Maldon Again

It is not possible to admire blossom unless you have sunshine, this was lacking somewhat as I crossed the park to post another offical document through the council's closed door.   I ventured through the town market early, few around before nine in the morning, bought sherry milk from the store and have remained comatose since.  I am beginning to like it this way.  

Very annoying that the other week I took seevral shots of the 'Yellow' moon and none of them worked.  I used to be able to manipulate the image to give a fair impression of the surface, recently this talent has evaded me and my camera.  I must blame the camera for this, surely it canny be my fault...?

 

 

Several commentated on the Maldon post, (well, two!) and in particular this man Byrhtnoth who led the defence of the nation.  This nation is the one beginning to be called the 'English' nation, though they were 'Saxons,' not 'Angles,' from whom the name derives.  The 'Angles' were found from the Forth to the HUmber, so why did 'Saxons' on the south east coast become 'English?'  Typical England, steal from others and call it your own.

The Scots at this time were busy building hospitals, schools, and benefiting others by spreading Good News and care worldwide...

Here, for those interested, is my previous post from way back, regarding the 'Battle of Maldon.' 

 

A Memory Post

Today is another boring day.  The highlight was taking the rubbish down for collection tomorrow and eating a bad lunch.  This comprised a (reduced price) veggie lunch which claimed to be a 'Turkey Wheat Protein' thing.  Having cooked it, been scared by the noise of the alarm that I forgot was on the oven, and chewed my way through this 'wheaten' mass, I came to the conclusion that it was in fact bread!  This I reckoned because of the word 'Wheat.'  Take wheat, mix with various things, add nuts, cook forever, and wonder why you did not just make a thick sandwich?  'Thick' was a word going through my mind.  Maybe I ought to read the labels better rather than just look at the price?

Anyway, here is an old picture of what was once a thriving port called Maldon.  A few years since I was there last, and I kind of miss being by the sea, even if it is just this little estuary.  Ships did sail far from here in times past, a great many of the Barges sailing up the Thames to London carrying various goods, often agricultural to London, other goods in return.  Huge loads often on the barges but only two men usually operating the vessel.  

Like Maldon the two railway museums will have been missing visitors.  This very evocative view of the water tower at the Colne Valley Railway reminds me off a good day there before Covid.  Quite quiet that day so it was possible to get around with little trouble.  A trip on the DMU was included, though we did not go far, and plenty to see for a museum with so little space.  I like that sort of museum.

 

When in Colchester one time I came upon this school.  It had a very attractive 1920's type building (possibly earlier) and above the doors there were signs indicating for whom the doors belonged.  We had nothing like this on our 1932 primary, though we were segregated into boys and girls, and today sadly the kids are mixed together at all times.  I disagree with this as male and female are made differently, boys and girls need to play with their own kind and this forced mixing is not good.  Even if they were separated on say, Tuesday and Thursday only, this would enable them to develop much better.  

The results of present day cohesion are all around us, boys who think they are girls, girls who think they are boys.  Confusion reigns in many young minds rather than being allowed to be what you are made.  Good grief that gives enough problems anyway, why did women teachers insist on this as it does no-one any good.

 

How many of you still have one of these lying around the house?  That is, hidden in a cupboard, unsused and with nothing to add it on to.  I have one in a cupboard, I have records, mostly scratched, and possibly ruined by the cold weather.  No way of playing them now.  However, many people are buying such records, money can be made, but I am not parting with mine...

Now I'm Not One to Complain...

During today I have had the 'Tour de France' on in the background so I can keep an eye on these cyclists powering up steep gradients faster than I could drive a Ferrari down them.  Today they streamed into the hill country while gathering clouds soon began to surround them as they climbed into the 'mountains.'  All the while two of the ITV people kept up a running commentary of the action (Cycling surely? - ed?).  There is in the TV world (TV being a device to show pictures) a preoccupation with filling the screen with words in case the viewer was unable to distinguish a cyclist from an ancient Abbey or Castle seen rising majestically in the background.  Now background information is indeed useful but sometimes silence while watching the men slogging along is useful also, this gives our ears a rest.
However what annoys me came at the end.  The leader, he with the 'Yellow Jersey' was one Chris Broome, an Englishman, therefore it was clear that in the eyes of the commentators he alone was what mattered at the end of this tough uphill race.
He flopped!
There was of course passing reference to the young man who actually won the race but only one man mattered - the Englishman!  For a moment I began to wonder if anyone else took part!  It is a recurring theme in any sport that the English commentators only see one man/side their own.  Now all commentators have a support for their side in any game and sometimes when they win a major trophy it can be seen as excusable, rarely is this the case in England.
We note by the way that at least one woman has mentioned Andy Murray going out of Wimbledon by informing us the 'Scotsman has gone home' whereas when he was in the tournament he remained 'British!'  Tennis hopes then rested on a wee English girl who soon lost to a very experienced opponent and know doubt has become Irish or Welsh or whatever now.  
The cycling world has done this for years, Chris Broad who now commentates was another hero for a while and there have been others.  No matter who wins the 'Tour' this year only one man will be centre of the ITV world and you know his name...

