'Source to Sea,' a Walk

Waterstones

Isolated as we are, banned from walking the earth as we wish, and quite simply unable to hike 215 miles alongside a river this book is a good way to get ourselves outside, in comfort.  
The author, a Londoner who lives and works close by the river, decided one day to leave the travel desk at the 'Times' and travel along the river, from 'source to sea,' thus providing himself with a title and some blisters.  Walking from pub to pub, with occasional hotels, for rest spaces he completed the task covering 368 miles in 21 days.  His detours, not always deliberate, added to the length of the journey.
What can be said about a walk by a river?
The early stages cover paths blessed by a wide variety of flowers and wildlife, cattle, horses or sheep appear in fields around, swans and sucks paddle past often silently.  The stopping places and foodstuffs get good coverage, some would say too much but if you follow the trail you will see this as wise advice or warnings.  Old pubs often go back several hundred years, all have their tales of famous or infamous deeds and people, some of them true.  Occasional houses, usually for the very rich, are passed all along the line of the river.  Near the beginning gardens from aged cottages costing a million reach down to the waterline, often with boats at the ready.  Near the ending London apartments cost double that with views of the river front and former warehouses turned into just as expensive flats.  Neither indicate prices we can afford.
From the bird covered countryside London appears, as do industrial estates, lower priced housing and dereliction.  You will note I miss out Reading!  "One does not linger in the neighbourhood of Reading," wrote Jerome K. Jerome, out Tom considers this good advice!
I'm torn with wanting more descriptions of the house, churches and past sights throughout the book while being somewhat bored with the repetitious nature of much of the writing.  It must be difficult taking notes on such a walk and even more difficult to find new ways of describing similar daily experiences.  The fact that so many historical or interesting places, events, situations arise on such a walk along a river that has seen two thousand years of history, more than that we cannot discover much about, means there are several books to be made from such a walk, possibly half a dozen at least all the way along the river.  
I could be being greedy of course.
Eventually, having wandered through London itself, again the contrast between the rich and the poor appears, he snakes his way to the finish a black stone that marks the official end of the river authority and the beginning of the North Sea.  Two stones, one at either end mark the course, one at the sea the first in a dry field!  Later in the year it is wet they say!  From this trickle that cannot be found to the far end the book holds out attention, not least for his honest descriptions of those he meets.  Several bars are to be avoided, some to be looked out for.  
This is the type of book I wish I had written, although it must be said the grammar is better in this book.  However I have not made such a journey in recent years, I am unlikely to make one soon, unless a description of walking early to Tesco will do?  I recommend this book a s worth a look for those who are trapped indoors, like rivers and pub food and have 'spare time' to read...

Holiday Monday

Morning arrived quite early today as it often does.  The early sun inspired me so much that long before eight I was engaged in exercising my knees to a painful level.  The stretching ensured that I had therefore to sit and ache for a while before stuffing myself with peanut butter covered brown (organic) bread before realising this was not the best option.

In an effort to avoid stiffening up I went for a walk down the hill.  Here stand houses dating back to the 13 -1400s.  This one stands close to a similar effort that forms the back end of a house on the corner.  I suspect that these once served workers from the nearby fields or possibly in the many weaver connected trades that flourished down this street.  I also suspect that once these had thatched roofs and were not so dainty as they now appear.  I suspect also they cost less that the vast price they go for today.  
Street Details

Essex houses, made of timber and plaster, often have patterns such as this on the walls sometimes covering the entire wall.  Whether the design has any significance I cannot say having found no information of the houses I pictured.  How long they have been there is also hard to tell.  These building go back several hundred years and have found many uses, Inns, weavers, dyers, various cloth trades (the 'Bays and Says' of the Flanders folk who worked here in the past were famous. No one receiving these goods checked them as they knew they would be correct and they would not be cheated.) and of course one pub remains but the shops have gone with the weavers and their cloth.

