Chilly Market Day

Another storming market day under the grey cloudy sky.  The wind chill made me wish I had worn the cap, the prices of some of the Christmassy stalls made me wish I was a top level footballer, then at least I could afford to but the home made gin.  

I did venture to purchase more Christmas cards for yet more names that appeared.  Do I really know so many people?  I also bought two more Amazon cards, just in case.  I have sent so much cash that next year I will be sending only Gift cards from 'Poundland!'  I also bought a £1 calendar, one of those 'One month to view, appointment calendars' to sit on the desk next to me ensuring I do not miss any birthdays as I have been known to do.  

I do this as if I had the money to cover it!  This, and sitting here with the heating sometimes on!  Is there no end to my callous regard for reality?    

Now I have just watched boring Netherlands defeat the USA, boring and efficient football has been their way since the 60s, I cannot see them end this now  Hopefully Argentina will sort them out in the next round, though they have to get past Australia, which they sadly will do.

Now it's bread and cheese for tea...How the rich live!

Saturday Market

Early this morning, I limped around the town as the stallholders for the Christmas Market set their wares out.  There are two markets, one on Wednesday, one on Saturday, and this has been going on since King John, of ill repute, granted the Bishop of London, who had inherited the land through the Saxon owners will, asked for one.   Some 800 years or so later the market continues, though there are some changes.  

Once a month, in an effort to bring in crowds and resurrect a dying Market, trade stall for 'fancy goods,' beer and gin, burgers and pizza, appear.  On a good day the seats will be filled with guzzling people.

The market is not what it was, at one time we had three fruit and veg stalls operating between the two market days, but now, with great Conservative Council intellect, they have raised the stallholders costs so much that no fruit and veg man now appears.  What is the point of a market without fruit and veg stalls?   Other regulars appear, the fish van, or is he a different man?  The biscuit man, how can he afford it, and the stall with batteries, toys and any cheap plastic thing that sells also continues.  One is left wondering what is going on?

Today however, was the Christmas Market, even though it is still November.  Small trendy stalls operate.  You know the kind of thing, women artists selling their art, home made cheese, chutney, gin, spirits, perfumes, cakes and candles.  Also a variety of expensive items, the type you buy for another at Christmas are on show.  These cover a lot of ground, dogs, women, kids, jewellery, wooden pens and toys, fancy coasters, or plaques with dogs in mind and home made tablet.  That stall I kept well away from, I have few enough teeth left as it is.

These stall are expensive, fancy gin for £36?  These delightful skulls on show, hand made by the artist, one with a brain on clear display, cost £30.  I wanted one for my niece, she has some sick ideas, but the price put me off.  I told the lass I would not pay that, however, I said I would post the pic and let folks know about her.  Someone somewhere will love these, they must do as she is here every month.  

The gray clouds did not disperse, instead as I was heading for home a drizzle began, the sort that ruin life for such stallholders.  Luckily, many people were already out so they could not escape and sought shelter under the stall awnings.  

This type of market does appear to bring people out, whether they are locals I am not sure, it is not a market the townspeople want.  Many miss the fruit and veg stall, being somewhat less romantically inclined than those offering todays luxury items.  

There are of course food and drinks on offer.  Many vans offer beer, Thai food, sausages (they are the 'wurst.') pizza, burgers and almost all fast foods that you like.   No prices were obvious.  I came home to soup and bread...

A Trip to the Barbers.

When people begin to offer me money "For a cup of tea," as I stand vacantly looking into shop windows, I realise it is time for a haircut.  Just as well the beard has not got far or I would be 'moved on' by the constabulary.  That is, if there were any passing by.  The days of the local Bobby have long gone, the police constantly tell us they can reach an incident quicker by car than by having a man walk the streets.  There is indeed truth in this.  However, shoppers in town centres feel more security when a man in uniform passes by occasionally.  This also gives more 'intelligence' regarding the people on the ground when a local copper is on the beat.  I note a nearby town has two 'Special Police officers' who operate on a beat regularly.  This is the type of thing that must be encouraged, as well as asking retired officers to work a couple of days occasionally also.  Many would as this would mean little overtime, much less stress, and quite often successful policing on the cheap.

