Misty Return

A bright and misty morning greeted us today.  The unsmiling gathered at the supermarket ready to grumble and complain.  None noticed the brightness high in the sky above the trees, none gave thanks that they could walk to the shop, at least walk from their car to the shop.  

While the sun began to lessen the mist it remained happy enough to allow the mist to envelope parts of the town in an acceptable fashion.  The Victorian heights of the old school with the old Town Hall behind reflected the one time generosity of the wealthy who lived and ruled here in past times.

This pigeons forefathers passed down the story of how these roosting places once gave of heat and smoke.  Today, they stand stark and cold yet decent places for a fellow to clean his feathers and stare at the world going past beneath.

 

Jane Barlow/PA Wire

Alec Salmond returned home today from North Macedonia.  he was seen off by a military escort, provided by the government, and proper diplomatic respect was paid to the man.  On his arrival at Aberdeen no government official was on hand to welcome the one time First Minister, nor was a representative of the SNP available to attend.  

His wife ad family, his piper playing a lament, and I believe Tom Hunter, the man who provided the aircraft to return his body as the SNP government refused to do this, was in attendance.

The media spent much time reminding the world of Alec's faults, in an effort, guided by the British State, to erase his memory, his ability, and his worth to Scotland.  The English Prime Minister will continue to attempt to make Scotland once again, 'North Britain.'

This will not succeed.

Grey Day

The mass of swirling light grey cloud now covering the land does not engender hope as another week begins.  The English schools return during this week leaving many a child hoping for a 'Blighty one' in an endeavour to avoid going back.  I am with them!  School had its uses but I never enjoyed it much.  Football in the playground, History, Geography and Art were OK with me, but the enclosed confines, half the class, and the outside world being beyond reach were always irksome.  I rejoiced the day I left, at 14 actually, I was 15 the next day, and then finding work discovered the outside world was not as easy as I had hoped.  And we never played football at lunchtimes.

Anyway, as kids return, none outside my window so probably a Wednesday date for the locals here, the older children are also returning.  Yes indeed Parliament is back!  The grown up children take their place all awaiting orders from the front bench.  Labour, that is the Red Tories, will fill the benches happy to be well paid for obeying orders.  Across the aisle the Blue Tories are still fighting about  anew leader, this makes me wonder if Sunak will bother returning from California for this?  Robert Jenrick, a man who's personality never formed, is one of two leading contenders here,  James Cleverley, once failing Foreign Minister, reduced to failing Home Secretary,  is the other main man.  Kemi Badenoch, another with mixed motives and little positive ideas, is the leading woman though that does not say much.  Six contend for this position, the nation hopes they will all fail.  

The Lib-Dems will rejoice in the largest turn out for generations and quickly turn on one another and make an almighty mess of the opportunity given them.  The handful of SNP remainers are grateful for the £91,000 hand out, plus expenses so they can keep their heating on, and have no desire whatsoever for independence.  MI6, the Special Branch and Nicola have ended the SNP challenge there.

So, as the gathering cloud darkens the room while dark clouds gather over schools and Westminster we await the right wing press attacks on the government that have been subdued and meaningless over the long holidays.  The meaningless will continue however, that is all they have to offer.  

The dark clouds, clouds of a darker grey it must be said, hover threateningly over Tynecastle.  Here, we find the Heart of Midlothian, in spite of the best efforts of Costa Rican internationals, losing games with a zeal akin to a Tory PPE handout.  8 games no win.  Bottom of the league, European games ahead, the manager not yet hanging upside down from the floodlights as he and his coaches ought.  Twitter abounding in explanations from those who understand best the position, though each one failed to make it at that level, and emotional responses to the difficult situation which always help to obtain positive results.  

Yesterday, the sun shone high and long brightening the world and offering a heat pensioners in December would not understand.  Today we are cloud covered, dark and getting darker.  I think I preferred yesterday...

Shakespeare Café, Braintree

Shakespeare Café

Having risen at the usual time, even though it is a Monday Bank Holiday, I sat lamenting my life for a while at the laptop, including lamenting the fact that the spare laptop would not switch on last night, and downed coffee in a vain attempt to waken up.

By 9:30 I decided to venture out into the chilly sunshine and cross the greenery in the park.  The need for a small bit of green is within us all, though not if it is growing on the wall.  So, off I trotted, passing only a couple of dog walkers, and a young dad proving eh is a 'modern man' by walking the two Labradors along with a pram.  The dogs were too much under control, but dad will think he is 'strong.'