The degradation of sin bares its fruit....... 

Cards...

This, the second card to have arrived, reflects somewhat on the sender in my opinion!
Each year we exchange expensive gifts, this year I sent one of those small tubes of coffee costing about 20 pence, this is the reply!  A card designed for those who send large cheques to their family and friends arrives and as the wording tempted me to believe in a fortune awaiting inside I opened it with much anticipation.  Here is the result, one much used worn penny that may have found a home in her shoe for some considerable time stuck to a picture of an old man and his hat!   I mean really!
In times past I have received a short length of glittering blue cord, a chocolate biscuit and a pencil that had been tied in a knot!  When it comes to spending money on great gifts this lass has not yet started!  I imagine her granddaughter will however be piled with vast amounts of gifts none of which will contain a hat with a penny inside!
And what does she mean by 'old man's hat' anyway...?

More old fotos!
I like this one, it speaks of the sea and journeying to far off places on an adventure of some sort.  I am afraid the 'Brent' never quite managed that as it spent most of its life pulling and pushing boats in the Thames around London Docks.  However the time spent near water is never wasted in my mind especially when there are few about, you can enjoy what views there are, note individuals working on their boats and just enjoy an atmosphere very different form that found in car laden towns.  If I ever find the energy I may rush back to Maldon and see how the Tug is preparing for Christmas.

I noted it again today when wandering about the shops, the stress that comes with Christmas.  People are often grumpy and inconsiderate while shopping, the woman are, men are always thoughtful I find, but at this time of the year when the 'season of goodwill to all men' is in operation I find that 'goodwill' is harder to discover than at any other time.  The lassies at the checkout are a wee bit stressed with the constant flow of people but still happier and more considerate than many customers.  I did find one or two decent folks today and while the checkout girl gossiped with one slow old dear I gossiped with a lass who has lost three stone by avoiding sugar!  Sad to say she had to as diabetes arrived but it goes to show how much we can lose.  I considered the two large Xmas puddings, the ice cream, the three small Xmas puddings and the many sweet things I have to stuff down this Xmas and considered a new diet after this is over.  I started some of it today but will slowly remove the rest over time.  How often have I began a new diet...?
Anyway it is a stressful time but it need not be.  Presents must be bought for important people and folks always leave it too late.  Not all are strapped for cash and buying things as the money comes in many can prepare throughout the year but don't and leave it all to the last minute, not a good idea.
The cheerful music, played over and over again until the folks in the shops speak through gritted teeth, does not help matters.  Much is irrelevant to Christmas anyway, soppy and sentimental but meaningless in regard to Christmas itself.  Most cannot be heard from the hubbub below and interestingly while many sing along few will consider visiting a church carol service and join in.  
Ass it is the phrase 'Goodwill to all men' is incorrect.  I believe it actually reads 'Peace to men of goodwill,'  the word 'peace' probably being 'shalom' and having more than just 'peace' in the meaning.  You can check it out for yourselves.  So many phrases we use are incorrect and far from their original meaning.

Football will be on soon, must fly....

To Battle!

Around the 10th or 11th of August 991 the Vikings landed on Northey Island, a small isle attached to the mainland by a causeway, one that the tides cover twice a day.  The local Saxons under Earl Byrhtnoth assembled on foot, they were told to 'send steeds away,' to face the foe.  The local Thegns such as Aetheric from Braintree collected their men and rode or walked to join the battle.  Their thoughts at that time, of fear, wondering and adventure, would differ in no way from men who in more recent times went off to fight the foe in the defence of their land.

