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.

  

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!   

I Have Nothing to Say

It's one of those weeks. The things that have impressed themselves on my mind, the museum, dead soldiers, Rangers men lying in their teeth, and our corrupt government have not been the stuff to raise laughs or interest those in far flung places such as Texas or Dalkeith.  No sir my scrawls have gained little attention and on top of this the rain keeps coming down.  The weather is of course a talking point in the UK.  With the vast Atlantic on one side and the continent on the other weather patterns vary considerably.  Left over US hurricanes lash our western coast and drop rain everywhere while snowdrifts from the Arctic arrive via Siberia from the east.  This leaves a lush, green landscape in which crops can happily grow.  However it can also depress those who spend several days at a time with raindrops falling on their heads.  Gray skies do not bring smiles, although in the UK blue ones don't do that either.  Walking into a closed glass door however can bring a smile to those standing nearby!  It has been known for the wind (The Mistral?) to blow north from the Sahara to arrive in the south of England on occasion.  While it deposits vast amounts of sand grains in the southern aspect of Spanish homes, while leaving the north grit free but chilled, rarely does the dust come this far.  It does however bring a welcome warmth, we miss it at the moment.  What is arriving, whether from west or south, is Atlantic rain!  Tons of it is falling, a months supply at a time, and the plucky Brit is doing what he does on such occasions, he grumbles!  Of course while the rain is indeed heavier and more persistent than usual it is Springtime and this weather occurs every Springtime to some extent.   The plucky Brit of course has forgotten this and merely whines about how bad it is, global warming, ice age, and the Labour Party's fault!  Unless we have to the answer is to stay indoors unless the sun shines, but that would lead to folks complaining about being trapped I suppose.

Not being one to complain, or indeed to blow my own trumpet,  and I remarked as much this morning in Tesco's where the lass made a comment about kids behaviour.  "I wasn't perfect," she claimed, "But they are so bad today." I took the opportunity to remind her I had been perfect as a child, and her story changed. "So was I," she lied!  The young woman following on suddenly woke up to add, "That makes three of us."  I decided I was in a store full of gloating maniacs and left before anyone else joined in.  But is it true?  Are kids really worse today than 30, 60 or 100 years ago?  I doubt it.  Human nature doesn't change and certainly not in that time.  Culture does, discipline does, and we live in liberal times where freedom easily becomes licence. Personal freedom is more important than other people, and consideration for them lessens from parent to child.  However all is not lost and never indeed was in danger of being lost.  People were just as bad in the past, two major wars, a depression and less wealth all round covered up selfishness and human sin.  Things are more open today, exaggerated by tabloid press, and the good that has always been done by all manner of people still continues.  However that said all brats should be locked in school 24 hours a day, seven days a week in my view!

The museum has a Victorian classroom, a very good practical idea in my mind, that educates the brats on past teaching methods.  Dressed accordingly, but with shoes not worn by kids in the past, they learn the highly disciplined schooling of the mid Victorian times.  I thought of this yesterday while attending a meeting to discuss a new layout for the museum.  Surrounded by knowledgeable people who knew their subject i was a bit out of place, but opened the gob anyway, and found truly I was out of place.  After a morning discussion I confess to still not being sure of what has been decided, my lack of concentration, the debate, and many suggestions means I await the next news.  The Victorian times do interest me.  Vast changes in western society, influencing the entire world, mass movement of people, railways, leading to industrial development, increasing wealth, and indeed leisure times.  They are so near to us it is possible to identify with Victorians in a way we cannot with those of previous centuries, they were too different in every way.  Our towns are still based much on Victorian development, as is the rail system and much else.  Prices have changed somewhat mind!  It's a very interesting period and I would like a time machine to go back there for a look around, although taking all the medicine I require with me of course!

 I did however discover a wonderful thing today.  The old telly, no longer used since the 'analog' was replaced by 'digital' signal, does in fact play the videos that are stacked around here.  This is good as there is many wonderful programmes available, much better than the junk now filling TV.  I was beginning to wonder if I would ever get use of them again.  I remain content with small results.  Great events shake me not!  Who said cheapskate.....?  

Of course much of my time has been taken up on newspaper sites adding pertinent comments on the Rangers FC situation.  This club, sectarian to make money, arrogant and offhand to the rest, has been discovered fiddling the taxes, around £49 million, and this added to failing further tax by fiddling the way they paid players doubling the money owed by the 'loyalists' to the queen they sing about each week.  The abuse, the threats and the refusal to accept blame has risen to a level that would embarrass residents in Barlinnie Prison.  Pleading a 'special case' because '"It's us," appears to be the theme.  I am happy to report few attempt to justify their behaviour on the comments, almost all condemn them.  It is the club that whines and bleats in a shameful manner, blaming this one and that but never admitting their fault.  Regrettably  the more they speak out the more I hope for their demise.  An altogether terrible situation all of their own making.

Not much to laugh about, although I did laugh at Rangers, saw humour aplenty amongst the volunteers at the museum, laughed at folks blogs, where intended I mean, and am within myself beaming these days.  Have I been drinking......?

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Braintree District Museum

I spent an enjoyable morning at a volunteers get together at the Braintree Museum this morning. (Where most of the pictures come from) Delightful to see so many willing to do something to aid the town's history.  We had an lovely time attempting to decide what we liked and disliked about the museum.  Small groups gathered to discuss the various sections, I managed to claim one Warners section was not my favourite, it just happened to be the company the lass next to me had worked 28 years for!  I meet people when I am rude.....

