renovation occurs through the years the early work is often clear enough to see.
However being on the edge of a big city the church door was firmly shut against passing bandits.  This is a shame as few can afford to have a guard on duty all day and light fingered folks abound.  So I wandered about the large churchyard drawing stares from passing dogwalkers.  The path leads to fields where the animals are taken daily and many were seen wandering about, all on leads in the churchyard.

    
Naturally my eye looks for the white CWGC stones that stand over all war dead men.  One here actually died in 1951 so it will be interesting to know about him if that becomes possible.  Only one woman with a dog passed by almost greeting me with a smile but not quite managing this and I did manage to avoid the chap in red wandering about pointing ostentatiously at the stones and muttering things.  Moving to the other stone evaded the possibility of conversation although this may not have been in his mind.  Sad to say I am not sure what was.  He did drive away the fat pheasant and his maid I noted at the far side and they had vanished by the time I got over there.   

 While many churches possess Roman bricks I have never seen so many as here.  This was just one section and others could be seen marking the end of the original Norman building, now of course extended but leaving the Red bricks in place.  It is thought the Saxons were forced to carry these from some distance away and from this a story grew that originally the church was to be built in one place but dragons would come out at night and move the stones to where the church now sits.  This may be the work of an ancestor of a tabloid journalist who originated it of course.

The abundance of blossom and little flowers, blue and yellow that abound at the moment is brilliant. These do not always come out properly with me as the light fools my camera, it is not used to sunshine, but I love to see these flowers often growing wild by the roadsides around here.  It makes Spring a marvellous sight.  

Having wandered around I took a few pictures and once I have looked again at them you will get to see all 98.
What?...oh! 

Wasting Away on the Laptop

Having spent much of the weekend watching the Scottish Cup semi finals and wasting much emotion on them at that by Sunday afternoon I was in need of fresh air and sunshine.  I strolled through the gardens talking to the pretty girls who flocked around me (oh yes they did!) and eventually landed up in the Congregational churches graveyard. 
There, you may be surprised to know, were no young ladies waiting for me, I at least was surprised.  The use of this ground for burials I suspect this has gone on since the late 1700's but the oldest stones are worn and it is not possible to make out details.  Early 19th century abound but maybe by then tombstones were in fashion and money available.  The Puritan work ethic ensured many of those found here came from reasonably well of backgrounds and the fear of grave robbers, the 'Ghouls,' led to many a huge block of stone being erected over the grave.  I suspect a wee bit of pride and position may also have helped here. 
The yard has many of those who once worshipped in this place including two of the preachers themselves, one of whom lasted a great many years as the minister.  One day they will all rise one again to be with the maker who died for them.
They had their troubles.  The gravestone above features a lad who died aged eleven, further down is Alfred his brother who managed a mere five months.  His mother was the fathers second wife called Elizabeth. The first wife, Mary, having seen five children from her first marriage die before her, along with her brother father and mother, produced two children for her second husband.  She attempted to produce another five, and all at one go a few years later and by this time she was in her forties however all five died probably within hours of birth.
It may be she ran away as at the moment all I find indicates she appears to live on and move to the USA where she died in 1802.  However her second husband our man John marries again in 1795!  He appears to have been a wealthy farmer so I may have to investigate this as it took a court order to get a divorce in those days.  Who knows what was going through the heads of the people involved.  The second wife by the way was sister to the first!
You think life today is confusing?
The second wife, Mary, produced eleven children, one who died in 1821 buried here and the last, Alfred who lasted five months also here.  How many of the others survived is as yet unknown however the stone contains the name Ruth a 'well beloved wife' who died in 1842 aged 35 indicating this was one of her daughters.  However it shows that the rich and the poor could produce children, indeed required to do so as the kids needed to survive to look after the old folks but all faced great risks while doing so.  This is fine if sufficient money is coming in but even the hard working wealthier families suffered hardships. Bad weather ruined crops and our man John as a farmer could lose heavily this way.  Poorer folks suffered when there was no work to pay them and all suffered ill health and little medicine available to help.  There are so many sicknesses today we cannot cure what chance those in the early eighteen hundreds?
The early registers of birth marriage and death were looked after in local churches, both Anglican and Non Conformist.  The minister lying buried here among his people had the job of filling out the details of every burial and most would be of people he was close to, both young and old.  The wear and tear on his heart must have been hard for him and his wife, she too would know them well.

Well that cheery bit of research got very confusing.  All those folks getting married, breeding like rabbits, losing one or two here and there and marrying again if need be.  The children growing up having similar fortune, not that I have researched them too much - it's getting dark!  
Of course the thing I ought to have been researching is sitting here staring daggers at me, I choose to ignore this.  I must ignore this and indeed all those other jobs that I ought to have done today.  There were quite a lot of those and I suspect I will be busy later this week, unless something comes up.

A Mixed Bag

With the arrival of temporary sunshine I took the opportunity to visit the cemetery and upgrade the fotos on the war memorials.  The newly cut grass gave off a sweet fragrance as I walked across the wide expanse looking for my friends who have lain here so long.  I had permission to do this from the various bodies concerned.  I am happy that I managed to find most but not so happy that the one perfect picture of a colourful robin sitting atop a stone was missed! Typical!
My knees now ache as the exercise, which I need, is much harder than when I was a boy.  It appears almost impossible to get rid of the aches from the muscles after exercise, no wonder folks don't do it. Anyway I walked there and back and stuffed my face afterwards with fattening stuff.  This may have been the wrong option.
  