I wonder what my nieces would say to him?

Slowly hobbling up the hill I decided to breakfast in the 'Shakespeare Café.'  You will note the spellchecker ensures 'café' is always spelt correctly!  This was indeed a good idea.  Not long after 10 ish I was served by one of the two friendly staff.  These places make it easy today, the menu has set breakfasts etc, and all you do is choose one and ask for 'Set 2 please.'  This gave me a decent sausage, two eggs, on fried bread, two bacon, two hash browns, a wee bowl of beans, tea and two thick slices of bread, all for £9 plus small tip.

As I ordered it did not sound much, but in time a large plate appeared and I realised just how much there was here.  By the time I looked at the two toasts I thought I might not finish it all!  But I did!

A very good clean café, with friendly staff, usually lots of customers, today I arrived when it was quiet, and I certainly intend to make use of this place again.  Neatly laid out, tidy, well cared for and I suspect a great many regular customers.  I recommend this place!

Of course, now I am stuffed I can hardly move.

After this, I carried my increased bulk into Sainsburys, chatting to a Labrador pup guarding the owner at the door, and picking up a bag of wee orange things without a label thus holding up the ever growing queue at the other end.  I blethered my way out of their unspoken fuming, and ran for the door.

Altogether it has been a good morning, now to see what can go wrong with the day.

As I left the Kirk yesterday I sauntered along a road I have not walked for years.  The long way home took me past things often noticed but never pictured before.  The old museum habit of taking shots of anything remotely of historical interest has not died.  So, the school sign, declaring it was Essex built in 1929 somewhat boastfully is taken.  Not a school anymore, but still used for kids in some way. 

At the bottom of the hill stands the 1930s pub 'The Oak.'  Now long changed use it stands on the busy  corner.  This picture shows how much things have changed in just over 100 or so years.  

The 1930s building stands slightly to the right of this ancient one.   Judging by the motorbikes and the fashions in the picture this may be around 1914 time.  The distant houses have gone, industrial use now, but at first sight, apart from the rickets, 60 hour weeks, and low pay, life appears more leisurely. 

Only those who know their history would realise this lonely, and probably unused light appears to be part of the original 'Lake & Elliot' factory.  Most buildings remain, all in some sort of use, but only one such as I would jump to a conclusion, probably wrong, that this is ancient.

I limped home, getting slower as I moved, wondering if anyone tends these plants that appear to grow wild at the side of the road?  Possibly the council tend them, but I have never seen any action here.  Still, this is better than another fence, however well painted.

A Memory Post

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

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

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

 

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

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

 

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

Monday Mump

It's been one of those weekends. Nothing has gone right.  Even my spelling has failed more than ever, according to all the red lines under this sentence.  Just like being back in school.  I had to buy the teacher six new red pens when I left.  Some refer to being 'Booted' out of school, my teacher took that phrase to heart.  She had a nasty streak after all.
Early this morning I headed to Tesco for bread.  I had been in Sainsburys late yesterday for bread but when I got back I discovered I had got everything but!  I knew I should not have followed that woman around the store...
Today I was in Tesco just after 8 am.  Wandering around, just for bread, I spent £7:27 on other things that I suddenly realised I required, but managed to obtain bread first.  By only shopping once a week I have spent much less money, today reminded me how I was overspending in these money grabbing places.  Of course the lovely lass at the checkout did not like me, that helped to make my day.
The list of things that did not work, was not possible, unavailable over the weekend, plus rain when I considered wandering outside, all added to a dreich weekend.  I did rejoice at the number of freely available football matches on telly but discovered most of these were dower, dreary typically English affairs.  The best part was the second half of the 3rd division German game I found, at least both tried then to play football.
However, with Craig Gordon returning to the Heart of Midlothian there was one piece of good news this morning.  Just as long as he does not injure himself going up to the press conference.
 

I suppose I could have been like the clever people and taken out insurance against my day.  Many celebrities take out such insurance in case their voice/legs/talent suddenly leaves them.  Others take out insurance for their wedding day just in case 'cold feet' appear.  Still others, while swimming in Loch Ness took out insurance in case the Loch Ness Monster bit them!  Similarly a cruise ship did likewise as they feared the monster might bite them!  Sometimes of course insurance is worth while.  The Wimbledon Tennis people took out 'Pandemic Insurance' after the 'SARS' outbreak some years ago, now it appears they may get back some of the £1.5 million they paid out annually, around £114 million expected to arrive sometime soon!
I wonder if they will allow 'Having a bad day' as an insurance request...

