Chelmsford.

A moment of madness struck me last night, 'I will go to Chelmsford tomorrow thought I.'  So, just after 9:30 this morning I was hobbling down the slope, in spite of the bad pavements in Station Approach, towards the station.  Here, an attractive young woman gave me the £8:25 tickets along with the patient smile she usually keeps for he granddad.  I noticed on the receipt that they gave me her name, but not her phone number...

The train arrived, the non talking, non smiling passengers boarded silently and soon we left, without announcement, dead on Anglian Railways 10 am service.  A smooth ride in these new 720 trains.  Nothing but other passengers to upset the travelling public, and those two men in red coats checking tickets of course, they upset some.

The announcement came just after we had left the station and were proceeding at 10 miles per hour towards the next.  

At Witham she gave out the cry 'Do not forget to take your luggage, otherwise they may be removed.'  Very fitting announcement for London Overspill Witham I thought to myself.   A couple of Witham locals with pushchairs entered, I noticed the young men getting off give them a glare as he did so.  Here we saw an example of London overspill manners!  Me first, I have a baby!  At Chelmsford I allowed these two women to get off first, then I fell against a polite Asian gent in a suit man as I alight, I apologise and seek the lift, too many stairs in this station.

I walk through the huge indoor market, check cheese stall and butchers, and pass on.  This is one of those 'must see' markets as you never know what will be found there.  All the usual stuff of course and those stalls that have a variety of tat, often the tat you and I find interesting.  I passed on wondering if I could make it to the High Street and back to the market, l was loath to miss the cheese shop.

I walked through the huge expensive shopping centre with all the right shops noting the girls passing through there not noting me.  Have they no 'Specsavers' here?

Anyway, I was becoming desperate for some form of liquid but loath to try these overpriced coffee shops.  There is always a coffee stall in the paved High Street among the stalls.

There were no stalls in the High Street today. Bah!

I limped along, wondering if I was doing the right thing, through Bond Street where all the new expensive shops can be found. I searched John Lewis for kitchen knives, eventually finding them locked in a glass case.  At those prices they will be remaining locked in glass cases for me.

I did NOT go in!

No fool me, I am unable to afford such shops without book vouchers.  So I resisted stoutly.  Several people asked if i was OK as I was shivering somewhat as I passed by the shop.  Anyway, I shivered as I passed by coming back again heading towards the Oxfam Book shop.

Here I accidentally fell into the Oxfam Book Shop, and I mean accidentally.  There is a small 2 inch step at the door which I found by almost landing flat on my face, nobody moved.  I saved my self by damaging a display of I know not what to my right, and stood up to face an elderly woman who peeked round expecting to see me on the floor.  She sounded disappointed.  The volunteer at the cash desk did not look up.

Again I accidently did something, this time I hope wisely.  I bought two bags of 'Café Direct' coffee.  One from Peru and one from Chiapas, Mexico.  I have coffee, which costs me £4 from Sainsburys and £3 from Tesco, but are they worth it.  These bags cost £4:59 each, which I thought expensive, then I realised they contained, they say, 200 grams of coffee, the supermarket stuff contains 100 grams.  Each 100 gram of Oxfam Fairtrade coffee therefore costs ££2:30, much cheaper.  But is it better? It's worth a try.  The volunteer was trying his best, but he does not work there every day I suggest, and the couple of our age who let me go first were friendly while I gathered my goods.  Several people of an over 50 age group were friendly, those under it slightly less so, as you would expect. 

Stumbling like an old man in search of a coffee stall that I could afford I reached M&S.  Upstairs I came across an interesting situation in that to get to 'Menswear,' you must first pass through 'Lingerie.'  Now I passed through easily enough, there was no reason for that security man to insist I moved, anyway I replaced my camera into my pocket and searched the jackets (male).   A summer jacket, made I suspect in Cambodia, was costing £99.  £99!  And they wonder why M&S is not what it was?  I once again passed through the lingerie into the food hall.  Here, I searched for bottled water but by accident found a bottle of wine that suits me.  I searched diligently for red wine, staring at the £55 level, descending to £30, the £20 and finally £6 level at the bottom.  The bottle of Rich and Smooth at £5:75 appeared to be right for me in every way.  

What...?

Anyway, they use self service, and I wanted some loose change so chose a cash option.  Naturally, not having been before it took the lassie next to me to show where to put the cash.  Having dark tills in a dark corner, served by an attractive and bright blonde dressed in black so nobody could find her is not in my view wise.  Eventually I and all the confused Essex ladies of a certain age made it to the door.

On my way out I passed a man with a guitar and amplifier killing several songs very well.  He may well be famous one day but only when Simon & Garfunkel sue him for murdering their work.

