A Walk Into the Past

Braintree Museum

I dragged my emaciated body around to the Museum this afternoon having been summoned to attend by the lovely lass on the door.  You see on Saturday, when I ought to have been busy with the afternoons football, I was dragged out to help the lass cover for her absent helpers.  She had been let down by other volunteers rudely taking the long weekend off.  Tsk!  Being the kind, thoughtfull, (trapped) kind of man I found myself with her until closing time.  This was in fact no hardship, but indeed a pleasure, however I made the kind, helpful, offer to attend if she was ever desperate for cover.  Silly boy!  The girl was hardly in the building this morning, I suppose had not even finished the mornings gossip, and she was on the phone asking when I could be there. So that's three more dates fixed in the diary, what have I let myself in for?

I wandered around the museum, mentioning to another captured volunteer that later I may be able to help with some painting, he kept his doubts well hidden, and I strolled around looking into the past.  Much better than watching television I thought and I was right.  A few coins, rings and objects, possibly idols, from the dim and distant past were on show.  Fragments of live lived here during the Bronze Age, among heavy wooded land with some animals possibly, maybe a pig or a cow.  Urns and large pottery vessels indicate how life, while changing, remains at heart the same.  Water once collected from a stream and carried to the top of a hill was later pumped nearer to the homes.  Vessels to store goods, others to cook, trinkets to decorate the ladies, all reveal changing tastes and quality of life, but at heart the people remain the same.  Bronze Age or Roman, Medieval or Victorian, people never change. 

The weaving machine from the mill that once earned a lass five shillings a week for her ten hour day stands ready.  Here dark black cloth, 'crape,' was manufactured during Victoria's day to supply the need for funeral wear.  Courtauld's employed hundreds of people in their mills and made themselves very rich with the cloth developed here.  The fashionable Victorian's would not be seen dead in anything else.  The other mill, Warner's, produced high quality silk weaving cloth.  These weavers were men for the most part and the quality was such that the Royal Family made use of their services.  The Warner's Archive contains the array of designs highly skilled weavers gave to the world.   Metal windows were a radical development at the turn of the century and Crittall's manufactured them here in the town until recently.  Buildings designed during the twenties often contained these windows and a great many are now 'listed' as important for our heritage.  The 'Titanic' also had windows designed and erected by Crittall's, these failed to keep the ship afloat however.  

This is the Victorian classroom.  Schools bring groups of kids, dressed in mock Victorian garb, to learn how education was taught in times past.  It is a bit worrying that those desks were awfully like the ones we had at school!  One 'teacher' taking such a 'class' would indicate the pupils feet and ask "Shoes? You have shoes?"  This would make them realise that in the past kids their age did not possess shoes unless very wealthy!   Many indeed worked very  long hours until education of sorts became compulsory.  

I enjoyed my wander (you will note I have not mentioned the excellent new Great War exhibit as I am not one to bore you with going on about that) especially as I have not got out much in recent days, the bug causing me to avoid eating for a day or two.  So it was good to refresh the mind with thoughts of the hard lives lived in the past, the benefits we have, and while we fear a price increase of 20 or 30 pence on bread because of weather affecting the harvests we know we can afford basic foods for the most part, in 1900 many could not!  I fear some are indeed in that situation again.  Visit your nearest museum, and find a life!   

17 Mile (ish) Trip

Huge covering of mist greeted us today, however by half seven the sun broke through as I pedalled slowly past the early morning dog walkers and huffed and puffed my way to the back roads.  Here I delighted in avoiding dead rabbits and various birds left by speeding careless, or uncaring drivers and as yet undiscovered by the crows.  And were there crows?  I'll say!  Of course they could be Rooks but as no-one can tell the difference it makes no difference.  Each time a skwack was heard each nearby tree had a dozen nests.  Soon they will be full of raucous young, deafening anyone within earshot.  I would have pictures but they are remarkably shy and the mist hid the brutes anyway!

The idea when I began was to trundle around the back roads in the sun looking for interesting things.  The mist did hamper this somewhat, as did interesting things that were too far away or too near the windows of the expensive houses that I passed.  I know these houses are expensive as there were Mercedes and the like parked there in abundance.  Now I am not one to look through folks windows but I did notice few people were up and around.  Few closed their curtains either!  While I enjoyed the trip I did make the slight mistake of going down a new road and enjoying the slope downwards.  Great relief from the pedalling but the road sign at the far end pointed me towards Dunmow and unwilling to go back up the slope I foolishly went on, this was far too far from home for my knees.  There was nothing for it but to continue until and hope for a way back to appear.  Luckily I stumbled on a road back and ended up in Felsted instead.

Felsted has yet another 12th century church and I suspect a Saxon one stood there for a while before this time.  Again possibly this spot was used as a pagan site even before the Romans began their tour of Brittanica.  A lovely church, closed today sadly while they spend money renovating the place.  Nice door at the base of the tower, with a Norman arch (please confirm).

Just how many people have passed through this door over the years I wondered?  Today I suspect merely those intent of playing the bells that hang high above, certainly not to fix the clock on the side that appears to have been stuck at three minutes past twelve for ten years!  Right next to the church is an old school building dating to the 1500's.  I wondered why there were names cut into the wood.  Graffiti has always been with us.  We must let the world know we exist.

The flash was required as they lie in a darkened alleyway, but it is possible to make out some names, and the date 1806.  About that time the school moved to an impressive site just down the road and became a major public school.  The school was popular enough for special trains to run from Liverpool Street to carry the sons of the rich to their education at beginning of term.  

A gurgling river would have made a better picture had I not been looking into the now bright sunshine.  The scene would also have benefited from not having an empty water bottle lying there.  Plastic has brought much benefit to us, as well us filling us with toxic chemicals, but people's inability to dispose of it properly is a pain!  Wallace would agree!

   

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Monday Evening

My day was cheered when I came across an old news item concerning my secondary school.  Stupid people claim, for reasons I have never understood, that schooldays are the 'Happiest days of your life!'  I never found this to be the case, nor have many others.  Education I could stomach, well some of it but certainly not the bit concerning 'sums,'  but being locked into Stalagluft XVII I could have done without.  However trawling through the web for some other reason that slips my mind I came across the story of the school fire! This school was begun in 1960 and by 1964 I was frogmarched into it by the city authorities. In the year of our Lord 2010 those same city authorities closed the school and moved the terrorists further down the road and into a new prison camp school building. Naturally this was done as the school closed for the holidays at the beginning of July with the intention of beginning the new school year in the new premises. Now consider, you literary lot, that the area behind the school was the district in which the book of the film 'Trainspotting' began life then you will gather that the residents are not the most intellectual that the 'Athens of the North' has bred.  Within a week or two the school was burning to the ground and the noble gentlemen of the 'fire and rescue service' were attempting to do their duty while also attempting to help the police discover which of the wretches were cutting the hoses as they worked!  Only one feeble 14 year old laddie was held, the other thousand ex-pupils escaped!  I write this to indicate my sadness - at not being there to light a match!




I also had nothing else to write, so that somewhat smug report from last year will have to do.



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