Camulodunum Town

In spite of the persistent cough, the weariness caused by this cold, and the usual aches, I set off for a trip on the railway to an ancient city, Camulodunum!

Once again Greater Anglian Railways  worked well.  Trains were clean and on time, staff efficient, almost pleasant, though some would say the seats a wee bit hard.

The only downer was the two women, one young and one far from young who sat down in the seat in front of me.  The coach was empty so they sat next to me and talked!  Not just conversation, but grannie, who was dressed for a walking trip, and the painted hussy talked excitedly, enthusiastically, and said nothing!  

But they said it loudly!

I looked out of the window in case they turned in my direction.

It was indeed a very long 8 minutes before the train moved on the stroke of 10 am.  I looked forwards to 10 more minutes of this before we change trains.  However, the young creature left two minutes later at Freeport, clearly working in a shop designed for women with an arty feel and too much money.

Silence fell. 

The next 8 minutes were wonderful.  Only normal conversation could be heard through the now more populated coach.  As I pulled myself up to leave I noticed the walking grannie do the same.  As I alighted I ensured I moved to a distant part of my connection, which was full of normal passengers.  

Only a man asking for my ticket bothered me here. (£9:50 with old man card) 

One thing struck me, in days of old a job on the railways was for life.  Families followed their forefathers into the railways, it became part of the family.  I did not get the impression that many of the staff on the platform felt this way today.  Possibly drivers may have a different view of it all?

First call was to the ruins of St Botolph's Priory, built under the auspices of one William Rufus around a thousand years ago.  Reformation days saw it closed and soon it fell into disrepair.  However, to get there I had to pass St Botolph's Church, built 1836 in a type of Gothic style, next to the Priory, indeed it sits on what was the kitchen areas of said priory. 

I noticed this was open, it was not open last time I was here about 10 years ago, and now they open for prayer between 12 - 1 pm.  Good for them.

Considering the ruins are only half of the original size, people must have used the stones on their houses over the years, it speaks volumes of the importance of Augustinian's to William the Conqueror and his family.  Surely most houses at that time would have been plaster and lathe?  

Placed just outside the old Roman walls this must have been an astounding site for the locals, many of whom will have been forced to work on building it.  The Norman's liked to make a statement with their buildings.

Through what had once been a window, possibly making use of coloured glass, I saw this couple along with a man playing what I think is called a 'concertina.'  The couple stood over a grave or two and sang while he played.  I considered approaching and enquiring but thought better of this.  Who knows how long this has been going on in Colchester graveyards?  

The priory came to house many grave and vaults of the great and good.  One was Dr Roger Nunn.  He became a doctor in the town, rose to prominence, was involved in many good deeds, became Mayor eventually, helped the building of St Botolph's Church, and the hospital, which is still in use.  He gives the appearance of a man of ability who succeeded in improving the town for all classes.

There is of course, a war memorial in this graveyard.  The phrase 'The Glorious Dead,' reveals the sense of loss at the time, and the need to believe the cost was worth it.  It also gave those mourning somewhere to congregate as so many were buried overseas, or not identified.

The difference between Colchester and Chelmsford is simple, Chelmsford is boring, just a shopping centre, Colchester has these small roads full of shops.  The arrangement, caused by living inside the Roman walls gives the place a character not found in Chelmsford.  This long road, lying just outside what would have been the walls, has three names in different portions.  We are standing in Sir Isaac's Walk just now.  Who he?  In Colchester tells us...

 Sir Isaac’s Walk

Sir Isaac’s Walk was named after Sir Isaac Rebow (1655-1726), a local landowner who was Colchester’s MP for many years, and also its mayor, recorder, and high steward at various times. He lived in Rebow House, at the corner of Head St and Sir Isaac’s Walk.

The historical record shows that Rebow was a corrupt politician who left the town’s finances in a terrible state, and was cruel to his family and servants.

He was also a director of the South Sea Company, and a major shareholder in the East India Company. The South Sea Company was set up to ship enslaved African people to Spain’s colonies in Latin America. It is estimated that the company transported around 34,000 enslaved people over the 25 years it traded. The East India Company was also heavily involved in slavery and forced indenture in India.

He does not appear to be a nice man.  Still, Colchester named that section for him, what does that say about them?