   
This fellow and his mate has been gracing the doorway off 'Wentworth House' since the 17th century but the house itself probably began back in the 1400s.  Over the years, as with all the others, it has spread from a mere hall, added rooms, workrooms and then another storey on top and until quite recently was in a mess.  Restoration has given someone an expensive but historical work of art.  

The smaller houses go back a bit also, these have interesting but not always genuine ancient items upon them.  Genuine in age maybe but possibly in some cases recovered from elsewhere.  This is one of three in a row, well decorated, brightly painted and costing a small fortune with a very busy main road outside the window.  Why do people buy there?

My limbs told me to head homeward so I eased my eyes by bathing them in greenery by the river.  This is a well kept spot but someone had chucked some files away at one place.  I was tempted, not to greatly, to jump in and seek my fortune but managed not to.  

Someone has been tending these trees for many years but I know not who.  This was merely a place for the river to overflow (sorry Texas) and now contains recent housing costing just under half a million.  I am sure they all have a  stock of sandbags at the rear nowadays.  

The reflection makes this picture a bit abstract and it takes some looking to understand it.  Lovely and quiet today, no kids yelling, no couples groping, no passers-by,  just the birds and the slow flowing river.  Flowing so slow I thought it had stopped.  Recently there has been a plan to put a number of (expensive) houses across the other side.  This has caused upset and will certainly spoil this walk and the view over the other side.  Money however speaks volumes!

This is what happens when thistles explode!  So be careful when passing them.

Having exercised, walked, eaten and slept I now sit here aching all over wondering why I bothered!  Tomorrow it is museum day and the last week of the holidays.  I expect thousands will come in tomorrow and many mums begin to long for the peace and quiet next week.  I will be longing for it also by lunchtime!
 

Longer Days

The longer days started well.  Wandering up to Sainsbury's for the things forgotten last time out I noted the rising mist against the slowly rising sun.  How lovely to be out there in this weather.  This however was not the attitude of the workmen unloading their vehicles across at the building site.  A more grumpy tendency was noticeable as they heading into the old school they were turning into expensive flats.  I considered smiling but avoided this as unpleasantness in the morning is unwise.

At Sainbury's I obtained lots of things, some of which I went for, and yet again forgot to make use of the reward vouchers, I have about £8 that would have been useful this morning.  I suppose this will be even more useful when January kicks in.  British Gas (overpriced) sent me an email informing me i had won thousands of points on this voucher system.  Hmmm, sounds good.  I was tempted to click on the link to my account but hesitated and went to that through my own link.  Nothing there as yet I noted.  This does appear to be British Gas as they send such things often, it is on an email account in which spam is rare, and my first name is given, however while cheered by a gift I await the points being added (in 10 days) to see if this is genuine.  If not I delete, if it is true then lunch is served!

On a serious note I was kept awake last night by the Police helicopter choosing my bed to hang over for what appeared to be hours.  In fact there was a fire in a nearby street which left two dead and house destroyed.  The cause will be uncovered in due course.
This sad incident has revealed much in the town.  Traffic has been affected, it occurred on a main road, and people have been leaving tributes.  Now traffic problems in these circumstances just have to be borne, the tributes and attitudes revealed do not.  
It was something not done in Scotland, a Presbyterian nation, the leaving of flowers at an accident spot.  To me it still appear 'Romanish' and even worse synthetic.  People die and flowers, teddy bears and gifts arrive but the victims will never see these, why do it?  It is not done for the victims, it is done for the people leaving the gifts.  When incidents happen people grieve and this is good and understandable.  However you do not know these people and in life may have resented them if you did so why do this?  You do this because you ache, not they.  This is not 'Love your neighbour.' 
Photographs of the firemen at work have appeared on the local facebook page.  Many are complaining these ought to be removed.  I object!  Publishing photos shows to us what occurred and those girning appear unable or unwilling to accept reality.  The nation once was renown for the 'Stiff upper lip' and just 'getting on with it,' today we must sentimentalise all events, death, accident, war memorial, you name it.  The minutes silence once rare at football grounds is now compulsory at all events even when the incident is neither local nor connected in any way with the football.  Some events are worldwide but these are few, the death of Brazilian footballers recently was one, but while all mourn these men there is no minute silence for Syria, no mention of the dead in the Congo, no concern for hunger elsewhere.  
The emotion is a false one, limited in scope and spurred on by young folks who cannot face life  with 'tough love' and must live in a soap opera daily.  This cannot be allowed to continue.  We all feel emotion at such times but this needs control.  Once footballers stood silently at a minutes silence, now they must place arms around one another,once we faced life's tragedies now we must emote them.  It is not right!  Compassion does not mean removing hard pictures, it means doing something about it.