Being the Wednesday Market the usual collection of stallholders were improving their tans while hoping to improve their wealth.  The sun shone, the clouds floated, and the English perambulated by in a Summer like manner, in spite of the chill in the wind.  Did that chubby lass with almost nothing on atop not notice the breeze?  Did her fat protect her as it does whales and Walrus's?  I am not sure where that comparison came from. 

I looked the other way as I passed the cake stall, wandered through the centre hoping for some action, which did not occur, and hobbled back down the newly laid pedestrianised High Street.  To imagine two way traffic going down here only 50 years ago blows the mind away, especially as buses went two ways also.  At least one photograph shows a 'coming together' at the corner of Sandpit Street, now 'Lane.'  Quite how they extracted the single decker from the corner shop I know not.     

I wandered along, tempted by the coffee shops but not by the bunting displayed everywhere for the monarchs Jubilee.  Small kids on bikes or scooters raced past, first one way then the other, mother seemingly unaware they were in the thoughts of several dodging their travels.  A black Labrador dog waited with the owner outside one shop, rising to greet someone who came out to speak to it, who then passed an item to the boss, and returned inside.  The dog was pleased with any acknowledgement, are they not all like that?  

I turned the corner and entered New Street.  Once this was notorious.  Four public houses stood here, three were renown for their 'entertainment.'  The Three Tuns, also known as 'Little Hell,'  The George Tavern,' also known as 'Great Hell,' and the 'Green Man, this was known to all as 'Perdition!'  It may surprise you to know that the 'Cage,' the town 'Lock up,' much in use until a Police Station was erected, was located at the bottom of this street.  Two 6 ft cells often entertained visitors as much as the pubs.  The 'Three Tuns,' has long been absorbed into other buildings.  'The George long since knocked down and rebuilt as shops and offices, and the 'Green Man' now a house, though I think in fact it is now offices. 

My barber, sorry, Hairdresser, was empty when I arrived.  Being market day he has less customers than usual.  He complained that on market day "...people just come to shop, no-one comes for a haircut!"  As the one man just about to leave was also a pensioner this meant little profit for the Bar.. hairdresser today.  There again, £9:50 is a lot for a haircut, especially when some of his customers have so little hair unlike I.  

but This man likes himself, he is not so keen on me.  Most of his customers are 'Brexiteer' English types, who share his views and predilections.  I must be careful when I speak as a man with a sharp pair of scissors is not a man to argue with when roused.  His desire to speak well of Boris Johnson was indeed a trying time.  However, we agreed that Boris had indeed, "Spat in the face of his voters," and almost agreed he ought to be hung up.  

One thing was clear, Boris spoke for such as he, and I suspect many here.  Boris has touched the English Imperialist heart, he has made them believe he will stop all those black men spoiling 'their' country, and they still believe in him.  This when they know him to be a liar, untrustworthy, unfit for the job, yet many will still support him come election time.

No wonder dictators have long time support.  How  can it be ended?

I stumbled home across the park, greeted by a dog with a ball in its mouth.  It did not want to throw it, the Beagle (?) just wanted to greet me (twice) and hide behind the seat with the ball.  He had no intention of letting me touch his ball!  He gave every evidence of being happy, though finding the heat a bit much.

Thrilled with my popularity, with dogs, I came home to find the Blackbird singing for me.  As I badly concocted a form of lunch he disappeared, his place later taken by the wood pigeon who normally takes that spot.  

After lunch I played with my mobile phone.  I deleted things that were no longer required, attempted to delete a call from the other day and ended up calling a man on holiday in Amsterdam!  I could not work out how to stop the call!  What sort of an idiot designed these things?  Why are they so complicated? The laptop is so much easier to operate, why not the phone?  Bah!  Now, two texts at Amsterdam prices, prices which increased after Brexit, I have no idea how much this has cost us and am afraid to look.  I will hear in a week or so mind...

Spring at Last?

April comes to an end with bright sunshine and chilly wind.  Less chilly than the other day, yet many Englishmen once again, as normal, reveal their intelligence by wearing tee-shirt and shorts early in the day because it is 'warm.'  Normal people do not do this.  Young males certainly, but they are stupid as you know, and merely trying vainly to impress the girls who are ignoring them.  I had normal Spring jumper on under my jacket, a warm Spring does not arrive in Edinburgh so I know how to dress, global warming has not yet made it real Tee-shirt weather in Essex yet either.