First Day...

Yesterday saw many Scottish schools reopen after the holidays.  These usually begin the first week in July unlike the English holidays, possibly so the Scots don't have to mix with the lager louts while away.  Yesterday many a child was dressed in new school uniform, or occasional hand me downs, and frog marched cheerily to the school.  Photographs of clean smart kids appear on social media but non reflect the terror many felt being shoved into a room full of brats and abandoned by parents.  My first day was many years ago when we got two buses to the school, my mother and sister and for some reason a woman neighbour also, forced me into a class of about 40 children and threatened to leave.  I was not having this and made it clear by attempting to escape several times, I was not the only one.  A ginger lad left more times than I but we were forced to remain and endure a day with a strange woman (who we never saw again as she broke her leg next day) and all these little horrors. Looking back it appears many were happy enough to remain, possibly they were alongside friends from the local area, possibly the richer ones (this was a very egalitarian area) had been at some sort of Kindergarten, I know not but I was not happy.

Indeed in spite of my sister being there, she was three years ahead of me, I remained unhappy until the day I left.  Then of course I 'progressed' to a secondary school which was much, much worse!  But enough of that.  In those days girls and boys were rightly kept separate and non of this gender fluidity nonsense was allowed, this does not mean it did not exist but certainly not in primary school, what went on in the houses round about we never knew, indeed at that age no child cares.
While I was educated to some degree, report cards full of "Could do better," and "Take him away," flowed over the years, football was developed in the playground, this could occur as girls were as I said kept out of the way though they had grass and we had some form of tarmac, and by the time I left after seven long years I had some form of happiness there, this ended with the new school of course.  
How much did I learn at school?  Laziness and a lack of zeal for things I did not care for, yes maths I mean you, prevented me for becoming Prime Minister or indeed anything else, my real education began when Jesus turned up and indicated he was alive and took me out of my trough.  His report card on me I do not wish to read.  Only after this did I come into the real world and learned many things, mostly by mixing with clever people outside of my limited ken.  I still consider mixing early teens with a wide variety of different classes, backgrounds and cultures a more important education than forcing them to pass exams.  From 14 onwards they ought to be in the real world not poring over books.  Mind you I was 14 when I left school, my 15th birthday was the next day, soon I entered the world of work where soon I learned how to run from one job to another before you get fired.  You see, education in the real world.

  

Stuck Indoors

 

I have been stuck indoors for days this not for an eagerness to hear the words of Boris Johnson on the news nor for fear of ISIS terrorists, if only the 'Tube' came this far out!  None of these things have moved me much and instead I have merely loitered here unless the desire to feed my fat face moved me elsewhere, elsewhere being Tesco or Sainsburys.  Those places, and one other now found in this town, offered me a glimpse of the creatures that have recently left school and a re pursuing a career in supermarket rip-offs.  One featured a disinterested gayboy who will not see out the month as he clearly finds work in the real work not to his liking.  It appears school has not taught him about reality and while one or two others who joined alongside him are making the most of things this one will not last.  The newer shop, B&M has in the few occasions I have been in been staffed by incompetents and wee girls with an attitude suitable for a poor soap opera, it is however unsuitable for work.  The boys do the job but the girls, including some well past adolescence, fail in every way.   The allure of a life as an 'Essex girl' may be drawing them, I suspect they watch 'TOWIE' and see it something to live up to.  Give me the elder regular checkout staff who for the most part are grown up, well most of them.

Much of my time has been taken up with catching up on things begun years ago.  A woman asked one day for information regarding a local village and we had none, no surprise there as there many villages in our area.  I decided to write out a handout for the village, and others also but never got round to it because of the interference of the war exhibitions.  Recently I managed to pick up some of the forgotten links, those not lost in the death of the old laptop, and have begun once again. 

Some villages here go back into the Iron Age, others appear to have begun just to till the fields of a Lord of the Manor, especially in Norman times, and hovels that once housed farm labourers after their long day in ploughed fields now sell for half a million or more to residents who never meet one another unless they collect the kids from school or lower themselves to get drunk in the one remaining pub, a pub the few remaining locals avoid.