As I crossed the roaring cascading water that is the local river I noted a wee beastie running over the traffic cone helpfully planted near his home.  I could not make out what it was but suspect it was a water vole as I canny think what else would live there.  He was well fed mind.  The ducks appeared to ignore him, they were playing football with a large green ball kindly donated by someone, and I thought that this wee burn could be made attractive if the time and money was there.  As it is several trees were removed and houses built.  Above this section a block of flats now stands and the tenants passed me by dreaming of paying off mortgages in the 2030's if they are lucky.

 
For once I have rendered the sun as it was tonight!  As it slipped down behind the crumbling 1960's estate it gave off such a glow that I had to catch it.  The passing public did not notice this great sight, their eyes were on lesser things like Christmas, evening repast or drink!  How often we miss such sights because small things obscure our vision.

What's That in the Distance?

During the second world war (1939-1945 in case you missed it) a mistake was made.  Fear of invasion led to the erection of many 'pill boxes' around the land and those in charge of defence made one little error.  A line of 'pill boxes' and other deterrents were strung across southern England in an attempt to stop any approaching army.  When placed in charge of such defences General Alan Brooke quickly caused this to stop and followed the correct procedure, one later used by Field Marshall Edwin Rommell along the Atlantic coast, which was to make every effort to stop an invader on the beaches so they could not secure and establish a 'bridgehead.'  Therefore he turned attention away from inland and beaches everywhere were crowded by builders busily working out their profits while ladling cement onto little round boxes suitable for two or three machine gun armed men. In the distance while passing wearily home from the crowds in Chelmsford's centre I noted this lump in a field.  At first I thought it was hay bales that farmers often pile up, usually however next to farm buildings, and later realised this was one of the old 'pill box' defences.

On Friday after wandering around the churchyard I came past the field and crossed the path well worn by dog walkers toward the concrete box.  It was clearly well used by the younger generation and the original door long removed for other use and a hole large enough for my bulk to enter had been created.
I have wanted to get inside one of these for eons.  Here I was in the smelly, plastic bottle and other crap littered den, plastic not a substance that has been left by the original users.  This was a mess, the concrete worn and corrugated iron sheets peeling from the wall however it was large enough for me to stand upright and I moved into the separate compartment inside where the rubble made waking difficult and darkness made it hazardous.  

 
The field of view was interesting however and would not have been welcomed by the folks living in the houses over there.  Had an invasion occurred most of the Regular Army would have been placed down at the beachhead and places further inland such as this would have possibly been occupied by Territorials or the 'Home Guard, 'Dad's Army.  How would they feel in this dark place lit by candles or oil lamp probably when confronted by a large German force intent on blowing them up?  It would be a case of hanging on as long as possible before they finally shoved a grenade through the hole and finished you off.

This field slopes down towards the River Chelmer, a small narrow stream at this point and I suspect it often overflows in winter almost up to the 'pill boxes.'  I say 'boxes' as I had not noticed until I got near that there was another tucked away at the bottom of the slope.  Crafty indeed and if the enemy came when crops had risen and were still green this box would be completely hidden until too late. 
In spite of weariness I dragged my bulk across.