 

I meandered across the park, being studiously ignored by the old dear with the wee dog, and cheerily greeted by the probably, retired man as he passed.  People are funny.  In the past folks were happy to greet others, today many do not.  The many newcomers to town have lessened the homespun atmosphere and casual greetings are lessening.  Fear appears more common.  

Maybe of course it is just me...

 

I meandered through the town as the market was getting into gear, ensuring I avoided all the people I wished to avoid.  Naturally, one lay in wait for me.  A feeble excuse and I was off.  This is unusual, normally it is others who avoid me!  I was not in the mood for a man who talks like a woman.  

Some new stalls were to be glanced at, £20 for a bottle of liqueur,  several pounds for cider, and huge amounts for large slices of cake.  I almost hesitated at the stall with a old suitcase full of tat.  This is the type of box I used to love in the museum, you never knew what you might find.  I made use of common sense and left before I wasted a day searching and spending cash.

 

 

Spring may indeed have arrived.  This blackbird was happily singing as I passed, he left when the camera saw him.  Blackbirds singing are a good sign of warmer times.  I hope to hear more of him and his mates.

Sunshine, ISP and Clocks

 

Out came the Spring weather today, encouraging people to pretend the sun was hot and the chilly east wind that was cutting into you as you pass through any shadow did not exist.  I can tell you that exist it did!  I took advantage of the sun but avoided the wind by wandering aimlessly through 'Poundland' and 'B&M,' to find nothing that was useful to me existed today.  Lots of empty shelves in 'B&M,' possibly refilling stock, too mean to pay overnight staff, and changing things also for the Spring sales.

 

 

I meandered through the town, checking the prices on the fancy stalls.  Liquers began at £20, other spirits on show at £35!  Hmmm thought I, another bottle of Tesco sherry at £5:50 for me.  Ignoring the overpriced slabs of chocolate cake and the cheese stall, both of which I am supposed to avoid, I pressed on hopeful for something interesting.

I found it!  

My ISP, 'Plusnet,' is running out in June and an offer I almost took is on the table.  However, in the market a man is selling faster Broadband, not just 'Fibre Broadband,' but 'Full Fibre,' meaning not just from the copper wire to your door but full fibre from the green box.  The speed improvement is as impressive as the price increase.  Plusnet have slowed my speed from 65 to around 50, it is running at 53:06 tonight, which is good enough for me, however, sometimes 'Sky football' which I get via 'Now TV' on the laptop fades badly for no good reason.  The BBC manage OK, as do ITV but SKY are cheapskates.  Plusnet did not inform me the rate was slowing, nor did they charge me less for this delight.

Therefore this is interesting and new, indeed encouraged by the council as so many people around here, especially businesses out in remote areas where people often work from their big expensive cottage homes, are not happy with the speeds.  This sounds a good idea but all the companies sound good, it is the little things they forget to mention that go wrong.  Soon I will contact my great nephew, the telephone engineer, and take his advice before I go ahead and choose the wrong one.

 

Tonight the clocks go forward once again.  When I wake at 6 in the morning it will actually be 7 am.  The sun will be up, the chill will fill the air, many will spend much time in the morning changing every clock in the house, bar one, the one they need to be correct!  I will begin tonight and hope not to miss one.  I have no idea why I have so many clocks, but there is plenty when change time arrives.

This will lead to outrage in the 'Daily Mail,' and 'Daily Express.'  One of their favourite gripes is changing clocks.  They grumble that it affects them in the south of England but only benefits those in the north of Scotland, and their inbuilt xenophobic racism rises once again. Often the grumble is about being bossed by the EU to follow 'Berlin time,' this does not go down well.  Brexit has removed this grumble, so another must be found, I wonder what it will be?  

Does it really affect us so badly the gutter press can make use of it?  Well no, not really.  The only problem is turning up at church one hour late, as most of us have done at some time, and that may not be so bad after all...

 

  

Wet Market Day

So excited to be out in the rain I took my wee camera for a spin.  The real need was for bread and milk but I wandered into town in the rain to find the market almost deserted.  I then remembered that after Christmas many market stall holders take a holiday in the sun, probably Hawaii at their prices, at this time off year.  And add in the rain falling all day, and quite strong it was at that, only the Car advertising driving lessons and one cake stall arrived to seek cash from a very small congregation.  

I strolled through a near empty Tesco, half the checkouts empty, no customers queuing for long anywhere.  Cupboards maybe still full after restock but weather keeping folks in, I obtained a few things, congratulated the lass on not charging me as much as they usually do, and hobbled home in the wet. 