I had no choice but to haul my bulk, in the heat, across to the Balkerne Gate!  This was the Roman exit heading west, passing my house as they tramped, hoping to spend the night at the crossroads in town, thus giving the troops a one day march, unless an emergency forced them to continue further.  

It is kept in decent condition, in spite of the publican next door sometime in the 1840s knocking half of it down.  This he did because the railway had arrived in Colchester, well, actually far from Colchester, at the bottom of the hill.  He made space so travellers could see his hostelry.  The station cannot be seen from here today however.  

I considered entering for lunch but noted his 'Pint £5:20' notice outside.  Possibly to keep students away, possibly for those attending the Mercury Theatre opposite and to the left of the photo.  They can afford his prices.

What once was used as the bothy for the Roman soldiers, mostly from Gaul or Germany, while on guard duty now hosts a couple of attractive plants, happy to live on the old stones.

St Peter's Church here at the top of North Hill, and you have to realise Colchester sits at the top of a hill almost all around, was mentioned in the Domesday Book in 1086.  The church was probably begun in Saxon times yet little is known of those far off days.  There were then two priests which reveals wealth, and the town had seven in all indicating other churches were nearby.  When the Priory got going it took over the church in 1102, typical big business, and appointed their own man in charge.  

Things changed over the years, buildings are developed, bits added, and in 1692 an earthquake shook the town damaging the tower and knocking chimney pots off roofs.  I do not think any were killed but shock upset many.  This church flourishes today but unlike St Botolph's, no longer remains open at lunchtimes.

Priests were a strange bunch, most followed where they were told to go but occasionally one appeared to believe the scriptures.   One such was John Ball, he was working in Colchester at times, though his somewhat radical sermons and his desire to make use to Wycliffe's bible in the vernacular caused much annoyance to the Archbishop and others.  

He was jailed several times, banned from preaching, but still managed to speak all around Essex and Suffolk, until jailed again in Kent.  In 1381 he was released by Kentish rebels and addressed the rebels at Blackheath saying:-

'When Adam delved and Eve span, 

Who was then the gentleman? 

From the beginning all men by nature were created alike, and our bondage or servitude came in by the unjust oppression of naughty men. For if God would have had any bondmen from the beginning, He would have appointed who should be bond, and who free. And therefore I exhort you to consider that now the time is come, appointed to us by God, in which ye may (if ye will) cast off the yoke of bondage, and recover liberty.'

 

Arrested in Coventry, tried convicted, hanged, drawn and quartered.  

I wonder what he would have made of the Church of England today?

Having noticed the £5:20 charged at the 'Hole in the Wall,' I lost any intention of having lunch.  However, the name of this pub made me  consider it again.  I mean, in Camulodunum you have to visit the pub called by that name have you not?  I considered the people sitting outside and decided it was worth a try.  I slunk wearily to the bar, a bar offering a dozen beer pumps featuring beer I had never heard off.  That's the trouble with pubs, unless you know the company running them you have to guess what beer is on offer.  The not too keen barmaid sulked when I indicated IPA, the only name I knew, suffering me long enough to give back change.

This is a decent, well laid out establishment, who's clientele appeared to be of similar age to myself.  It was likely that most were regulars, though the board across the way advertised cheap student drinks.  I suspect they may be drawn in come evening time.  If in town again I would once again enter in. 

I was happier to sit than I realised.  Everything was aching, from my feet up and my ears down, and I had only been wandering about for just over an hour.  Nothing for it but to sit there watching young students pass by.  Are these girls 16 or 18 I wondered?  Are they at the16 year old collage or the University the town boasts about?  There were many about, this being lunchtime, mostly female, few males, why?  I once got a single deck bus home, an hours journey, full of such females from the 16 years collage, their conversation is not what I wish to endure again.   

Enlivened by IPA, but not by enough, ought I to return for another?  I made my way to the castle.  On the way I noticed the M&S store had closed down.  Such a busy wee town yet both Debenham's and M&S have gone, I think Primark is the only large store left.  What does that say about the cost of living and big business competence?  

The Castle is of course not a castle.  It stands on the remains of the Roman Temple, supposedly the temple of Claudius, and the remaining double arches that form the basement were the only parts of the temple to survive that nice Boudica woman when she passed through.  The Romans and the Romanised locals who sheltered there were trapped when the place was burnt to the ground.  