Having decided I was going to suffer anyway I continued back to the market.  Spending money is easy I find, even if I do not have any.  The cheese shop beckoned, so I walked past the girls in the shopping centre glaring at the camera I was forcing into their faces, and came out a different exit.  Walking past the proper Oxfam shop I could see from the large window that nothing there enticed me in.  

Now normally, I would sit in the Cathedral when in town but I am not keen these days as this Bishop, a strong candidate for Canterbury, has let the gay mob rule in here, so therefore I have lost interest.

First the butcher for chicken ( 5:99 or 2 for £10) to fill the freezer, then a couple of large cheese chunks £7;50, that will leave me with cholesterol poisoning by Friday, and then hobble slowly, so very slowly up the road to the station, a station that not only appears so far away but it greets you with three steps to climb up!  Three steps after two hours of this?

  

Up lift.

Watch the fat station woman boss people about, give them a stripe and they rule the world.

I sat in the sun for a while knowing my train would be ages yet.  However, possible delays, caused by a troublesome passenger, had delayed the last one so I decided to move to Witham, where I watched my by now very heavy bag. 

This one came in at 12:34 exactly on time.  The trains were running smoothly, the few minutes lost to previous train was made up quickly, and the Anglian Railways staff were good at all times.  I did notice so many more hanging about the Chelmsford Station, a clear clamp down on far dodgers, which is why the corporal and her men were wandering up and down all the platform length, to stop folks jumping in or out.  Good luck jumping out from that height.  

The journey home smooth.

However, climbing up the Arthur's Seat impersonating hill that once was a gentle slope was trying.  It is at moments like this you notice the far from smooth pavements, the areas where tree roots come through, and the loose paving slabs that once I unloaded from lorries at a thousand a time. 

Up the road, up the stairs, hey who put the light out?  Indoors, feet above heart for 10 minutes, eat sausages and cheese, lots of cheese, lots more to come later, sleep for a few minutes, and give thanks for a day out without calling an ambulance.

M&S & EVRI

I began this post days ago.  Life however, as you know can be tiring, and sloth can creep in unexpectedly in this abode.  So, having nothing to say, nothing appears to have happened anywhere, bar the M&S/EVRI incident, there was little purpose in scrawling anything.

Ah yes, M&S/EVRI.  

You see, for reasons of cost, M&S now make use of the couriers with the worst success rate, and lowest reliability in the world!  I comprehend the need to cut costs, and M&S like all others have problems, but so many companies now use EVRI in spite of the missed deliveries, lost goods and total failure of the company to do what it is paid for.  Why?  The loss in missing goods, customer satisfaction and return shoppers must out way any benefits?  

So, anyway I ordered, via a voucher, a belt.  A belt to replace the 'Cowboy' thick brown belt that has held me together for around 45 years.  This has been on my mind for a while, so I took advantage of the voucher, ordered some T-shirts, and then later, as they arrived quickly, I ordered an appropriate, I thought, belt.

M&S told me they had my order.

M&S told me the order was on its way.

M&S told me the courier had the order.

M&S told me it was being delivered today. 

Here I made my first mistake, I believed them.

The EVRI tracking system told me they had the goods, and the goods were 'out for delivery,' expected around 15:30- 16:30.

I waited in.

15:30 came and went.  16:30 came and went.  

I checked the tracker once more.

"Sorry, we cannot deliver today, we will deliver tomorrow." 

Lies!  All lies!

Tomorrow came.

Same messages.

'Out for delivery at such and such a time.

Now, I believe the main sorting office for EVRI is in Harlow, miles away.  This means this driver, who leaves about 10:30 in the morning, arrives here in time for the rush hour.  If he knows the area he avoids small packet drops as he sees no sense in slowly driving through two miles of traffic for one small packet.  So that is why the first delivery failed.

Delivery time came and went.

Check the tracker. 

"Sorry, we cannot deliver today, we will deliver tomorrow." 

More lies, more lies!

Being a long weekend it was never going to come.

I contacted, eventually, after much struggle to find a contact, and left a short sharp message.

A young lady, she says, left an apologetic note and refunded carrier costs, how nice, if I use them again.

Silence.

Nothing happened for days, I lost interest, relying on things to work themselves out.

I relied to young lady again.

Message came back informing me that this is not a sight answered by M&S!

I struggled to find a contact, none came to sight.

So, it was onto Twitter, Musk or no Musk, where I dropped a note publicly there.

An answer came an hour later.

Details exchanged, goods re-ordered, and on Saturday night (6:19pm) they were delivered to my door.

One small packet, that could have gone through the letterbox, was delivered by a young lady pushing it through the letterbox as I tumbled down the stairs.

At last!  Success!