 
This smiling face was very different possibly reflecting the constantly changing demands of the War Department (WD) something else that gave the builders much to think about, possibly however they thought more about the great time lag before they actually received any money from the WD!
This was cosier, the wall inside, the door has long gone possibly to use as firewood, and this one is almost untouched.  Behind the blast wall visible inside the door there is nothing but five wee windows opening out over the field and over the river behind.  An excellent position but suicide for anyone occupying this if under fire.  This too was tall enough to stand upright in, little litter was found and looks to me as being almost perfect.

This one does give excellent cover for his mate in the first box and with the 'Home Guard' being trained in their use could it be they fired some sort of projectile by accident into their pals box?  Just asking!  That brings to mind the 'Dad's Army' on the island in the Firth of Forth.  Their job was to fire at enemy aircraft heading towards Rosyth Naval Base and Glasgow further on as well as defend Edinburgh.  However some of the shells were large ones and practice consisted of firing dummy shells out to sea.  On one occasions our heroes managed to fire a large dummy shell into a house in Leith causing considerable damage and irritation.  The residents comments have not been recorded.

From the Firth of Forth to the Chelmer!  A pretty little river here but this area has not been built on and I suspect this is because of midwinter flooding.  Good, this is a pleasant area for those walking dogs or just wanting to commune with creation and I hope this remains like this for some time.

An abundance of this was found by the path as I made my way for the bus, driven by a friendly driver.  Is this 'elderberry' I wonder, as you know I'm not good at plant names.  This type of thing flourishes at this time and the councils have learnt to let it stay until some moaning minnie  grumbles about what it is doing to their coats as they pass.  The beasties must love it and so do I.  Not that I actually eat it you understand.

I noticed this house as I waited for the bus.  The design is typical of Essex.  Small semi detached workers cottages once lived in by farmers labourers and the like.  I note this one has been extended at both ends adding a door one the near end and similar at the other but there an extension, possibly a kitchen has grown on also.  Many similar are found in the area but I wonder if the occupants can put aside the Satellite TV for a while to plant potatoes and cut the grass in the garden? 

Saturday Stroll

I strolled along the murky river bank this lunchtime thinking it would make a change from the usual route.  Recently the council have upgraded the are with tarmac pathways and landscaping the grasslands however as I came in from the far side I noticed they had stopped half way!  What was the point of that?  Halfway down there is a small weir and from then on there is just a dirt path.  As it has been raining for yonks this is a near impassible swamp in places and muggings was trying to slither through here.  My opinion of the council varied with each slide into the mud.  

  
The sign at the bridge warning of either danger or punishment for playing or drowning in the river has as yet not had itself renovated.  Possibly the cash ran out just as they reached the weir and so it has been left to a later years budget.  Under this Tory government and Tory council it will be put back more than ever now.  
Note the sludge like effect of the rain on the water.  So much has slipped into the river with all this rain, the banks are eroding and the weight of water is rushing through at places tearing the banks down as it passes.  This is a small river just imagine what is happening elsewhere?  

 
The locals are car lovers in these parts however I am not so sure about the owner of either of these two.  As I recall they were standing there when I delivered up this road many moons ago and now with new houses built next door they appear to possess this small plot of land all to themselves.  Maybe someone lives within?  I should have knocked.  However it may be the owner is spending some time at Her Majesty's Pleasure in one of those ageing prisons that are so overcrowded we often release murderous thugs early from their sentences.  Possibly they will return one day and be somewhat surprised  that nobody has put some sort of ticket upon them.  These are not the only hulks slowly falling apart, and I don't mean me either.  When I think of it a trip to the inlets where yachts are stored usually reveals several eroding away and one or two well under the water.  Maybe this chap owns a rusting boat also?

The possibility of improving this are to make it an attractive spot in summer will probably never happen while we suffer under George Osborne's 'austerity.'  However even if money was spent the place might still be a wee bit rough.  People pass through from the town to the dwellings on the south side and while dog walkers and eejits with cameras may find pleasure in this it might take a lot more work to make this wee part of the town acceptable to all.  I think it may be worth it in the long run.  