The Saxon King at this time was Aethelred the Unready, a rather unfortunate name for a man threatened by invaders.  However the word 'Unready' is a mistranslation of a word implying rather 'ill advised,' this is even more unfortunate as his name meant 'noble counseled!'   
The counsel of the time regarding Vikings, or as they had now become known 'Danes' was divided between those like Byrhtnoth who believed in fighting them off or those who preferred to buy them off with Gold.  Olaf the Viking leader did not ask which way the wind was blowing he just demanded vast sums of cash to leave the island and Byrhtnoth also hesitated not in offering instead sword and spear tips.  

Having come prepared for battle and with a belief that each man would die at a predestined time the Danes attempted to leave the island by the causeway.  Three men Wulfstan, Aelfhere and Maccus opposed any attempt to cross the narrow bridge.  After a while Olaf asked Byrhtnoth to allow his men to cross to the land for a formal battle and Byrhtnoth agreed.  There is some dispute as to whether this was arrogance on the Saxon leaders part or whether he realised that if he did not do so the Danes would sale elsewhere and cause terror among undefended people.  It must also be remembered that a similar attack in 912 had been beaten off and Byrhtnoth, now in his 68th year, may well have had that battle drummed into his head from childhood.  
Whatever the reason the outnumbered Saxons confronted around 2000 - 4000 Vikings and battle was joined.  While there was some degree of 'honour' in battle it remained a time when aggressive thuggery ruled and swords, spears and battle axes would rain down on various heads and the 'Earl of Queensbury rules' would not be accepted.
In the end the battle was lost, Byrhtnoth lay dead, his head missing but his gold hilted sword still with his body and no doubt many others lay there also.  The result of this battle led later that year to the Saxons paying the vikings in silver, some 3300 kilos of the stuff, the first 'Danegeld' to be paid.  This payment was to continue for many years after this.

There is every chance that our man Aetheric was hurt and hurt badly during this conflict.  That year he willed his lands to two separate Bishops.  He gave most of Braintree to the Bishop of London and Bocking to the Archbishop of Canterbury.  Wisely he ensured they would not receive these lands, which were mostly rural at the time, until his wife had passed away thus ensuring her future.  He died that year, we guess from his wounds.  The Bishops in those days were powerful men, occasionally some of them were actually believers but not usually, and in 1199 the then Bishop obtained a charter for a market in the town thus making the towns fortune.  He also obtained one for Chelmsford which he also ruled, and that to flourished this way.  Obtaining a charter must have been a simple job.  King John was known to be desperate for money after his military failings so the tax he would gain made him eager to allow such developments.  What Aetheric would have said I know not.

    

Still on the Bus Run

Yesterday, dressed for the usual summer weather, I entered the zimmer clattering bus along with the throng from the 'Derby and Joan' club and headed for pleasure.  The weather was not the usual summer weather, it was hot and I went on to lose a couple of pounds of fat, my temper and my keys.  
One way to see the country is by bus.  This will take you through the urban backstreets, local villages and obscure turnings before reaching its destination, places often ignored when following normal routes.  I changed buses at the Superstore knowing I had to wait ten minutes for the bus.  Somewhat surprised at its arriving ten minutes early I got on nonetheless.  I was soon wondering if he was the wrong bus as he went back they way I had come and as I planned an embarrassing escape he then went round the local backstreets picking up a variety of shopping trolleys and zimmer frames to deposit them back at the superstore bus stop where I had got on!  Now he was on time!  While I wondered why he had not just gone round the houses first we continued on the way to the sun.  Again we went through backstreets and villages, sometimes interesting, often boring, the houses from the past being of distinct ages, the newer homes all looking remarkably similar to those seen everywhere else.  Developers clearly have standard plans which are dumped in what they call appropriate spots.  Few such dwellings will be admired in centuries to come.  Slowly but surely we reached our objective, a journey of around 45 minutes which a rich man in a car would have done in 25.

Naturally I headed for the church first as it dominates the crowded High Street, a street far too narrow and busy for my liking.  This church appears to be the only one with a triangular tower, why this should be nobody knows but it is quite interesting to note this.  During the 14th century or thereabouts someone added wall arcades featuring faces, possibly of important locals, saints or kings, into the south aisle of All Saints Church.  Whether this was merely decoration or a memorial of some kind I know not and paying £5 for the guidebook made me look for the door so I have not discovered why.

