Night Trip in the 80s

Reading a book on rail travel my mind returned to the days of long ago when I regularly caught a late night train from Kings Cross Station to Edinburgh.  I canny mind who informed me of this train, especially as it did not stop in Edinburgh, but I boarded the thing anyway.  When I say it did not stop, what I mean is that it was not meant to stop there officially, this stop did not appear on the timetable, yet stop there it did, at 3 am in the morning.

Once I knew about it I made for it.  I am sure it left about 10 in the evening, but memory says it was 8 pm, however, it was a slow train, not an express, and the luxury about it was the fact that all the coaches were aged corridor coaches.  Indeed, these had long been pushed aside for the open plan coaches normal today, and being made up of small compartments, with very few passengers travelling late at night, it was very comfortable.  The lighting in the compartment could be dimmed, most important for night travel, and once aboard and settled in there was nothing to do but enjoy the dark view of the world outside passing slowly by.  Some things did pass by quickly of course, express passenger trains full of express passengers, goods trains, which we now refer to as 'freight' for some reason, and often we would slow to a dark halt in a loop and wait while something flew past in a hurry.

This was a great experience for young me.  I was never disturbed, except by a man in a peaked cab looking for tickets, and once a group of young soldiers looked in, growled and made their way to the far end and exercising in the Cairngorms.  Good luck to them!  

Travelling at off-peak times was my preference, and this train was off-peak.  The night view from a dimmed compartment gave a differing outlook from the dreary day.  Lights appeared here and there, pausing near a block of houses, some were lit up, most in darkness, an occasion pair of green eyes watching from beneath a hedge, red flashing lights high up in the distance, and passing movements in the opposite direction, lit passenger trains, dark bulky goods ones.  Stations were not quite bare of people.  Well lit, a railwayman walking about here and there, at least in the larger stations such as York.  Anoraks,  sorry, enthusiasts, two far from young men at York in the middle of the night, eagerly recognising a number on one of the coaches.  This appeared to I to be one step too far with train watching.  Travelling at low speed watching the houses in the distance, traffic flowing on major highways, occasional cars on lesser roads.  Shops signs lit up, industrial units with steam from vents and chimneys, with obscure dark shapes looming up and passing by  silently.  

We would arrive at the Waverley on time almost exactly, and once I was confident the train would actually stop and not drop me at Dundee or Aberdeen, I would 'alight' as they say into a near empty station.  Usually two or three at most taxi's would sit there hopefully, a knock on the window, a sleeping driver awake, muttering "Three O'clock," and coming back to life, I would be driven home in style.    

I enjoyed those journeys, soon to be amended with the introduction of a new service, via the west coast for some reason, in open coaches with far too bright lighting.  On one occasion this broke down, almost all passengers were grateful and slumbered happily, none complaining to the guard when he informed us of the problem.  On another trip I was met by an elderly (to me then) Pakistani man who chatted happily about his business in Aberdeen.  He was pleasant, kind and good company, and I did not wish to tell him to leave me alone so I could sleep.  He drifted of somewhere about the midlands and we snoozed uneasily into an Edinburgh dawn.

It is time I got back on a train!

   

More Tuesday Twaddle

As I stepped out towards the Liberal Club last night I was entranced by the summer like evening.  The warmth in the air, the aroma from the grasses in the park, the setting sun, and the evening light.  All marvellous, though the phone camera is not good enough to record this well.  

On  the way home, under a somewhat darker sky, I attempted to catch the light from the Club window.  There is something attractive about light shining in the darkness, almost but not quite swallowed up by it.  

I did not attempt photos today with any device.  It rained, it rained and it rained.  Therefore I took to other objectives, doing two loads of washing, ironing the shirts, I had used the last yesterday evening, and worked through my emails and other items.  The 'to do' list was touched, but not by much!  The house, because of drying washing, now stinks!  It is however warm...

Stupid Man in the Dark Rain

"Only a stupid person goes out into the dark, in the rain.  Especially when there is no need to do so"

You are talking to a stupid person. 