 

I suspect when the pubs open, mostly to watch football as it is English Cup day again, then many more will rise and shine.  Difficult to tell how many shops had remained shut, though most were open.  

Because my diet has been er, slack over the Christmas period I kept away from the cake stall.  His prices also enabled me to keep my distance but I doubt he made a fortune today.  

 

 

I was too early for the museum this morning, this is a shame as they have advertised a sale with 70% off!  I always told her the prices were too high!  Later in the week I will pop in and seek next years Christmas presents...

For now, it's football time.

 

Market Day Clouds

 

The morning being gray, cloud covering the land and dampness covering the pavements, it is no surprise to see Englishmen out early dressed in T-shirts and shorts.  One lass was making use of tinted sunglasses, not because of bad eyes I note.  What is the matter with these people?  This happens every year, the sun goes in, the temperature drops and the English dress as if on holiday in Majorca!  Had any of these individuals gone to the Arctic for a cruise I suspect they would dress in similar fashion simply because they see the sun shining.  All that fast melting white stuff would possibly not register with them.

The council have spent much time publicising the 'Saturday Market,' and the wide variety of stalls on show.  This happens several times a year in an effort, somewhat vainly, to re-establish the market in a market town.  The sheep and cattle no longer fill the Market space and instead we have on show today the usual fruit and veg, sweets as in picture, and dresses, among other regulars.  The new 'special' stalls sell overpriced cake, candles, smelly stuff and a wide variety of items aimed at women who have too much time and money to waste.  Even the Dinosaurs on show in the shopping centre did not endear me to them, too small for the phone camera to see.  The kids however, including one brain damaged man in a  wheelchair, enjoyed the Pterodactyl eating his hat.  

Interesting to note the many pizza, beer, and fast food stalls did not appear this time, have they gone bust I wonder?  Not that I care, I canny afford them!

Blethering Sunday

Being the new month I had to wash today.  This is helpful as I did dust yesterday and you can imagine what stour was created by such an action!  The first free day from English Lock Down was expected to cause trouble, now news so far, and not having Facebook I now miss out on local gossip re Saturday night happenings.  For myself I made it to Tesco by 7:30 on Saturday morning to avoid the crowds and noticed a lot more stalls being slowly erected in the market.  They expected crowds I see.
It made me wonder about the stall holders.  For years now these people have had the enormous effort of erecting tables of some form, then slowly unpacking their goods for display, followed by a days trading, followed by an enormous effort to pack the leftovers into boxes and vans and going home.  Often they do this five or six days a week, I ask myself is it worth the effort?  The fish man of course has the right answer, he has a van, drops the back end into a shelf, and provides his customers with a view of the goods and an easy display and repacking and off we go.  Clearly an early start in the morning, like the fruit men at 2 am, but the van makes life so much easier.  As for the handling of several tables, dozens of boxes, often alone or just two men, to me this is hard work and much better becoming a postman.  

The sight of Boris clapping for the NHS was not one that produced a thankful response in me.  The man responsible for 25,000 deaths dumped on care homes with no PPE or testing resulting in many carers dying applauding the dead does not inspire gratitude.  It is to be hoped a proper court of law can be persuaded to inquire as to the justice or lack of it all.  Chances of that are small however the law being what it is.  'Support your NHS, Don't vote Tory.'

While some queued outside pubs many in this town were more careful how they stood in line.  People avoided one another, keeping 6ft apart whatever the PM says, and still many are very fearful of this virus.  I await the 'second wave' like many others.
Barbers shops were open, six men at least outside of those I passed later on yesterday.  I require an urgent haircut but will wait until the desperate have been attended to first.  I suspect the prices have increased to make up for 4 months lost wages.  There appears to be a Dullux dog in this house, the place is covered in white hairs that have appeared everywhere.