It's a fancy piece of work whatever the reason for it but today while it stands out it doesn't appear to fit any more in the manner which was intended at the beginning.  A difficult church to modernise and keep all the past glories on show I think but at least it is open for all.

The hostelry next door looks somewhat Georgian to my limited knowledge and has clearly been much used by travellers in times past.  As it has been either sold or updated there is little info regarding the place but I suspect the best people stayed here, I didn't. 

Above the door of the hotel on the left we note this which looks remarkably Papal in design.  I understand All Saints is a bit High Church, that is 'Anglo Catholic' and maybe this is the bar used by the vicar and his mates.  It does not look original to the building.

This part of Essex is all estuary and long trailing rivers.  Not far downstream, just around a bend or two, we begin to find the many yachts that have been parked here for generations.  These are pleasure craft, though what pleasure one gets from fighting through the waves, buffeted left right and centre, to cross the oceans when a boat with an engine would do it just as well and with less bruises I know not.  Still all around this area hundreds of craft lie awaiting these part time sailors.
One or two older ones may even belong to the many that sailed to Dunkirk during the war,a great many left from here that day, to rescue the British Army from France.

Thames barges may be graceful at sea but just a glance at the machinery on board, the mass of ropes, the complicated sails indicates how hard life was for those who once worked these things across the local world.  I suspect however once men got hooked on this way of life it would be difficult to change to any other way.  Plus many journeys would not take the sailor so far from home that he would not be away long.  In summer it would be a good life, very hard in the winter months I reckon.

Several large buildings stand near, this one is either repairing a boat or building one, I didn't bother to ask as I understand too well locals thoughts re tourists and daft questions.  Lots of men could be seen at work on the various craft, whether from upgrading or required repairs was not clear but they all appeared to be the type of man that needs to be building something. 

The back of the yard was full of this sort of stuff and as I wandered around I kept thinking of the rich city types who spend their millions on fancy big yachts.  Sir Philip Green, he who made £500 million before closing down the BHS store is one such.  He has three huge fancy yachts but I could not help thinking this place has more character than any of his boats.  Here real people worked on their barge or ship either for pleasure or employment and these appear to me to be real people in the real world, unlike Green and his kind.  The dirty, mud caked barges, the craft just lying around apparently uncared for, the confused but organised store yards felt like home to me while a yacht like Greens would be a false world, a false world of his that may collapse any time soon.  Sail the Aegean with the likes of Green?  I would rather be in Maldon. 

Sadly my little mind would rather have a preserved Tug like 'Brent' here than a fancy yacht.  This has a character they do not possess.  It is not gleaming and smelling of money as they do, but I reckon the upkeep of this costs a bit, however there is something real about this ex-working London Tug.
The 'Brent' was built, mostly by women, during the war for the Admiralty but arrived to late for the war effort.  As such she was sold to the Port of London Authority and pulled/pushed ships into place, brought lighters to shore and pulled barges around for many years.  She retired in 1970 as the docks were dying and containers were taking over and was bought by a family and used as their 'Tug yacht,' just like I would dream of doing!  The costs however meant eventually she was given to a trust which now hopes to restore her to full working order, gives young and old groups instruction on marine workings, and hopefully attends the 2019 '75th' anniversary of D-Day landings.  Had I not been keen on pushing on I would have tried to get a look aboard.

 
These boys were happy the tide was out as feeding was good today.  A large Cormorant flew by and settled on the water.  Each time I managed to get him in focus the brute dived under to search for fish and rose ten to fifteen yards from where he went under, I never caught him.  Using the 'auto' on the camera does make things easier normally but the autofocus is not very good.  It pics on things and will not let go and usually it picks on the wrong things which leaves good pictures somewhat blurred.  Practice makes perfect so they say.

Travelling home was made easier by the realisation that I could take almost any bus heading north or west therefore the first bus to arrive took me to Colchester via more backstreets, villages (all with a 'Bull' or 'White Hart' prominent) and past many fields where harvest had been gathered or was in the process of being taken in.  There is a refreshment for the mind in looking at green, or gold coloured, fields and I think that townsfolks need to improve their lives by wandering among such places more often.  The Victorians understood this and began planting parks in all towns as green areas rest the mind.  It is rather sad some have been allowed to fade away and others no longer exist.  In spite of avoiding the bee buzzing around my head that thought I was the way out of the bus I enjoyed the trips even though by the time I was heading home I longed for dinner.