My day was excellent and this was topped of by watching the Heart of Midlothian defeat the miserable Aberdeen by one goal to nil in the Scottish Cup.  The arrogance of the Dons in thinking they are bigger club than the Heart of Midlothian!  This was shown today when the one goal ought to have been joined by seven or eight more.  Onwards to the next round and dubious refereeing from the Glasgow mob.

Day Out

So my day of rest (most days) was ruined by visiting the Record Office.  The 10:26 bus left right on time at 10:32 but made it to the bus station dead on time.  Then the problems began.  Do I walk to the right along the long canal path or go through town and cut through the big shop?  Town it is, this is quicker and I always go for the quick route.  
Once through the big shop, past the unsmiling painted faces at the perfume counter, avoiding 'women's shows' and squirming at the prices on the men's jackets I came out almost on top of the path by the canal.  My poor knees and I limped along the path past the huge shopping centre, over the bridge and then the doubts began.  Once I had gone miles along I found a board with a map and details on it.  No one had told me that while the River Cam runs through Chelmsford the River Chelmer does also!  No-one told me that turning left took me to nowhere and turning right took me to the Record Office!  My knees muttered loudly under their breath as they took me all the way back, over the bridge and to a place where I could cut through to the back entrance of the said Record Office.  If I have not lost several pounds in weight by tomorrow I will wish to know why!

Passing through town I stopped of for a moment in the cathedral.  This is a nice place to sit and ponder, unless some event is going on, and I always stop of for a moment.  Much altered in recent years it has not replaced the Victorian stained glass windows and here is one of St Cedd, the first Bishop of the East Saxons.  Not that I can remember much about him, nor that he would look anything like the Victorian ideal, indeed he would not have fitted in well with them I doubt, but he was a strong efficient man in his day.  The sun was not bright enough to reveal the depth of colour in the window.

I spent hours in the Records Office, mostly looking through incident reports of WW2 bombs and V1 and the like that fell in this district.  These reveal the confusion when an explosion of some kind occurs in the dark 'over there somewhere.'  This has to be investigated, damage or casualties reported, and few if any of these men were professional.  However they dealt with bomb damage, individuals made homeless or wounded, and a hundred other events including being shot at by passing German aircraft.  
I was left with something of the lifestyle the man in the street endured as each day he risked passing aircraft, bullets and bombs while going about his everyday business.  These were the men at home, often with family members away on service, 'carrying on' and 'muddling through' while this great event erupted around them.  We are lucky we do not have that situation daily as they had.  
Naturally the bits I really wished to read about came late on when I had lost my mind by reading all the comments and struggling through a mass of carbon backed paper.  I will haven to go back next week and look at some of these again.  

Naturally the bus home met with the 'rush hour,' streams of red lights ahead of us, yellow ones to either side, and roundabout after roundabout hindering our advance to home.  Now home, fed badly and watered just as badly I ache all over, await the pains in the knee keeping me awake, and worse still there is no football on the TV!  
Bah!
  
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Research Day

One of my bosses made me drag my weary and clearly far from awake body down to the museum by 9 am this morning as we were off to the Essex Record Office for a rake through the files.  She naturally was late!  However we eventually got going and withing thirty or so minutes we were confronted with the 'You canny do that here!' rules.  Having obtained our ticket without which research is not allowed we proceeded to dump our jackets, our cameras, any food, any water, all bags, in the lockers provided. Signing in we were allowed through the locked doors and instructed by the capable, knowledgeable and indeed friendly staff.  The only problem we found, apart from my ignorance, was a technical glitch which made many of the computers used for searching go doolally!  