Wednesday Warble

Woken by the news at 3 minutes past 8 am I rose ready to face a day full of adventure and excitement.  I have so far been somewhat disappointed in the day.  Grey clouds overhead until now, no post coming through the door, no aircraft overhead either, however the traffic has increased somewhat.  I wonder if the Lock Down has reached a stage where people are beginning to rebel and seeking to travel at any excuse, just to be out of the house?  Today, being Market Day, brings people out to the market, which has only one fish van and one fruit and veg stall at the moment.  Otherwise it is queue at the supermarkets and the butchers.  Actually two 'health food' shops are open, if you can afford the prices.  Habit brings people out but for what?  It is almost 11:30  am and I have so far done nothing, the dust is beginning to lie on me as I type, maybe I ought to move more?  There again if I dust, clean, wash and all the rest of it the whole process requires the same work in a few days time.  Surely it is better to leave it all until next week and do it then, when the new month begins?  Only a woman would fuss...

Such timing!  With PMQs approaching Boris manages to avoid this by finding a new baby, this time admitting he is the father.  She managed to hide it well, was it induced or just another publicity stunt that will actually have no foundation whatsoever, like the 'Nightingale Hospital?'
Here we have the media gushing over this baby, unlike the seven (or is it eight) he ignores or who do not wish anything to do with him, let alone those aborted and murdered just for his lazy sake.  Now we are supposed to gush over this stunt and watch as Boris avoids responsibility for answering questions in the House.  Is he off for today or for two weeks?  Will he run away like the coward he is for longer?  Tony Blair was instructed by his awful wife to take months off when their child arrived.  Tony pointed out he was PM and therefore it was not possible to run from such a job, Boris appears to have a different view on things.
Am I longing for a return to Tony Blair and his 'obey the US' policies?  No, but recently I have wished he was back, I have even wished Theresa and Thatcher were back in power, at least they led from the front, even if they were wrong.
Carrie thanked the NHS staff, but which hospital?  Was it really NHS?  Does this child really exist?  Carrie of course is a friend of the Right Wing peoples.  She has contacts with the Elliott's and those Right Wing nutjobs in the US who now provide staff to run this nation, Dominic Cummings amongst them.  She is no innocent wee girl.

Lock Down Saturday Market

The bustling Saturday market, one fruit and veg stall, one van selling fish, that is the result of Lock Down.  Even the Tesco queue is sparse.  The town is hiding.

The Bustling High Street.  Four people in view, two others pass by, rather close I thought, and a handful wait outside 'Iceland,' six feet apart.  I was glad I had visited the butcher earlier in the week, there were two customers today and I didn't wish to wait.

In Edwardian days the scene to the left was very different.  Then the area was filled with cattle or sheep on this day, the public houses, three of them in the area to our right alone, filled with farmers and their men lunching, arguing and buying and selling.  Today Tesco dominate.  Beyond the Old Town Hall lay a 'Fair Field' where the Fair would arrive annually generating much pleasure and much money.  Before the war a Cinema opened and found favour with the populace.

 
Having dragged myself across the park, dog walkers and a child or two with mum, and around the town I made my way home through the crowds.  It was interesting how people kept a good distance from me, interesting also that when a party came close the expectation in their eyes was for me to move, not them!   The other person owns the pavement even if there are so few around! 

  
Almost opposite me stands this 'Arts & Crafts' house.  This is very much in keeping with many other such houses along the main road.  These were the offerings of the Courtaulds who built them for their workers.  The man who got this must have been quite high up in the ranks.  All feature red brick interspersed with blue and Tudor like chimneys above.   The Courtaulds built houses, offered doctors, schools and even hospitals to the towns around.  All such buildings are still in very good condition and still occupied.  

 
The rest of the time is spent looking out the window wishing I had a dog to walk when the sun shone.  Someone else could feed them.   

Empty Market, Bad Weather and English Losers.

Not long after eight this morning I left Sainsburys and wandered through the town, today being Market Day I wanted to see what pap was on offer.  As you can see nothing was on offer!  The Wednesday fruit stall was out on a Saturday but the two Saturday fruit stalls were not.  A fish van could be seen in the usual spot but nothing else.
I wandered around the corner to find the town quiet, even at that time Saturday is busy, and no stalls to be found.  Not even the van with the Key cutting man was there.  All had taken the day off because of the threatened weather.
A couple of years ago, you may remember, bad weather attacked the nation, the press and many others were upset that they had not been warned.  In fact there was little to be done, weather forecasts had spoken of problems and these had been greater than imagined.  Today, with a months rain falling occasionally in a day, 'Yellow Warnings' are being posted for the slightest hint of poor weather.  We are under one now.  Winds of 40 miles an hour accompanied by rain showers were to blow us away, knock down trees, houses and scaffolding and kill us all.  It has not happened.  Certainly high winds have passed through here, 20 - 25 mph I would guess, and reports elsewhere of occasional gusts of much higher winds have been heard, the disaster foretold however has as yet not revealed itself.
I think we have moved away from caution into a world of neurosis.  Storms are now given silly names like Nigel or Suzanne rather than just 'Storms.'  'Yellow Warnings' are less to warn than to avoid blame when storms arrive.  This could in time lead to complacency as the warnings constantly are overblown, the same people of course will be first to complain!
As we speak the wind is around 15 mph, no rain is falling here and dog walkers watch their charges ruffle the piles of leaves all around the park.  Almost a normal Saturday in November, but with very little of a market to attend.  Tesco and Sainsburys will be happy however.