It crossed my mind that as darkness falls shop lights stand out, go take pictures.  Great idea!  There was no rain when this thought came to me.  However, out I went, into the downpour, cheerfully splashing through the puddles that arise on pathways that are supposed to be flat but are anything but.  Crossing the park meant meeting many such puddles and in the morning I suspect many an individual will grumble loudly as they walk the dog before the skies turn to gray.

As the 'rush hour' had ended, much improved by an accident at the roundabout that ceased almost all movement for an hour, much hot air in the atmosphere as people made their very slow way home, as folks had mostly gone and the rain drove others indoors the streets were quite empty.  This was helpful.

  

I could have remained wandering for a while and ventured down to the big church where the local candidates, including Mr Cleverley, a Tory who does not live up to his name but has reached cabinet level, is appearing.  This goes against the grain for Boris who I note has been replaced at Channel 4 TVs Leaders debate by a melting block of ice set in a Conservative Party symbol.  Boris is not keen on meeting people who ask questions.  Andrew Neil at the BBC has interviewed two leaders, a third on the way, but Boris cannot make a date?  His own constituency has not seen him for a while and he refuses to meet at their local debate.  Possibly he ought to take up running, he is good at that.

However there is a good chance he will lose at Uxbridge, maybe he wishes to lose?

  

Listening again to the Beatles 'Rubber Soul' album I was struck by the passing of time.  In 'You won't see me' there is the line 'When I call you up your line's engaged.'  A reminder of the time when to stop an incoming call you took the phone of the hook.  That does not happen today.  I suppose what they call 'voicemail' takes over or just ignoring the call, numbers of callers often displayed these days.  It just made me think how long ago this tremendous album was made.   December 1965 it appeared, long before we were born, yet it remains a great album, I think George claimed it was his favourite.  I read in the dreadful online 'Daily Express' that John thought the 'White Album' best, mostly because Paul disliked it as he was not in charge!  Paul preferred 'Sergeant Peppers' in which he was in charge.  Hmmm... Ringo preferred the second side of 'Abbey Road,' but I am not sure what he thought of the first, "Peace and Love," probably. 

Standing in the shop doorway I was a wee bit tempted to enter the 'Swan' but as it appeared only three people were making use of this recently re-opened pub I deferred.  That spot is where the market began in 1199 with a variety of locals dropping stuff in that area and trying to flog it to one and all.  King John was pleased as he got the taxes from it.  At some time a pub arose, when I cannot discover, but round the back a later addition is dated 1590 but whether it was a pub or a dwelling for one of the rich I know not.  I think myself the house came first and the pub later, it does not look like a success at the moment.

The problem with social media is that it does not go away.  Whereas in times past it was difficult to find something written in a newspaper or said privately in a pub or even at a public meeting, a search of past papers takes time, nothing can be proved in 'pub talk' and things said at meeting are difficult to obtain conclusive evidence about, today anything said can be fund quite easily.  So, daily we are finding candidates from all parties being hounded out because of things said many years ago in the press or on social media, no wonder so many false names abound online!  Boris apparently claiming single mothers produce poor quality children is a case in point, his child, the one he ignores and pretends does not exist, is now all over the social media, but not the Tory press, I wonder why?

I must go and delete my history...

I am not convinced by the sparkling town Christmas lights.  This does not reflect a booming economy.  Or indeed a council or town centre willing to spend money to encourage visitors.

It has been mentioned that Trump is visiting troops in Afghanistan, telling them the Taliban want a deal.  It may never cross his mind what the troops think of his visit, privately.  They can now tell the folks back home they have sat near the President of the United States, many relatives will ask "Where was your gun?"

"TAXI!" 

Time for home, this rain gets everywhere, even in my pockets...

 

So it Continues...

 

It is not enough for movie producers to be attacked by poor hard done by women but we must also continue the attack on these poor soft touch women abused in the house of Commons (no mention of the Lords I note).    