It s no surprise men took to trades of any description if it took them off the land or flooded into bigger towns for work in unhealthy factories where wages were higher and rough conditions better than frozen fields.  It is no surprise also so many left voluntarily for war when the chance came, excitement, comradeship and a chance to see the world was not something a young fit man could wish to miss.  There are fifty or so memorials to those who did not return from their adventure around our district, not counting the ones in the bigger towns.

In days of old things were tougher.  If dad was working the fields the kids had to walk two or three miles on occasion into school.  Fun probably in summer but not so in winter.  Most of these kids were local but others had a long walk in to education.  I do not think most teachers had any qualifications, I am unsure when that became a requirement, but certainly on some census returns clever lassies of 16 years were noted as 'teachers.'  What did they know?  I suggest they were however more capable than the local young checkout staff of today.

A Sweet Thought

The Scots diet begins with sweets.  Daily the kids would fill the local shop buying the delicacies and destroying their teeth.  In times past, when such as those pictured were bought for a penny, some four for a penny, or maybe a half penny depending on when you went to school, in times past no-one wrote long diatribes in the press grumbling about fat lids and potential diseases.  Well the dentists did but we ignored them!
In 1956 I started school, how frightened I was and much more so when I discovered I would have to continue there for the next seven years!  Each day I had threepence to spend on luxuries such as these.  I chose carefully and my teeth rotted at the normal rate for the time.  However I was miffed for may years as the 'Walnut Whip' was fourpence and as my spending money grew so did the price of the 'whip!'  There was little in the way of tinned drinks then we did buy large bottles of juice form the shops or occasionally from a lorry selling them around the estates. (Note: in those days referred to 'housing estates,' not 'schemes' as portrayed by fans of 'Trainspotting' that vile film of the eighties (filmed in Glasgow by the way.)) Cola, Dark Kola, and the usual run of juices were available to rot the teeth but there were still no whining in the media (which I did not read anyway).
Why then were we not fat, sick, and subject to the 'nanny state?
For a start our mothers cooked!  Potato Soup made by my mother was better than anything bought in a tin.  Far too many chips, along with fish, spam fritters or other home cooked grub.  Many of which were fried in the big pan fryer.  I was skinny, and indeed remain such except for the pot belly.
We played outside and this was a reason we were healthy.  We played all sorts of games as kids including violent ones based on the recent war yet none of us became deranged killers (except for that unfortunate night in Mussleburgh which I canny mention).  As we got nearer adolescent age we played football every night, as well as in the playground, and did not suffer any problems.  We started smoking at that later adolescent age all do and most have long since dumped that.  
So why the change?
For a start false equality entered the playground. Instead of boys developing alongside boys and girls beside girls they were all mixed, and that ruins a football game.  The gender lie attempts to make them the same, they are clearly NOT the same and require a great deal of separate development.  The absurd belief that guns caused violence removed army type games from young children.  Even cowboy guns, once common, were banned.  Violence comes from the heart, not guns!  The people most likely to oppose any war are soldiers who have served in battle.  They know what it is like!  Such men also oppose selling guns to anyone who asks!
Quite why football stopped being played nightly in Edinburgh in the eighties remains a mystery.  Was it homework?  Then why are so many from that time dumb?  Why did they buy the awful music from Duran Duran, Wet Wet Wet, and other spangly hair coiffed numpties?
Could it be computer games?  They began then, did they kill off football?  I know only that all the places I once revealed my outstanding goalkeeping are no longer used this way.  How sad.  Could this be responsible for Scotland losing its place in world football?  
If mum's cooked properly, if food manufacturers did not put so much muck into food, if the nation was less wealthy and could not afford needless amounts of fattening rubbish the nation might be healthier.  It certainly would be fitter if more boys kicked a ball around each night than played computer games and kicked one another around.
And another thing Mars Bars were always to expensive for me also. 

Excitement, Not Here...