Rather typical of a woman in a bad mood I say.  

It is £13:50, no concessions for the aged, to enter, so I didn't.  It is 20 or so years since I was inside, when I and one other whoever he was, got a tour by a Blue Badge Guide.  Very good it was too, and since then vast sums have been spent doing it up, hence the entry fee.  Mind you I was not capable of walking around there yesterday. 

The gardens around were busy, sun now shining without cloud cover, and judging it was getting time for a train I headed back down via all the charity shops along the way.  Sadly this was disappointing, though each and everyone of these shops was busy, as nothing suited my needs.  

I could not avoid this impressive war memorial.  The figures on it are tremendous.  The council at the time clearly considered themselves important enough to spend vast sums on an expensive and outstanding memorial to the fallen.  How much of that is civic pride as opposed to remembrance you can work out for yourself.  

I stopped off for a moment in St Botolph's prayer hour.  This lies just around the corner from the station, as indeed does the magistrates court in case you require it.  Then climbed aboard the train that had just arrived.

The railway crossing here allows a view of the old houses dating back many years that flow down from the East Hill.  Once the town expanded it had to go down these hills as the centre has little space.

It was then I realised I was not on my train.  I just climbed aboard, somewhat surprised at how quickly it left the station, before realising this train runs just between Colchester and Colchester Town.  No one warned me about this.  I was surprised and wondered if this could pay, however the number climbing aboard as I changed once again made it clear this was a popular train.  £3:10 single ticket, good for those coming off one train, and Colchester is a busy station,  and cheaper than the bus to get from north of town to south.  

Once again a short wait brought a 720 to head me homewards.  I moved to the head of where the train would stop partly to take pictures with no-one in the way, partly because the walking grannie was there also.   Anyway I positioned my self so the train at my next change would stop exactly at the lift shaft.

It didn't.  

It went two coaches further.

I made use of the lift, walked to the next one, kept the door open for a cyclist, again kept it open as he left, and moved to the front portion of my train which arrived as I walked.  All that was left was hobbling up that steep hill, finding food ready and waiting for me, and sleep, lots of sleep, oh and a bit of cramp.  

This morning I ache everywhere.  No trips for a while now.   

Now I'm not one to Complain, but.....

I went down to board the 'Worst Bus' this morning and found it living up to it's name.  Who, I wish to know, considers using a single decker bus on a busy route that includes hordes of degenerates heading for Sixth Form College?   The bus filled with them, and at each stop, so many stops, more got on each one absorbed in his 'iPad' (who pays?), 'Walkman' or discussing (loudly) their lives with their neighbours!  The ability to absorb knowledge concerning the important subjects that cause the poor dears such trauma come exam time appears not to include an ability to move from the front door of the bus until the driver chides them, blocking access or escape, and general consideration for others!  Bah!  In my day we had jobs and kept the wheels of industry turning, none of this needless education until we sign on for three years for my generation.  On top of this the brats had the best seats, my late arrival meant I had one of those low slung seats where the sun is enabled to burn your face as you travel.  Oh joy!

Naturally all these creatures left the bus at my stop thus blocking the pavements for miles around and folks with important shopping had to force their way through as they discarded their breakfasts across the streets.  However was it worth the effort?  No it was not!  The desperately required jacket was not available in any shop that I entered, well once or twice something similar was on offer, at prices ranging from £65 - £180!!!!!  Yer having a laff pal!  In BHS (I think, they all look the same to me) not only did they almost have what I wanted, almost at the price I might pay but having a stand of some sort of cards next to the jackets, so close that I knocked the some off the rack, picked them up, as others fell, picked them up, carried on with my research while knocking more cards, hooks they were hanging on and then more cards off the rack, which I then just dumped on the floor under the stand.  Enough looking at their prices with restocking their display stands I thought.  No member of staff moved, or appeared to care.  I lost interest in the jackets and there were no lingerie nearby to ensure I remained in that store either!