I stopped at the museum to check on a lass who had not turned up earlier in the week to discover it was another non event.  While we thought something very serious was occurring she was playing Petanque for her village team!   Bah!  Communication breakdown causes many problems, too many people making decisions and not passing them on.
Then I slogged my way home to seek food, shelter from the sun and a long soak in a lukewarm bath, the water never heats up correctly when it gets too hot during the day.
I couldn't get in, I had dropped my key somewhere, probably two hours away in Maldon!
Panic!  
Nobody has a copy.  One flat is unoccupied, the tenant in the other was working, not other way in.  Ooer missus!  
I contemplated the bus back to Maldon and searching the shop where I may have dropped it.  But did I not take something out the pocket on a bus, and if so which bus?  
Help!
I asked another neighbour on the end flat to phone the landlord forgetting her money goes into the wine and spirit section not her payphone so she could not help.  I knocked on the door of the man round the back but he did not answer being out having a life.  
So nothing for it but to wandered up to the Landlords unhelpful agent.  
I have always dealt with the landlords estate manager directly rather than the agent but the lass who has been there 15 years left and in the few months since then three new people doing her job have passed through.  The third one has been there a week I discovered but I suspect she may not last a month, the landlord is not easy to work for.  
The agent deals with the letting of the property and I always thought the keys were held there.  Up I go, the weariness of the day upon me, and explain the problem.  The agent could not have been less interested, his unhelpfulness shone in his eyes as in his eyes he sells houses and lets flats, takes commission and cares not if you live or die, the word 'service' is a stranger to him.  
He votes Conservative.
The woman who I growled at when showing the nancy boys the flat during the week was there and somewhat more pleasant than I the other day explained she only had flat 5s key.  I left, there was no choice. 
I returned to the museum and got the helpful young lass to search for the landlords number for me, us poor folks don't carry iphones like you, and from there I called the landlord even though I knew the office would be closed as they finish at two.  
A voice answered immediately to my surprise and threw me somewhat, this has never happened before at this time.  I explained the problem and two voices at the other end hummed and hawed and wished I would go away.  In the end I was sent back to the agent to make use of the front door key from flat 5.  I asked the voice to call the agent and warn them I was returning, this the genlte soothing female voice promised to do.
I entered the agent to glaring eyes (another uncaring gent had joined the growling to ensure I was made to feel unwelcome, I wonder if they act as 'bouncers' at local night spots in the evening?) to discover no call had been received.  In fact it turned out a call had been taken by the junior (who will not be junior for long) but she did not understand it and could not explain what it was all about.  The other lass, after some fiddling on her computer, called the landlord and got the authority and plenty of gossip to give me the key.  I then discovered the gay boys were not coming, glaring works it appears, we don't want young folks in this building thanks very much, old divorcees, grumpy old men and quiet folks yes, young folks no!  I also discovered this was the landlords third woman manager and that there may be a viewer for next door this week.  It had better be a suitable one.
I grasped the key tightly in my hand, raced to the nearby keycutter and got a copy, actually I did not know which of the two keys were the main door so got both cut, that might be useful later hee hee, and allowed myself back indoors.  
I returned the originals with a smile which was returned by the woman but not by the two hard working money grabbing men behind her, 'go forth and die' said their eyes, 'you have no money for us.'  I had intended to inform them that the building they use was thought to have been the town's Guildhall in times past and has had various uses in the past hundred years.  However it appeared to me these were not 'history lovers,' I slunk away.
When I first sought accommodation in London there was a chap in Notting Hill who worked from a one roomed office offering common sense advice to people like me and not charging the earth for his service.  Any other agent I dealt with was a chancer!  Money for old rope in many cases and no care if you live or die as long as you pay.  In the 70's this was so bad that even the Tory government of the day at one point amended the law to stop the abuse.  The heart has not changed however.  This small town has eight estate agents!

Today I must get a new Yale Lock for my inner door, spend all day fixing it so that it does not work properly and then, around midnight, go to bed.  Later I will dutifully send the landlord the copy key, and the spare flat 5 one, and next week deposit my spare keys in the locker at the museum!

Now what else can possibly go wrong today?