Most unfortunate.
For much of this week the papers have been filled with fawning items regarding England's win in the Rugby World Cup.  Day after day it has taken up much space in the online press but I suspect this will dwindle somewhat as the day passes by.  I note some have covered the loss well, making it a loss, not a defeat you note, that is the tactic well known to those who read reports of Rangers and Celtic games, and apart from not liking the referee, why? there appears little reason for the English hordes to whimper.  Mind you, I have just noticed the sporting fashion in which the losers refused to wear their Losers medals!  Refusing to wear them like decent folks would do?  How petty!  What does that say about this game, this team and xenophobic Englishmen everywhere?
Anyway, it's only rugby, a game the 'Hooray Henry's' play, not real people...

Up the Old Railway

It was quarter to six in the morning, the sun shone from behind the trees in the east, the wood pigeons sat bleary eyed on the fencing staring into nowhere, I climbed aboard the dirty, ramshackle bike and headed west.
Having filled the tyres with fresh air the day before I was prepared for the journey.  I had not bothered to check the gears, brakes or anything else as I knew all would be well, at first I was wrong, the gears took a while to remember what to do.
I passed through the market centre dodging the early Burger vans setting up for the Saturday Market.  The market is indeed an ancient one beginning in 1199 when the Bishop of London, who had inherited the land from the Theign Athelric, got permission from King John by promising him taxes could be raised this way, John agreed and also agreed to a similar market in Chelmsford which more or less exists today.  The cattle and sheep have been replaced with Burger vans, fruit and veg stalls, and on monthly occasions a variety of items produced in a desperate fashion to reinvigorate the town.  Lowering the rates on shops might help but the council see that as a bad idea.
Peddling down the High Street, another new invention in medieval times, I find the way very rough. A while back the road was relaid using red bricks and looked marvellous, since then buses and vans running over its length have turned it into a glacial like mountains range, cycling is harder here in town than in the old railway.  The road from London crosses Braintree where it meets 'Stane Street' running from Colchester west.  Whether it was the wealth produced by the market or the Bishop deciding to reroute the road in favour of his dwelling on, appropriately, Chapel Hill, is unclear but this new way became the High Street.  Next door to the shop on the corner, the blue fronted one, lies an ancient house which has served as a hotel of sorts for some years.  The owner once told me a wooden pillar in the house had been dated to, I think, 1387 AD, which indicates the ages behind some of the shop fronts.  Most now have Victorian or more recent fronts but behind that lies ancient years and memories.

Slipping, and I mean slipping, past the church which has stood for almost a thousand years, probably on the base of a Saxon wooden edifice, and the houses nearby cover what were Roman graves, I head for the traffic lights on the old London Highway.  I note on old documents they referred to a road as a highway at all times.  Mr MacFarlane would be happy on this once dirt track wandering through the woodlands heading on a pilgrimage to Bury St Edmunds.  Edmund died 869 AD so such pilgrimages continued until Henry VIII removed them in religious zeal, so he could marry again.  A busy road for many years.
At the lights few realise that to our right stood an Iron Age settlement.  In the gardens round about the occasional grave can be found if you dig deep enough, usually Iron Age, occasionally a family argument.  Not wishing to ponder this I continue past the Victorian houses which appeared as wealth grew and farmland was bought out and turned onto the pavement in a bid to beat two early morning joggers (and they needed to jog) to the old railway line, the 'Flitch Way.'