Nothing else happened.  The election fills the papers, interrupted only by gunmen in various places, and with no football till the weekend I have had to fill the spare time reading Tacitus.  His history may not be quite as we would write today but gives an interesting insight into Rome in the first century.  A while back I looked at the emperors for the first 300 years and only about seven or eight actually died normally in their beds, the rest died by poison, sword or pillows over the head.  The Emperor had amazing powers and few considered changing his role into a more democratic one, it appeared he could kill anyone just because he said so.  This certainly was Caligula and Nero's way and the rest made use of their position to remove troublemakers.  Hmmm maybe this is worth returning to, if I am emperor of course.   
Life in Roman times were very rough.  It is difficult to understand how such life could be endured yet we see similar around us much of the time.  ISIS appear keen on a similar style, without the pretend civilisation and empire, and occasionally it rears its head elsewhere, North Korea perhaps. A strong ruler could dictate a decent society, better than ours perhaps but in the end he dies and who knows what kind of man will take over.  In the end a free society means people have to be free to choose, that as the Ashers bakery in Northern Ireland and the Evangelical Preacher in the south coast have discovered does not exist.  They have both been browbeaten for party gain and by the courts at that!  
We need to use our freedom such as it is as it may not last much longer.  Who knows what mess lies ahead and the after effect of the next election will be structurally changing for this nation.  Other events will soon occur to make us worry.  Life is never what we wish it to be.  I would be perfectly happy with a small cottage with a sea view spending my days watching the sun go down as I feed the birdies and with constant sunshine on tap.  I am easily pleased.


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Hard at Work

Here I am hard at work, I am there, I merely collapsed with exhaustion and can be found lying under the table muttering rude words about the Battle of Cambrai!  Six men required, only one finished and August around the corner but I am not panicking!!!!  Add to this I wandered down to the cemetery (it was dead quiet again) to take a few better photographs of a gravestone belonging to a chap who died of disease in 1916.  Information regarding him is arriving and he will be added to our pile so I decided we needed a better photo.  I knew where he lay and went straight there and he had gone!  No sign anywhere of the large cross that stood above him, nothing remained!  This is taking grave robbing too far I thought.  I wandered about for ages but could not find where he had been moved to, cursing my stupidity in not checking the shabby picture I took last year.  Ghouls I decided, had been in during a dark night and nicked him to sell to a medical school somewhere.  Instead I retook pics of other gravestones in the faint hope of improving what I already possessed.  Back home, still before eight o'clock and with the sun shining, I checked the old grubby picture of my man.  Funnily enough he has been moved to a place right behind where I was standing photographing a gravestone.  Bah!

So once again I discover the weighing machine is broken.  It claims I am two pounds short of 16 stone for goodness sake!  Clearly a malfunction.  However as I puffed and struggled up Cemetery Hill this morning as slowly clambered back upstairs it seemed a good idea to lose some of the flab.  So once again I am on a diet.  Once again I am eating healthily, once again it will fail.  But maybe this time I had better make an effort as this fat is killing me!

OK Everybody, Back to Work!

Right, that's it, holidays are over, the kids are back to school tomorrow, you return to work, unless you are in Australasia where you are already sitting on a bus heading for the destination longing to be back enjoying the high life. Others will emote that depression later in the next 24 hours.  I also look to struggling out in the morning as being Tuesday I will be attending the folks at the museum.  Now the school hols are over we will not have a thousand bairns wandering around leaving glitter all over the floor, drawing rude pictures on the old school blackboard, nor putting sticky fingers on glass cases.  We will have adults doing that instead!  Of course soon after lunch I will be back home full of ideas to forget in the following days, and probably asleep and dreaming of delights unknown for a wee while.

You are I am aware sick to the teeth of my preoccupation with dead soldiers, so let me shake your molars once again.  Having succeeded in finding Private French, the last man in that cemetery, I today soldiered on in my quest to find the last Great War grave in the main cemetery.  For the umpteenth time I wandered around the dew covered grass, in what was becoming a very warm sun, searching diligently for a man who would not acknowledge my calls. Then today, while wandering fruitlessly in a corner I found him, right under my nose! Several other men are buried nearby and somehow Sergeant Smoothy had hid himself.  Still I found him now and all the local men buried here are identified at last.  

A sad tale indeed lay in front of me.  I suspect Smoothy had been a regular soldier at the outbreak of war and fought his way through some of the bitterest fighting at Ypres, Loos and probably the Somme also.  His Division was demobilised early in 1919 and on a 'first in first out' basis he returned home to his wife and almost two year old son.  However within a few months he developed an appendix problem and died in hospital leaving his widow with the son to look after.  A year later this poor lass suffered again as her three year old only child died and joined her husband in the grave.  The effect must have been traumatic but she herself lived on until 1963 when at 80 years she rejoined her husband at last. Love is a strange thing, she never remarried, possibly because of love, possibly because she was in her thirties also, possibly because the trauma did not allow her to.  How very sad.

Also quite sad is the name on the foot of the fallen crucifix to the side of our man.  I had a quick look but the name is not found on Google.  This couple lived their lives and passed on leaving so little trace even Google cannot find their name anywhere!