It was generally agreed the outstanding aspect of the museum was the Victorian school room.  This receives groups of young folks (children were considered 'small people' not 'children' in Victorian days), dressed in period costume, who endure a Victorian type education for an hour or so before experimenting with this or that elsewhere  Playtime features suitable games, no iPads allowed!  As the building was a school built by one of the Courtalds in the late 19th century it seemed an obvious idea.   

My primary had desks like these!  The teachers however had more appropriate 1930's style desks, containing a 'strap' (a Lochgelly Tawse) for punishment.  I am not quite sure where the spears at the back came from.  There are shields and drums of an African origin elsewhere and I wonder if these are the fruits of English imperialism?  We heard of future projects and priorities for the museum, and the Warners Archive, for which we were shown the new website.  Warners had a large mill nearby and the archive not only keeps alive the history it is an active producer of material.  Silk manufacture is a highly skilled affair and designs and materials are still produced and sold there today.  Not quite the same volume as in times past of course.  Warners Archive

Note the obvious mistake with this Victorian tableau!

I love the Victorian era, especially as I did not live through it, but my aged family were close to it, one uncle being born in the 1890's.  The attitudes of the day was seen to some extent in the family members throughout the seventy years or so they lived.  Much of Victorian infrastructure lies about us still, railways, buildings, crowded High Streets, churches for a sample.  We are much closer to Victorian days than we realise.  

However I also like the distant past and artifacts that reflect life here from 2000 BC or thereabouts are very interesting.  To be in possession of a daily object from so long ago releases a strange emotion.  I am not sure what it is, maybe I had too much porridge for breakfast.  Anyway I love bits of aged pottery, a coin or an axe head from the distant past, it connects us to those who lived and died here so long ago.  Why should people be forgotten?  I am frequently amazed at how little information appears concerning men who lived, worked and served in this are from a mere hundred years ago.  Many of their houses remain but just as many have long since been demolished, and with the house goes the memory of the individual.  It often appears as if they had never existed, but an effect of their life remains with us all, usually never realised.

When the school took us to the Royal Scottish Museum in Edinburgh as kids we were forced to sit in front of a large glass display and listen to a wifie discussing the stuffed birds found therein!  How enthralling!  At least on one occasion we were confronted with a Japanese crab with claws six foot long.  Why I have absolutely no idea, there were few of those around our way.  Some people find Museums to be boring and kids need to do something, not be lectured about stuff.  Make them enjoy something, even if it appears to be boring, and they will remember it.  Folks remember humour better than dullness.  Dressed up like 19th century waifs, but smelling much nicer (well up to a point), the urchins have a more 'hands on' affair in the museum today.  The RSM had one or two very expensive machines that revealed the working of coal mines and the likes, but miserable teachers insisted we ignored those and stopped sliding along the polished floors and sit down and belt up.  I am happy to report no miserable, bullying, harridan like witches were found teaching there today.  Instead I found a group of interested knowledgeable volunteers who wish to discover more and make the towns history known.  I myself am happy in a dogsbody role, to me this is a promotion, and I am learning from those that really know.  I am well impressed with the knowledge found here amongst professional and volunteer workers.  

So that's where my old bike got to!

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No Change

No change where my huge weight is concerned. I am eating less, and better, sometimes at least, yet I remain 'overweight. At least the last time I had to go to the doctor, for what I thought was possible skin cancer and turned out to be nothing at all (no wonder men do not run to their GPs! Why do we waste their time for nothing?), he went through the usual routine of blood pressure and weight. He was not keen on stones and pounds, he being one of those men brought up on kilograms, whatever they are. However he agreed I was not the 'fat slob' previous medical men have indicated, merely 'overweight.' This is the nice way of saying 'fat' but not as fat the next man.....who is a 'fat slob' by the way!

I waste precious minutes of your busy time, and as you get older time passes much quicker, I say I waste minutes of your time mentioning this because when I got back from a short walk this morning I weighed myself on the old scales. I discovered that if you put most of your weight on to the left side you only weigh 15 stone 4 pounds. (translate that yourself) so I spent a while at an awkward angle before falling off.

I was tempted out by the warm weather today. In spite of gray cloud cover it was remarkably warm, in fact I had the window open all night, not something folks in Edinburgh would understand I imagine. Not only would they freeze to death some wee ned would attempt to break in and steal life saving equipment, 'I-pod,' 'Mobile phone,' 'digital camera,' 'laptop,' and the like. Those things that life would be impossible without these days. I mean how did we live in the distant past of ancient history, say 1980, when such things were unheard of bar among those who read Sci-Fi? Anyway I walked up hill and down dale, well they were before someone built all those houses on them, passing the ladies returning from dumping the kids in school for the last day before the holidays. How lovely to think that for the next six weeks the streets will be filled with selfish brats blocking every pavement and shoplifting in every other shop in the town.
I would vote for any party that kept them indoors 24 hours a day seven days a week. Except ours of course, but they have had their visit to the vet and our family keep them all on a lead. The rottweiler and pit bulls we let roam free as they are less dangerous.

Ah well, I can't sit here adding weight, I must be off out to the market looking for veg that has fallen of the stalls and opportunities for cheap stuff they are desperate to get rid off. It is also encouraging as most of the stall holders have huge beer bellies. This encourages me as I feel slim beside them and on top of that I notice their men are even worse!