There was of course no real requirement to build this railway line, joining Braintree to Bishops-Stortford, the line from Braintree had connected to the Liverpool Street line since 1848 but the railway company was afraid that their line from London to Cambridge might be compromised by a competitor running from London through Bishops-Stortford to Norwich, the answer was to run a line across their plans and so this line came to be in 1869, after the usual squabbles, usually about money. 
The public came for a while however after the Great War lorries took away much of the freight and charabancs took the public leaving them almost at their doors while the railway line was often a mile from the villages themselves.  By 1952 the last train ceased and twenty years later freight also failed and the rails were removed.  Hard work by the Rangers, that is Essex Rangers who maintain the ground not a football team, has enabled the way to be a perfect rest from town life.  Those who plan to place over 500 hundred houses alongside the way require removal to Afghanistan in many folks opinion.

  
Having spent so much time indoors I was happily surprised by the verdant way as I passed.  The Rangers had maintained the way so well it was a corridor of green all the way up.  Funny how at this time of the year the colours disappear and green and white become the main draw.  Only a handful of colourful plants were noted, most were white flowers. 
The picture shows part of the land that a local developer wishes to change into housing to his advantage.  Several hundred houses could replace this view, much to everyone's disgust.  I can understand the farmer wishing to cash in, farming is not a great winner and Brexit brings no guarantees with it so I understand his wish to sell out.

I think this is the farmer who wishes to sell the land.  The future for such as he is not clear and it is understandable if they will seek other revenue.  I note the horse and the gymkhana material to the side which is new.  Further up there were four young ponies chasing each other around their field happily and I would imagine they will spend time this week carrying little Tabitha and her friends over the jumps.

I must be at least a year or more since I rode up here.  The weather was wonderful as I headed up the slope, only one old lass being overprotective to her ageing dog was to be seen.  The air was filled with the scent of lush foliage and I breathed deeply as I rode.  There again I have to breathe deeply when on the bike, puffing like the wee tank engines that one crawled up the slope at 25 mph overtaking the likes of me with little effort.  It was wonderful to be out this far and being empty with even the bypass traffic lessened at this time there was a kind of silence filled only by bird song and rabbits rustling through the undergrowth.   

While installing the railway and the new station the engineers had to build the new bridge.  The road until this time crossed the line, it still does, but it was felt that it was better a bridge went up to enable people safely to cross and avoid holding up all the horse and carts desperate to rush through their day.  Houses were being built on the other side and a new road was put in.  In keeping with the standards of English villages life, the street through the village was called 'The Street,' so the new street was given the name 'New Road,' a name it keeps to this day.  The road that led to the school, now converted into very expensive housing, retains the name 'School Road.'  This however was far enough for me today so I turned the bike around and slowly trundled down the still quiet slope.

I stopped occasionally on the way down to listen to the birds singing but discovered silence each time.  It appears they were watching me carefully and only sang when I had gone.  The rabbit holes that have existed half way up for as long as I have been here were empty, not that I looked in, but I wondered about the life a rabbit has deep down underground all his life.  Underground in safety I suppose as there were rabbits to be seen but quick to run for it when I passed.

Jemima here had been sitting chomping leaves when I appeared.  Her friend had no hesitation in running but she is either brave or stupid enough to wait until I had taken her picture before she moved.  How do I know this is a she, well can you prove me wrong?

Very few brightly coloured plants now, the rabbits must have been busy.  The predominate colour is now white.  Do the wee beasties prefer this?  Does this attract them at this time of year?

Canny mind what this is called but it was abundant today.  All along the way there was verdant greenery with this plant filling in the spaces.  

The summer weather (is it summer yet?) never fails to surprise.  While I was attempting and failing to capture the sunshine behind me a large black cloud was forming and hiding itself behind the trees.  

At the bridge, where my lack of fitness made me get off and push both ways up the slope leaving me feeling so guilty about this that I refuse to tell Dave in case he cuts me off, I stopped to attempt a picture of the light rainbow.  Not too bad an effort and a rare sight for me.  I did not hang about as I realised another cyclists hint is 'always carry a cap' as rain will fall.  I knew it would not rain and was naturally drookit by the time I got home.  

   
Raindrops falling while the sun shines blindingly ahead of me.  Not a great picture but indicates the rain at this time.  One hundred yards down the road, when I got home, the rain stopped.

A delightful morning, home for three sausages, three egg omelette, and two rolls left from earlier in the week, almost fresh enough.  Then back to bed!  So glad I am fit enough to travel a just a few miles on the bike, hopefully this continues.