Waking just in time to catch the end of the Shipping Forecast indicated what kind of day I would have. Not quite 5:30 am and already worn out!  Still the sun was climbing into the sky once again, the birds were chasing worms in the park and I manfully stayed in bed until near six.  Later I cycled down to the cemetery for the LAST time I hope and was back before eight, the climb back up the hill wearing me out and recommending more time in bed I say.  
Nothing else happened.
Being scared to listen to any news broadcast, they only offer the election stuff, I was forced to listen to those 15 minute programmes again.  How delightful to enjoy some radio without political liars being heard.  One thing i did hear was the Lib-Dem man Clegg offering more money he didn't have for 'education.'  I could not help but ask what he meant by this.  Does he mean keep kids at school passing exams on stuff they will never use again?  Certificates that some are impressed by but do not mean you are capable of actual work?   Would it not be better ensuring that at 14 or 15 the kids get opportunities to try a variety of work experience?  Office or labouring, computing or retail, anything that is on offer in the real world!  Just 'educating' folks for the sake of it and dumping them in low paid work even after university is a waste.  Do any of them get taught what life is for I wonder?  Do the teachers know?  
The warmest day of the year so far, near naked ladies in the park and white men in tee shirts and shorts making me wish I had less for breakfast.  I of course spent most of the day in here doing those important things, or sleeping.  
I hope your exciting lives were more exciting than mine today. 

A Tiring Day

The strange weather, neither Autumn nor Winter, has confused the plants and the beasties. Some plants have wonderful blossoms on show and all around lie dead leaves blown off the trees.  Beasties that should only show in Spring occasionally pass by wondering why they are not hibernating or dead yet. It's all very confusing really.  

I was quite confused myself today as I, with two others, attempted to deal with a herd of wildebeest at the museum.  A large school party arrived and sauntered around eight or ten at a time.  For most of the morning we sold our goods, checked the change, indicated £4 was not enough to buy £5:90's worth and helped the maths by suggesting dumping one or two items.  On the whole it was successful but at the end off the first half dozen groups we were reaching for the tea wishing it was brandy!  When I left there was a similar number still to come!  Quite how they got so many on those buses I am not sure.  It was good fun but exhausting.  Quite how people decide to become teachers is beyond me!

One or two of the brats were a wee bit out of order, not unusual that, however talking to the lass who plays the Victorian teacher she was going on about the indiscipline in schools today. She herself is a retired teacher, all our Victorian teachers are, and upset that so little personal responsibility is taught. That begins in the home and so many kids do not have a stable home. The nuclear family is the only way and yet many of these kids have no idea of what this could be. Her complaint was really about the 'rage' and 'anger' that she finds in children, 9 or 10 years of age, because of problems at home. Indiscipline in school plus a policy of not touching or shouting at kids does not help.  At one school she was asked to leave because she 'touched children.'  The two boys were fighting under the desks and she pulled them apart!  The teaching assistant complained and she had to leave!  Good grief!  Pull them apart and six of the belt and no more problems, or at least less often problems.  Liberal parents, liberal schools, and a demand your rights approach does not produce kids prepared for life.  They might end up as teachers!   

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Complaining, Something I Never Do!

Round our way Mum's little angels have gone to school.  The streets are now safer, the shops less crowded and indeed much quieter and the museum has a hollow ring to it these days.  The classrooms are very different from my day, computers arrive very early while we had to use pencil and paper! Classes are much smaller and parents complain there is only one teacher and three helpers for a class of twenty something, ha, our class reached 41 at one point but did we grumble, no!  

At secondary I wore the compulsory blazer and gray trousers like everyone else but was very envious of the 'rough' types who wore combat jacket and jeans, the trendy outfit of the time. They got away with this by claiming poverty, which was often true, but an awful loot of it was the brass neck attitude against authority.  It must be said most of those dressed thus were of an intellect deprivation culture also and many will not have risen to the highest positions in the land, if indeed they remain alive!  

This comes to mind as several stories appear in the media whenever school restarts, usually regarding some precious child who insists on wearing the emerald green footwear specifically banned by the school rules or has a pin in her tongue (to give her "confidence"), or hair designed in the latest banned trend. The press make a lot of such stories and the typical response when the spoilt brat is banned is 'serve them right!'  I agree with that.   Instead however of dealing with the dear brat in the making I suggest hammering the parent, usually a single mother with no sense of responsibility determined to do what she wants art all costs.  Occasionally daddy whines about his pet but normally when a man is in the house such things occur less, I wonder why?  

There is in the cases I noted recently no 'poverty' involved, indeed the opposite or they could not afford the trendy footwear, so it is selfish ignoring of the school rules.  Now such rules can indeed be a bit extreme, we were not allowed to smoke in the toilets for instance, but normally it is cheaper for the parents if they pay for the school uniform rather than the latest trend.