  
The 'Castle' is undergoing a major renovation that must be costing millions of pounds.  Our little museum will be doing similar shortly.  The miserly government that happily encourages massive losses on privatised industries, MOD spending, and Tax dodging by their friends, has cut funding for 'Heritage' projects UK wide.  No moneyed friends in this business obviously, so all such organisations have to go into debt to prepare for self funding.  Many will close I foresee.  This little exhibition in the gardens can be given a well deserved Gold Star in my view.  They may have stolen Edinburgh's Chinese Pandas but they have done this very well.

St Botolph's admirable doorway.  Standing next to the old priory ruins mentioned earlier this year this impressive building is hidden behind the main road.  Once upon a time it must have been in an open space I reckon.  I called this 'impressive,' but really is dark gray, darkened by years of smoke soot, really the best brick to use for such a building?  At least this building is still in general use. 

It's tower is quite tall, too tall for my wee camera.

Good news and bad news!  The good news is the discovery of a proper bookshop!  Hooray!!  The bad news is the fact that it is closing down!  Boo!!  The only real bookshop, and this is a very real bookshop, in Colchester is about to end its days.  The owner is retiring, not going bust, so the shop surely can continue, however no-one is keen to take over and keep the shop open, this is very sad news indeed.  The shop contains lots of shelves, lined up in such a way as to make browsing enjoyable.  Books of all types are found there, even in boxes on the floor, with much more upstairs.  A proper bookshop with knowledgeable friendly staff and with no intention of buying books today, indeed I rushed about the Oxfam Bookshop with a less than friendly member of staff, as books were not in my mind today, yet I found myself missing my bus having browsed with no intention of buying for forty minutes.  As however the shop is closing and all books a re Half Price I managed to buy three for a mere £5, less than I thought as I did not really calculate the cost as I browsed, very unlike me I hear you say.  A wonderful place to go, especially when you have not found a proper bookshop for many year.  Want an investment?  Buy this shop!

St John's Gate is all that remains of a Benedictine Abbey built C.1400.  After the 'Peasant's Revolt' in 1381 it was decided to strengthen their defences, how these folks helped the poor eh?  After the English Civil War and Henry VIII all that remains is this gate.  Does it go anywhere?  I know not as I had no time, or energy, to clamber over all the roads to find out.  Shooting into the sun is not easy, especially as I had to cut out the road signs that made fitting the gate into a picture.  

At the bus station I decided to stay alive by spending big on a coffee.  Normally I would not waste my cash on such, grossly overpriced coffee from the abundant cafe's never appeal to me,  yet as I was close to death after running around I considered it worth a gamble.  "Cheapest Coffee Please," I requested, and was given the cheapest (£1:50) by the helpful friendly chap at the stall. Poor man, his sales are increasing while the weather deteriorates but he also is suffering from the weather, which will make him deteriorate as time passes.  However the coffee was good and kept me alive, much to many others displeasure, and I may well head for this place next time I am in town.

Happily the bus home appeared as a double decker!  I smiled smugly to myself and soon lost the leering grin as other degenerates appeared from cracks in the pavement and boarded in their turn.  At least upstairs I got a decent view from the front, everything looks better from high up. However the bus decided to pick up all the old folks with free bus passes ("cough!").  They take their time boarding, each stop provided more of them, and indeed at each stop we stopped!  I was beginning to wonder if we would ever leave the town and arrive at the countryside again.  After a short lifetime, and I have had a few of those, we eventually found the open road.  This, naturally, was blocked by a rubbish lorry and the following parade of vehicles each one determined to get through in spite of the bus blocking their progress!  Bah!  

When we eventually arrived at the village with its narrow streets we found a white van man buying his lunch.  His van allowing cars past but not our bus.  The driver had to get out and chase him from 'Spar' before we could continue.  Arriving in town again and dreaming of lunch he stopped the bus on the outskirts and switched off the engine.  Sighs, deep and heartfelt, were heard throughout the bus.  We have all been there, the bus stops and an announcement, "We have broken down, a replacement will be along soon."  The bus companies use of the word 'soon,' might breach the trades description act!  However after a radio conversation including the words, 'red button comes on,' and 'bus station,' we began to believe we might make it home.

We did, and I decided that I will adjust the hours in which I travel, but I must travel back there, the bookshop closes in October and it is a great shop.  Now I must find some money for my next trip, and I forgot all about the jacket....

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