Daily the media spout nonsense about hard done by women and always ignore the fact that women abuse men in similar fashion also.  Once again the man is bad the woman good and this is not questioned.  It appears our PM has found 36 Conservative Members of Parliament, including two cabinet ministers, who have abused, sorry are accused of abusing women in one way or another, no mention of anyone in any other party being accused.  

I found a refreshing item in the 'Online Daily Mail' (Yes I thought it unusual also) where Kathy Gyngell speaks of the many years in parliament where women made use of their bodies to get benefits from men as much as men abused said women.  How refreshing to find an open minded approach in among the hysteria.  This did not stop Harriet Harman exposing the chip on the shoulder she developed as a 13 year old girls school pupil reading 'Spare Rib' magazine.  A magazine my grown up sister dumped.  Men are horrid she says, allow women (e.g. Me!) to control the world. Such comments ignore the bad women in this world, only today we read of female concentration guards who were worse, they say, than the men in those Nazi camps.  Possibly Harriet and her friends never paid attention in school.

Sadly men and women continue to regard one another as they have always done.  A few years of confused feminism will not alter human nature nor stop women using the femininity to get where they wish to go nor men taking advantage of those willing to use what was available.  All that is lacking is honesty on the part of those seeking publicity now, years afterwards and with no regard of aiding other women who may be hurt.

 

I was sitting here last night, head down eyes glued to the screen, when I realised something was amiss.  I found my emotions stirred by loneliness, a touch of fear, there was depression in the air and I wondered why?  Then I realised, it was night time!  It was in fact not long after seven in the evening yet it was dark, curtains closed, light on, heater off because I was too lazy to get up, and the feelings were controlled by the darkness.

This is because until relatively recently the curtains were open and light of whatever sort came in.  Now it was dark early the world becomes a cold place, light opens our hearts and minds, darkness closes them.  It is not surprising to know that in lands where darkness reigns for 24 hours a day people take to alcohol and suffer terrible depressions.  It is no surprise to understand that suicides are less frequent in the 24 hour light than in the dark.

We all suffer that three in the morning attack where we wake still half asleep yet cannot return to slumber and instead fill our minds with dreadful thoughts.  All our failings, fears, worries loom large yet after another couple of hours sleep they dissipate and are forgotten.  Darkness, not even street lights here at that time these days, silence, weariness all add up in the mind at that time.  If however we worked nightshift and woke in the middle of the day would we be depressed I wonder?  On the occasion I worked nights I cannot recall if this is so but it seems likely that light would ease the mind not make things worse.

I must keep a light on tonight and see if I wake with a smile on my face...

I had another one the other day, a 'selfie.'  Not one I took OH No but another one taken by one of the girls.  By another I mean another and another and another!  I cannot imagine taking so many photos of myself when a teenager why do they do it now, especially the females?  Every new hairstyle, and there are too many off them, new outfit, new day, every meal, every small item is put into a 'selfie for the world to see.  I am all in favour of photographs with which to remember the day but really enough!  I don't need to know you now have green hair, I have no wish to see you in the 'guising outfit,'  I certainly don't want pics of your lunch (the same as yesterdays).  

A few decent, sensible photos are all I ask, like my 'selfie' above.  That is all we need, nothing more.

   

Cogitation on Silence and Noise

Late Sunday night and the world feels different.  It does not take long to recognise the reason, it is the resounding silence.  There is no football hullabaloo in front of me, no cars passing by outside, no young girls screaming in the park, no young males impressing them with their noise, there is school tomorrow and all that homework still to do.  There is even an absence of aircraft overhead, no quiet voices of passers-by, no footsteps.  All is still.  

Silence, something we are no longer used to.  Something I notice only when I have no radio or TV blaring, no football in front of me, no music, no sound.  All this silence appears a strange experience to me now.

Once, before the motor car and the radio it was always like this.  Small market towns had their own daily sounds, loud voices were not uncommon then as now especially when the pubs emptied but there were few if any motor vehicles with polluting engines, pollution was the responsibility of factories and they were closed on Sunday nights.  No workmen's carts would trot slowly by however the local gentry might pass in their Brougham on their way home from a free dinner.  On the edge of town animals in the fields might be heard, nocturnal creatures on the hunt, an owl or a few bats and in the country there are always noises nobody comprehends and does not wish to investigate. 