Of course the belt is not as thick, wide, as the old one.  It is black, not brown, I hit the wrong button, but it does fit, and has space for expansion at that!

What a palaver over a small item.  I have the belt, and a few pence on the voucher still, M&S are still far too expensive, but I have the £3:50 refund voucher also.  The belt does not suit my hippy imagination, but it works.

And, today, as I began my repast the bell rung.

A foreign man delivering to the flat around the back, but not unusually with this building, cannot find it.

His English poor, so is mine, I point in direction, he succeeds in finding correct address.  I return to my dinner.

Will EVRI ever give me rest?

Caesaromagus for Waterstones Books.

With the temperature heading towards 90% only a person of limited mental intellectual ability would venture outside in the heat and without a hat.

I caught the 9:56 bus.

Like myself others were trying to figure out which stand to sit at, which n umber bus was ours, and is it really 45 minutes to wait?  It was not.  Our bus arrived on time, racing into the bay.  I did not get a reply from the driver for my cheery good morning, he appeared a bit disgruntled.  Indeed his driving as we headed towards Caesaromagus indicated he was not working from joy and happiness.  However, we arrived safely, and possibly early, and we left the bus, clutching tightly our bus passes.

The heat was indeed hot, but as I was brought up in Edinburgh I am used to the heat.  We had to sit right up close to the fire to avoid frostbite when I was young.

I squeezed my wee camera into my jeans as with the sun being out I saw this as an opportunity to find photographs, of an artistic nature, of all the half dressed females around.  This however, did not turn out to be the spectacular joy I had envisioned.  Indeed, it reflected badly on the Pizza sales in this town.

and hobbled off down the road.  I took the back road to walk through the market, forgetting it was closed on Mondays, and via the Oxfam rag & bone shop I made it to Waterstones.

My delightful Niece and Great Niece had given me a book voucher for lots of money and it was sitting staring at me, so I had to get out and use it.  I clambered upstairs, scoured around, Travel, religion, railways, History, Biography, women, War, and failed to find anything leaping out at me.  In fact I had to make a real effort to find things worth taking home and placing on the ever growing 'To Read' pile.  The effort was worth it, I managed to obtain four books, hobbled slowly downstairs, and paid with the card and the cash on my Waterstones card, leaving me £2:94 on the Waterstones card.  No cash left my hands!  The young lass treated me like she would her granddad who was attempting to work his phone, however, with £2:94 on that card I may have to go back again, or at least try the Camulodunum shop.

No market today, just a coffee shop in the centre walkway and this man loudly revealing why he has not made any money from music.  Mondays are the best time to shop, unless you want the markets, as most people remain indoors.  The musician, and I use that term lightly, was wise enough to sit himself under the tree as a great deal of shade was coming from that.

Making my way past the people who were in town, and all wishing to walk into me, London overspill style, I headed towards M&S.  Now this I did not like the idea off.  For a start they are expensive and aimed at old people, not my smart trendy style.  I also find it difficult to work out how to get back downstairs again once up there.  Hiding the 'Down escalator' behind the women's lingerie which is always in such shops next to Menswear for reasons I have never discovered, does not help.  

Anyway I perused the price tags on shirts, tee shirts, or 'vests' as they insist on calling them, the few jackets on show, jeans which all have the wrong length for me, odd numbers in M&S while I seek an even number length, and of course the overpriced shoes.  

I could justify using my card on.  I was unusually caught in a  shop, with free money and nothing to purchase!  This was unusual.  However, if the free bus still runs I may pop down to the Freeport, or is it Village Outlet shops and see if M&S remain there.

Walking in the hot heat with knees that cried out all the way, I noticed the floodlights high above.  These are of interest for those who follow cricket.  These floodlights mark the Essex Cricket Ground.  There is a smaller ground in Colchester where they sometimes play, found at the bottom of the slope leading up to the castle.  Most games are however played here in Caesaromagus.  Cricketers are of course stupid enough to stand around all day doing nothing in bright and hot sunshine.  Only a really stupid person would wander about in such heat.

A few minutes before the bus I stopped off in the cathedral for a minute, praying for strength to get to the bus.  

This was an error.  ought to have been praying to find the bus!  The 70 I came on, I have discovered, only runs from my stop to here.  However, interspersed with this is the 370, which runs all the way to Camulodunum every hour.  Many are confused by this.  The driver however, was very helpful, explaining to me, and then an old lady (you see how easily old people get confused), the situation as it is.  We waited almost contentedly for the bus to take off.  Eventually, with all the windows open with the smell of bus fumes still filling the air, we headed homewards.  

Tonight is SPAM.  Tonight the boys get together, if the women allow them out.  I may have fallen asleep by then.  Maybe I will ask one of their women to give me a call, just in case...?

What?   oh!