Maybe I just hanker for that combat jacket even yet?

You may have noticed the news recently.  Ukraine fighting although peace moves are afoot, ISIS or whatever they are called today killing folks dramatically in Syria/Iraq, drought threatening Ethiopia, problems still in Democratic Congo, Christians facing attacks in northern India, wars and rumours of wars abounding.  The TV offering hour after hour of 'pap' masquerading as worthy viewing, soap operas, cooks, bloody cooks everywhere, crime programmes from forty years ago, mostly American, and little else but drama that is no more than a soap opera with explosions.  So what drew most complaints to the BBC?  A game show!

The Pointless quiz is being repeated, in the way the BBC repeat everything, and 1217 people complained because one episode was missed out!  One quiz show episode missed and over a thousand people complained!  When first run in 2012 they made a mistake.  An answer was given and it was decided this was incorrect, it turns out this was a wrong decision.  A large number of people wrote in to indicate the fault and so to avoid this happening with the repeat they dropped that episode.  However this resulted in a huge amount of complaints!  

What does it say about us I wonder?      

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School Bell

While some folks have spent their days lounging around some of us have been worked off our feet!  The brilliant idea of Friday to return to exercise, followed up by cycling for an hour on Saturday and Sunday mornings was very successful.  The muscles responded very well and ached in all the right places and one or two I had forgotten about.  However instead of relaxing in a hot bath for the whole of Monday I found myself at the museum for the annual stocktake.  This, as you may guess, was a 'bit mixed.'  I admit I had easy bits to do but saying this the lists were confusing and there was much to-ing and fro-ing going on from all of us all day.  Some things that had been counted clearly had items removed and required recounting, others were straight forward except for the odd one or two there appeared much later elsewhere!  This was not helped by questions asked being answered and then asked repeatedly again!  Still that is done now and someone else has to go through it all and work out the mistakes, missing bits and the query regarding the one book which in fact should be one hundred!  I found them all but no-one believed me.  Next time I am in they will be on sale!!!  

One of my pet projects is to establish a folder with one sheet of information on each of the subjects folks ask about when they pop into the museum.  To this end I have been acquiring info from the website, writing a thing or two myself happy in the knowledge that we er, have the knowledge to hand. Naturally the only question today was about the school that once populated the building and that is a subject I know nothing about!  Tsk!  Why don't they ask about things in the file?  So that goes on the list of 'things to do,' an ever growing list I may add. we were able to show where answers could be found but could do nothing about the memories of his childhood spent in terror at the school back in 1960. It appears he did not have a happy time.  School memories never fade. 

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Thursday Shopping!

This depressing view is how we shop today.  Romance tells us that in the past small shops were friendlier, more sociable and more human.  The last is certainly true!  The sociability and friendliness depended on the shop owner but their size at least was easier for as human to comprehend.  Today large shopping centres are geared to the rich man in his automobile, leaving a depressing emptiness outside, even if clean and safe.  The large buildings house all those shiny things we long desperately for, whether they make us happy or just fill our emptiness is another question.  Today in search of something shiny I took myself to the Stanway centre by bus, I left the Bentley in the garage.  

Now some weeks ago it came into my head to fix the broken PC, I need this in working order in case the laptop dies, dead computer means life as we know it comes to a halt, and that will never do! Struggling with this idea I was in Chelmsford, at Maplins shop, investigating a motherboard an other nameless bits on the shelves there.  My brilliant brain decided to leave it and investigate PC World and the vast stocks on their shelves, therefore I was here in their Stanway shop.  Here I discovered, via a friendly and competent young assistant, that since uniting with 'Curry's,' PC World/Currys no longer stock the inside bits for PCs, only shiny new ones.  The young lad suggests I try 'Maplins,' they stock motherboards he offers helpfully.  My slumped shoulders headed for the bus stop where I caught the next one into Colchester itself in the vain hope that their shop would be readily available in the town centre, it wasn't!  Bah!  So I wandered about, avoiding the charity and book shop temptations keeping my eyes upwards looking in case something interesting was to be found.  Several bumps into people and street furniture later I changed my approach.

      

Behind the Roman wall at what once was the edge of town stands St Mary at the Wall a redundant church that has stood here for around a thousand years and now is merely an 'arts' centre.  I suspect it will be an excellent venue according to the many big names that have appeared there, it must hold a thousand or so in the main hall.  Had it not been for the dual carriageway someone had dumped in front of me I would have had a closer look.  