The Zimmer Express

In spite of feeling rough earlier in the week I needed to get my head out of town so in spite of humming and hawing as to whether I should go or leave it till another day I went wondering if I should stay.  I also debated my jacket.  This is useful for carrying the camera and avoiding me being mistaken for a tourist, which is what I would be.  However they said the sun might shine so I took it thinking it a daft idea, it was!  The sun shone very hot!!!  
I wished to see the estuary, to look out across water, hear and see the chattering birds, feel the wind in my face and breathe the briny.  It was full of kids, about two million of them!  I had hoped they would go elsewhere being Friday and so i didn't wish to be here on a Saturday, the sunshine brought them and mum out.  Bah!  

    
The briney was out!  It was out and still going out when I was there, no chance of a sail on 'Saucy Sue', not much aroma of sea either.  Even the birds were quiet although that was more to do with the kids screaming behind me.  It was however good to be out and about away from the usual, that is a holiday for the mind in itself.

Most likely Saxons began Maldon and it is attested in 913 in the 'Anglo-Saxon Chronicle.'  This was a main port and various artisans resided here and a mint was also in production even into Norman times.  Certainly Vikings attempted to raid in that century and in 991 the last great Saxon v Viking battle took place near here.  'The Domesday Book' recorded 54 dwellings here, around 180 men in 1086.   Still a relatively small town its importance lay in having a member or two in Parliament.  Even up to the second world war my little town came under 'Maldon' when the votes were counted.  

There are three churches going back a thousand years or more, one they became 'Christian' of one sort or another the Saxons were keen on building churches and the Normans turned them all into stone.  This one, All Saints, is now the main parish church as in 1244 this church was united with St Peter's close by.  This was useful in 1704 as the main part of St Peter's fell down!   One Archdeacon Thomas Plume of Rochester had for some time been collecting a library of some 8000 works and took over the ruined building and rebuilt it for his library.  On the bottom floor he created a school with the library above, this building still stands today.  Collecting a lot of books is one thing but 8000 in the 17th century when printing was taking off is quite something.   

Maldon is still a busy quay although I am not sure what half these boats do.  Some of the barges are hired out for various parties, others just appear to sit there!  In times past these graceful sailing vessels wound their way across the waves taking goods to market at home and abroad.  One reason Braintree demanded a railway as soon as the line came near was to transport their goods, both manufactured and agricultural, to Maldon Quay for transport onwards, the station building remains nearby though the line has long gone but I could not get a decent picture because of the present workings nearby.  

Further along  a variety of craft lay in the mud, some obviously working vessels and one or two looking like homes for those who can afford them.  Possibly cheaper than a house and with the option of travel thrown in, especially if you are thrown out.  Quite sure I don't know how they would pay for that mind.  

  
A lot of money lies tied up over the mud but I am not sure what exactly these boys do.  Just up the way lies Heybridge Basin which also contains similar craft which I will show, but that can wait.  This picture was taken through a boat yard, not surprisingly lots of those and appropriate workings can be found here.

 
The boatyard guard was finding the heat somewhat oppressive and wearily made his way into a more shaded area.  His eyes are still alert and ready to pounce mind.

Why is it that at every watering hole everywhere in the country you always find vessels rotting away slowly somewhere in the region?  These were two more, just like those seen earlier, once much used in transporting goods and expensive to buy for the owner they now lie slowly dying and no-one seems to care.  No doubt these have paid their way but they now just lie abandoned.  Incidentally once a year (is it new years day?) there is a race across these mud flats.  One of those British events where a hundred or more, often dressed in various costume, attempt to run across the mud.  Have you ever tried this?  It has become a staple and while there is always a youngish male who finishes first there are many male and female who struggle along for some time.  One or two may still be down there!   

Not just the big boys boats that are left rotting either!  Several lie here and a gew look like this one.

You know you are getting more of this tomorrow once I wake up, although the way I feel tonight I may not wake till near bedtime.  I will tell you the story of the key then also.

Dreaming...

Yonks ago I was down at Maldon wandering along the quay there.  A lovely estuary with a couple of barges and some other boats to be seen.  Most of this part of Essex is low lying estuary  filled with the yachts of the wealthy.  At least you need to be wealthy to buy one of these things and then learn how to drive one.  There have been such craft sheltered around here for generations, indeed one reason the Romans chose Colchester as their home was the ease of boats from Rome trundling up the river and almost into the town.  The yachts are a wee bit more sophisticated today but admirable as they are I refer something with a bit of character and this Tugboat suits me more than an expensive boat.
Now I realise you are indicating somewhat caustically that the last time I was at sea was standing on the old bridge at Leith harbour and even then I felt seasick however I would like to dream about being a sailor!  The crossing off the oceans, on a quiet day that is, would be enjoyable I say.  Slowly cruising past Greek Islands, wandering about the Indian ocean, or viewing the landmass of Australia - from a distance, would be intriguing.  Actually all that on a small cruise ship, with good lunches and competent crew, might be better than slogging around on an old tug.  The only problem with cruise ships as far as I can see would be the other passengers!  
Ho hum, I must go and dream on....