How quiet life could be before the motor car and electronic devices.

Perhaps we avoid life by hiding behind such electronically produced sound and thus fend off the need to think and face the reality of our lives.  Bread and circuses for the many in the modern day.

   

After eight in the morning the contrast is clear.  Already the barking of happy dogs with wagging tails with torpor filled owners following has been heard.  The bread van snarls it pollution spreading diesel 7:5 tonner up to Sainsburys, cars driven by Monday morning blues ridden owners head for work in shop or factory, and soon dragging schoolbags behind them the future of the nation appear slowly making their way to the school Stalag.  By nine the streets are busy, shoppers appear and the sun decides to shine when most folks are in work, isn't that always the way.  On Radio 3 a soprano warbles uninvited and behind me the kettle boils noisily for third, or is it fourth time drowned out by passing white vans rushing into their busy day.  All we need is the police round the corner or the ambulance from up the road to announce their arrival by blare their siren and the day will be complete.

Maybe I ought to go back to bed...?

Going back to bed was a good idea, I heartily recommend it.  In fact I recommend it so much I may return there once I have eaten something for lunch.  

Lunchtime certainly is not quiet.  Next door the builders hammer and bang, lorries back up across the street, cars waiting for builders lorries to move allow me the pleasure of their poor taste in music while they wait, and on top of this I have been back in the BBC iplayer.  This gave me five Radio 3 Essays on the Great War by Sir Hew Strachan a historian of repute.  (Do you ever hear of a historian being called anything else?  They are never referred to as 'dodgy' are they?)  This series is about 'The Long Road to Peace' and well worth a listen.  These fifteen minute programmes suit me as if they get wearisome you can dump them soon enough, I listened to all five.

The noise levels grew also as the street life became busier and the world went about its busy business.  I added to the cacophony by setting aside a few minutes to listen to AC/DC offer us one or two of their melodies, well if 'melodies' is the correct term with AC/DC that is!  Just in case a neighbour was in I used small earphones and now I am not sure I can actually hear the traffic outside as tinnitus appears to last longer than I thought.  

Storm Ophelia has been filling the news today.  This was a hurricane at one time but now is referred to as a mere storm even though it manages to reach over a hundred miles an hour in parts of the Republic of Ireland.  This is not one of the usual left over US hurricanes, Ophelia never moved from the eastern Atlantic and has begun to move north picking up large portions of Sahara sand with it.  This sand is they say much finer than that found elsewhere, whether this is true or not the sky has turned a yellow colour above us this afternoon and in some places a deep red has appeared in the hazy clouds.  The picture is quite close to how it looked at one point and the air is filled with a heavy scent, with fine bits going up the nose I noticed.  As darkness falls the sky changes colour and with the storm heading north the sky will clear by the morning I suspect.  The storm has caused much damage and several people have been injured and a few killed.  Here the sky has changed colour, the trees shiver in the wind and the slow traffic reveals the rush hour at its height.
I may as well go back to bed...

Our Oscars

The early evening was spent surrounded by dolled up lads and lassies for the Volunteer Oscars at the Museum.  This is one of those 'get together' ideas to help us meet those we rarely see, even though one or two could not make it so we didn't see them!
Oscars were awarded for shop work, handyman work, children's work and the like.  Naturally I expected the 'Miserable Git of the Year' award of course but that was not on offer this time, "Not enough competition," I heard someone whisper.  I did get the 'Social Media' Oscar simply for passing on the posts we offer to all on facebook.  I also do things on the laptop at home, sometimes for the museum...

This was a short but enjoyable time and I took lots of pictures of people feigning humility while grasping their award, all well deserved I say.   A few slurps of imitation Champagne and some round things with dead things upon it to go were on offer to please the peoples.  Then, dressed up to the nines. we headed for our next appointment or home to play about with the pictures and fall asleep.
The deep blue sky as I came home was irresistible, this is one shot that I had to try (on AUTO) as the sky was deep blue and the RC church had lights on.  