This is a pub called 'The Bull.'  They have enabled even the daftest to realise this by placing a 'bull' high above the door.  This of course was what was done in days of yore when education was lacking, even the daftest could tell the difference between a bull and a Swan, as many were named.  The flags are out to tempt people to watch the 'Six Nations' rugby which is on at the moment. Sadly the sun shines on the other side of the street hence the dullness.

  

The Edwardian's liked fancy buildings!  The Baroque Town Hall was built in 1902 with a rich patron, James Paxman, paying for the tower soaring high above crowned by the statue of St Helena the towns patron saint.   Inside and out it represents the wealth the men of the town wished to impress upon the world, and bask in reflected glory themselves.  No doubt some of those men were around when Henry Charles Fehr sculpted the war memorial raised in 1923.  The usual words bedeck the memorial as the townspeople attempted to believe their war was indeed just and glorious.  Memorials raised today do not inspire such admiration I think.

I was unable to find 'Maplins,' probably because it lay on the other side of town from where I landed, so instead had a closer look at the 15th century gatehouse to St Johns Abbey, the only remaining part of said abbey.  Besieged during the English Civil War, which was not very civil as may lost their heads here, the gatehouse survives although behind lies merely a car park, and only for the use of the members of the organisation based here.  

At one time this supported a statue of either a saint or a local worthy, today it just wears away in the rain.  The siege may also have caused damage, the twin was almost worn away.  

Inside the small gate reflects the small size of people in those days, six foot tall people were unusual at the time, and I wondered about the people who peered from the windows at those waiting outside for them.  The Benedictines moved in late in the 11th century and moved out when Henry VIII kicked them out.  The Abbot refused to hand the place over and was gently hanged just outside the gate. Henry had no patience in those days.  The Lucas family took over and moved in, sadly they supported the crown during the civil war in 1648 and this led to their end and the bits of damage to the gatehouse.  The buildings inside disappeared over the years.

I was impressed by this wee house, dated 1823, clearly enlarged since and more so round the back I noticed, but remaining a delightful small cottage.  I am not jealous I state here, not jealous at all.  St John's Green primary school also drew my admiration, although I am not willing to attend there.  Built in 1898 in a kind of Dutch style it reflected the weaving history of the area and the Flemish connections from the past.  

  
As infants rarely have the ability to read I am struck by how many old schools put directions above the doors to ensure the wee ones went into the right area. Maybe they were a wee bit brainier in those day?

This area abounds in churches that date back a millennium, the disused Church of St Giles goes back to the 12th century but I am not sure what it is used for these days, signs are not obvious. The tower got my attention, that appears very Saxon in its style but it dates from around 1700ish.  As always it has been amended and added to over the years but now lies quietly surrounded by the iron railings that also go back to the 1700's.  

Behind me as I took this picture lay the main police station, the cells I believe lie behind the small square, thick glass windows I leant against, you may no better.  When this station was built in the 80's an archaeological dig discovered 371 Roman burials and this building dating from 320 - 340.  The evidence indicates this could be the earliest church building in the British Isles but further evidence is wanting.  Some reckon it is possibly a Roman soldiers Mythraeum, but they would, wouldn't they?   Ever known archaeologists to agree?  Bah!

Having wandered around the town with my money still in my pocket I splashed out on a £1.50 coffee from this man at the bus station and well worth it it was! I was intrigued as to how somebody ends up running a very successful coffee stall and it transpires this man is an ex-serviceman.  That got me wondering also.  Now he may be happy in his work, he may be making a good profit, this is a busy place to operate, and he may well make sufficient to keep his family happy but it suddenly seemed sad that a man who risked his life in Northern Ireland and Afghanistan should be running a coffee stall.  As stated he might well be happy but it seems to me men who have risked lives for the nation could be getting better treatment than they do, especially when they are capable, knowledgeable and possess that amiability we often find in such men. I am just glad he is as fit as he is, IDS would be naming him in parliament otherwise.

While admiring Coggeshall's old buildings and remembering I was going to visit there I found this cat that I noticed last time.  He slinks on the roof high above the crowd looking for birds that are not gathering in front of him.  Maybe they think he is real!  It reminds those with cameras to always look up, and check it is safe to do so, as above the shop doorways there is often something intriguing awaiting you. 

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