We found a couple of diaries written during the Great War, the idea being to discover local information. The one I read, written during 1916, revealed the middle class small village lifestyle. That is when we could read the writing!  A nice woman who appeared to spend her time going 'into town' (there is only two streets there) or visiting Mrs this and that, spending time at the 'Red X' (but what did she do?), occasionally feeding poor children or discussing collecting coal for the poor, or taking a Turkish Bath (where?).  In between visiting the vicarage for tea an occasional mention of the war passes by.  The Battle of the Somme is referred to as 'Great news of the British offensive' obviously this was announced during church on the Sunday morning.  Apart from a Mr Low worried about his wounded son no other reference appears.  I'm told the other diary, for 1918, was similar.  This woman went on with her life, hindered by an occasional Zeppelin passing by, but not considering the war important enough to mention in her diary.  Was this 'stiff upper lip' or upper class living I wonder?  I can tell you that by the time I reached the 31st of December I was glad to dump her!  I don't even remember her name.  

We trawled through one or two other things but I think we are heading in the wrong direction.  I certainly did deciding that one bundle of letters were irrelevant to our search, naturally once we returned them we realised how wrong I was!  Bah!  Now I know how the thing works I will go back and read the old newspapers and the bits of info between the lies and propaganda.

Unable to take pictures inside the building I was glad the canal/river outside offered a small taste of countryside.  Admittedly behind me stood a car park laid out on the remnants of what once was most probably a warehouse of some sort. Dereliction abounds as the town improves itself, however it will be some time before the car park is lost I reckon.  I'm glad as I suspect the newer housing nearby will replace whatever stood here thus bringing crowds flocking along the riverside, ruining the peace!  Bah! Lovely to have a day out doing something useful, next time I am reduced to utilising the bus pass!  Bah!   

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Fotos

Sloth and apathy have joined together to stop me offering a review of a book received at Christmas. You may cry 'Boo! Hiss,' at this point if you wish, what?.....oh!  It will turn up one day I tell thee!  So as the football is about to start I find I have no time to write and instead offer a foto of Edinburgh.  This was taken yonks ago and I find the conjunction of a Zebra grazing with the wild Pentlands looming (faintly) in the background somewhat incongruous myself.   You will know Scotias capital has lots of Zebras running around. People are always crossing them.  You will understand that I spent a wee while going through the old albums this afternoon.  This saved prevented me from working on the seven projects I ought to have been working on but allowed me to remember just how many poor fotos I have hidden away.  It is now unusual to finger actual prints, especially Matt ones, and as they have been encased in plastic for so long many show signs of wear, a wee bit like me.  Not that I have ever been encased in plastic....

So many fotos taken who knows when!  I think I took this up the Highlands some years ago but it may indeed be the Ochil Hills as seen from Edinburgh.  I asked the sheep to pose for me, I know I shouted "Hey ewe, over here," but they ignored me and kept chomping.  I suppose one hill looks like another to a 'townie.'   I canny mind taking it but in those days I dwelt in the centre of London and wide open spaces were a strange delight, indeed a few days of such views remain delightful, not many hills round here. 

The Thames about twenty five years ago.  I think that is Wapping over there and all those warehouses are high priced flats.  You can guess how much they cost!  Not very exciting but I like this sort of view. That afternoon was spent wandering along the south bank far from the tourist spots, finding those rough back streets which often contain historical treasures and one or two strange people.  Pleasure boats awaiting tourists and the occasional barge awaiting use. Just forty years ago all this was crowded with boats from across the globe carrying cargo one way or the other. Hundreds of 'lighters,' also and thousands of men nicking things as fast as they can assisting the economic development of the nation. The river is vastly cleaner than it was in those far off days, a huge effort to clean it, the loss of shipping leaving oil all help the improvement.  Had I been less lazy I could have kicked stones around the banks of the river and discovered odds and ends going back years, possibly to and beyond the Romans. If you know what you are looking for artifacts are constantly being dug up by man and tide, all you need is a wee bit knowledge and history is yours.  Of course you might just find sewage!   