Dreich Night!

It was a dark and stormy night as I made my weary way homewards from another extra turn at the museum.  The rain pelted down, the wet streets enticing only for pictures of lamplight reflecting thereon.  All was closing for the night bar supermarkets and public houses.  I avoided the pubs but bought bread from Tesco, it was the cheap option.  

The vast sums spent on Christmas lights in the town was well worth it, there is a smattering of them to the top right off the picture.  Such lights have drawn out the crowds as you can see. 

Standing in the rain with two loaves of cheap 'Tiger Bread' in the bag I pondered on those who can afford to stay, eat, and be made welcome in the hotel.  What brings them here?  One at least is a one time resident on holiday visiting his past and his relatives, this is not uncommon, but who are the others?  There is little to see in the town but the Museum and the handsome welcoming staff (but only when I'm on) although many travel around Essex and discover there is indeed a lot to see and it is a county worth visiting, unlike the general impression of the place.

Being too wet to ponder I dripped home to enjoy a supper of cheese and bread with added indigestion.  Then watched football while my head looked for my brain which appears more dead than usual at the moment.  You will note how few cars were around last night at this time, how unusual is this?  Are they scared of the wet?

Back to work tomorrow as she who must be obeyed has a school in and no-one to help when they come into the shop, all 60 of them!  Guess who volunteered!

Duty Done

Having done my duty today, raking in the cash by use of my skilled sales patter and free chocolates, having packed up the residue of the now removed latest exhibition, having done my all and chatted up the girls I made my weary way home.  As the afternoon descended into December gloom I wandered round the corner to the nurse for my second visit having exhausted the pills as ordered.  There she examined my now no longer swollen foot, ran her hand over my calf (that reminded me of something but I canny mind what) and allowed me to go my way almost back to normal.
This pleased me as taking tablets that must be taken on an empty stomach is not easy.  The plan is to leave gaps between eating long enough to please the makers but short enough to ensure you get fed properly.  This is not easy as i found when I discovered my head was not working.  I had got confused and forgot to eat again.  This was a small thing in the medical world just imagine what those taking three or more differing tablets each day must go through.  How glad I am also we still have a NHS in spite of the Tories attempts to ruin it!  This would have cost me a small fortune for two visits and a couple of prescriptions, only the conservative Party could consider the US system worth trying!  Just imagine being seriously ill, just ask Jerry!
On the way back I attempted to take one or two pics with the wee camera of the brighter Xmas lights.  Nothing special in the town but I was happy with this one of the buildings across the park.  The world is a different place at night, once the traffic noise dies down and people run for home.  Of course you do get some funny looks from those that do walk the streets at night but I am used to that in the daytime anyway.  

 

Nothing Happened

Nothing happened again today.  The teeming rain forced the citizens indoors except for the poor souls who had to work outside.  Judging by the buzzing noise for nearby someone was busy chopping trees somewhere in spite of the weather.  The postmen had to work as well as lucky folks driving vans and buses but the majority stayed indoors.  I know this as when the rain eased off around eleven I scuttled up to Sainsburys and found the locals arriving as I left.  Thousands off them rushing out to fill their well stocked cupboards and complain they have nothing to eat or money to spend!  

As the sun hid itself I wandered about trying to capture a red sky but was left with peely wally pink instead.  When I sit here from the window I see glowing red skies yet when I venture out it is always a faded sky that greets me, Bah!  I wandered round as the darkness began and attempted this pic of the back of the town hall and library next door.  One man standing there made clear his thoughts that the round library was not in keeping with the surrounding buildings but it was built anyway!  He was right of course.  In fact as I looked I realised just how much wasted space there is in the building, vast acres of nothingness.  A bit like this blog...

Instead of rebuilding the library in a more suitable form I took a picture of the museum shop in the darkening evening.  It didn't quite work either.  No doubt as I look at the camera I will find settings I should have used for such pictures.  It's fun mind.
Not much else happened, I hope your day was better than mine.