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Maldon Estuary

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Maldon

Yesterday a friend (yes I do have them) and I wandered down to the Blackwater Estuary at Maldon, eventually. It was an excellent place to be for a short time. The sun shone, the sky was blue and he cameras found one or two items to picture. The estuary lays host to a wide selection of vessels. mostly yachts of those rich enough to afford one. We did wonder if they ever got to use them or just sat there, Riviera style, and boasted of their wealth to their neighbours. There were also a number of Thames barges lined up, now used for tourist trips and special events. These were once found carrying the cargo of the day up and down the Thames, reaching up the East Anglian coast. Similar vessels, called 'Wherries,' worked the same route from places like Yarmouth in similar fashion. Few remain now and what was once a hard life of slog and little reward now is seen as fun and relaxation, if you pay for it that is!

Maldon makes sea salt further down. For centuries they have taken the sea, dried it, and left behind natural salt. Now, I hope in a cleaner environment, this trade is carried on with much success. Each year the mud, seen by the boat in the picture, is where the great 'Maldon Mud Race' takes place. A suitable part of the estuary is chosen at low tide and the cheery nutters volunteers, dressed in a wide variety of outfits, attempt to race from one side to the other through the mud. Only in this country could such events take place! I have not volunteered.


In spite of the estuary, and all those round about, being filled with yachts of all sizes and the Thames barges further along, I found this the best vessel there. Somehow this rust bucket tug, no doubt having seen much good service, appealed much more to me than all the other sailing vessels. This somewhat tarnished when the over friendly tug boat cat got under my feet in an attempt to find friends and attempted to hurl me into the Blackwater itself. I suppose it is all the hard work, tacking, rope pulling and such like that puts me off. Just switch on the engine and go, or shout at the engineer down below until she does, that's more my style.

Painted Church

On the way there we first visited this little church at Faistead famous for their wall paintings. Some of these, seen in the link, were done in the 13th century and covered over during the reformation. One large on hangs over the nave, and other small ones are found elsewhere. They were uncovered in 1890 during a renovation and renovated in the thirties. The church contains lots of Roman bricks which show an old villa once stood here, and it always leaves me wondering just how many people have passed through this building, and whatever went before. The people who 'worshipped, some willingly, and the difficulties encountered by the leaders during the reigns of kings and queens who changed from catholic to protestants and back again. Churches are never the peaceful places of myth.

Not only did I enjoy dragging my unfit fat body around, and why do they built towns on hilltops anyway? But I also journeyed with a man who has been a very good friend, and for little return, over many years. It made the day out all the better, especially when he insisted on stopping off for his latest craze, visiting a tea shop! So we sat in the Waterside Tea Rooms and stuffed ourselves with coffee and scone. I recommend this place!

Eye Info

Being a weary soul much of the time these days is bad enough, but at the weekend my eye decided to play up. I thought it was just strain caused by using the PC in poor light, and when natural daylight disappears it always causes a strain for my eyes. However the ache increased on Saturday and I began to see bright crescents where I had not before, and on Sunday a new type of 'floater' appeared across the eye, a dark spidery like thing that was not there before. But
naturally I searched the web, studied carefully all I found but cried myself to sleep handled the situation bravely until I saw the quack doctor this morning. He listened, all the while pinning a notice to his wall,
"Feel free to waste my valuable time"
it read, and he investigated by shining that little light into my eye blinding me as he did so. he muttered and silently fussed, asking relevant questions and refused to doubt my story even though he could see no fault. "Typical," I thought,"I've discovered a new disease!" However he typed away on the PC and gave me a list of hospitals to choose from and fix up an appointment with an opthim, othimp, optham, an eye doctor in December. It least it is not something obviously bad, just some loose matter in the jelly like substance in the eye. A real nuisance when reading as light backgrounds show it up, and I read a lot.

Good job I am not one to complain, or I would rant about it.