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Sunshine

A shot of village England from the train as we passed at high speed today.  A shot a second or so earlier would have given a slightly better view, however the big houses, the church, and the green represent the usual English village that tourists love.  Whether the pub remains open or whether actually living there is good is another matter.  The TV programmes often show folks looking for a small, quiet village to retire to.  They talk of community spirit, a local friendly pubs, and give the impression they can fit in anywhere.  Maybe so but do the villagers take to them I wonder?  Some folks live forty years in a village and are still reckoned as outsiders by those born there. I suspect if you have money and do not upset the routine you may be alright, but it could be too cosy for some.  Occasionally incomers are known to demand the church bell stops ringing as they came to the country for quiet, some even demand local chickens or cattle in fields are removed.  That is not how to endear oneself to the locals.  One or two houses are available however £6-900,000 would be required for the bigger ones, good luck!

While up town being browbeaten and nagged by Helen (Is there a school women attend where they learn to bully males?) concerning job searching, I noticed the river was deep, fast flowing and as you can see a bit murky.  This reflects the rainfall over the past month.  I noticed from the train the river had flooded in many places, on occasion filling ready made holes and flood basins, yet we know the rain is insufficient to find its way deep into the earth, to fill reservoirs or aid farmland in the long run.  Personally I think we have had enough, but I do not posses a garden, a crop nor a vast need for water.  The hosepipe ban continues but some would say there are still too many mains pipes leaking that water companies are too busy counting their profits to notice.  They may have a point.




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Another Day Out

The crops are beginning to show through now, as this pic taken from the speeding train shows.  The sweep of the fields always catch my eye, although it does not make for the greatest picture, especially when the sky is gray.  I listened to the messages Richard Branson and his MI6 friends give us secretly as we sped along, but mostly my attention was taken by the smartly dressed young lass who journeyed one stop only and the smell of disinfectant that came from an Asian man suffering a cold.  With my luck I suspect I will be a Man Flu disaster area soon.  Why do such people leave the house I ask?

The weeping willows appear to be bright intelligent trees.  If you must weep, weep into a river I say.  I did wonder about the drought at this point.  Farmers want water and here we have a full river, why not put it to use?  Rather than let it flow into the estuary use the water on the fields.  there must be a legal way of doing this?  No point in farmers, and ourselves, losing crops I say.

  

I am not keen on 'candid shots' of people, I see them as an intrusion, however I did wish a shot of this man's bike.  I would say it was somewhat overloaded myself, and the bag on the ground he had on his back!  Was he off camping?  is he one of the homeless?  Is this how he makes his living perhaps, a travel writer with an angle?  When I made my mammoth ride I had two saddlebags and as little as possible in them.  How much does he carry?  Is he a member of 3 para, stationed here, on his way home for Easter?  I found myself a little intrigued, but just looking at him and imagining the struggle up hill made me tired.  I climbed aboard the train and went home to bed.

The gratuitous train picture!  You all want to see one, admit it!  

  

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Camulodunum

Camulodunum was very cold today, in spite of the weather man claiming the cold snap was lessening.  Here we see the wall forming the first defensive barrier.  Behind the land slopes up to where I suspect another barrier once stood.  Well it would have had I anything to do with it!

Not exactly straight!  Age has indeed wearied this wall which has lasted many years.

 

The variety of stones includes many slim red tiles.  These are Roman bricks I believe but I am too busy to check it out and I wonder if this forms part of the wall created as part of the new defences after Boudicca's revolt. 

   

Can you make out the thin layer of ice that lies on top of the river?

I wondered what this was at first.  The design and brickwork was typical 1950's and must have appeared very modern at the time.  It forms part of the Fire Station and while I am unsure as to whether it is a chimney or part of the training routine I found it strangely atmospheric of its time!

I was amazed by the lamp standards in this area.  Very dated and very badly maintained.  Much more attractive than the concrete type that appeared in the 50's, or would be if painted once again.

My meeting there was once again with a different person.   Yet another has walked off to tour the world and I am now on my fourth worker, and I suspect this will change to another next time I trundle along there.  Still this lass has plenty of common sense and a great deal of the females normal attitudes, she nagged me, browbeat me and was totally unreasonable in her demands!  However I am much encouraged by the news that the employment situation will worsen and 'bosses are losing staff' claim the press.  It did not mention where they lose them however.

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