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.

A Trudge to Get Bread

As expected we rose to a white landscape this morning.  Slow traffic edged its was along the highway, occasional workers coughed and muttered as they slipped their way past.  Occasional dogwalkers muttered also while trying to find a clear spot for the dog.  Clearly, not all succeeded.  

Much against my better judgement I joined the cheery throng, once the schoolkids had passed by.  Whether they were off to school or off school I knew not, but I let them go first.  By the time I got fed, dressed and had my boots on, the traffic was beginning to flow normally.  Clearly the majority had remained indoors and only the workers and the desperate went out.  I needed bread... 

To get bread I trudged through the snow, being reminded of how hard this could be.  A few inches lay there, pathways already clear down the middle of the path, and at the side areas where children had sought to be the first to leave their footprints in the large white expanse in front of them.  Who can blame them?  Did we all not wish to do that?  And some of you still do!

One man, dressed for the front room, hurried across the park, pulled out his phone, took a quick picture, and ran away back from whence had had come somewhat guiltily.  The rest of us, warmly wrapped and slow moving, ignored him.  Most offered a rueful remark as we passed one another, one woman annoyed at being 'called in' to work when she wanted to take pictures also.  How cruel life is.  I bet her pictures would be better thought out than mine.

At the far end I snapped a shot from an area dominated by the early, and frozen, dog walkers.  I have taken such shots for years yet little changes.  To think that once this was a school ground, and before that a rich man's house?  Before that it appears to have been a field, an old painting shows this in the 1800s with a cow happily wandering about.  All things must change.

 

I had hoped to see the birds behind the church but clearly they were struggling for food at the moment.  None bar an occasional wood pigeon flew by, and they were not stopping.  I wondered how they would feed themselves today, though I suspect peoples gardens would be places to find free offerings in this weather.  Not much I can do to help these days.

My route took me past the freezing Town Hall and the old water fountain, it no longer works of course, but there are less horses, pigs, sheep, cows and buyers these days.  Bottled water appears uppermost today.  Council workers were spreading grit around the area, clearing a safe path, and working up a sweat.  Sadly, we have no equipment that allows me to do this here, just an old stiff brush which merely spreads the stuff and makes it slippier!  I will not tell you how I know this.

The only splash of colour comes from the Post Box.  Note the 'Sat' for Saturday tag, indicating nothing was collected that day.  I suspect it was not collected today either.  Vast quantities of mail fills the Royal Mail offices, little of it finds its way to me however!  I am all in support of the striking workers, however, Royal Mail and this grubby government are not willing to do the deal, the failing attempt to turn the people against the strikers has not yet led to a climbdown by government or their men.  I note however, the nurse will not strike in Scotland as the government their has found a solution to the problem.  Why can the English not do the same?  Simple answer, they do not want a solution, they wish to sell off the NHS to their American friends, line their pockets, and care nothing for the people.

Keir Starmer and the 'Tory Two' Party has failed the workers by refusing to back them, calling for an end to strikes, and even claiming it is impossible to pay the NHS staff more.  This is no longer the Labour Party, this is a man desperate for the top job and he will say anything to get it.  It is time for Starmer to go, he could do nothing when the failing Boris was PM, he failed to remove Liz, and now fails with the latest failing PM, it is time for Keir to leave the show and allow a member of the Labour Party to take over.

Sunday Dawdle

 

In betweenfootball matches I took a dawdle across the park.  Sun shining, cloudy sky blue, few around in park yet in spite of a chill a young couple sat smoking funny cigarettes possibly thinking it was summer.  Nothing exciting was happening, even the dog walkers were not to be found.  Several men had been lumbered with the kids however.  One man I passed had two, dressed in football shirts, racing to the park, dad carrying the ball, kids dreaming of glory.  Another was taking his 4 year old into Argos (does this shop ever close?) she ready to spend all his money.  Yet another was walking several in a manner of a man herding sheep, I suppose that is the only way with a crowd.  It's times like these that I miss the family.  Even though the brutes are all big lumps now I miss the wee kids hanging around, they think differently, act differently and are small enough to pick up and dump on their mother.

 

 

The million pound or so being spent repairing the mess that was the High Street has led to people bemoaning the works being in the way.  This town creates moaners in a way that makes me jealous.  I cannot moan like them.  The grumble about the street then grumble about people repairing it!  Once finished they will grumble about how it looks, the cost and what ought to have been done, though they themselves did not suggest one idea before now.

 

 
The Old Town Hall does its best to rise above all the goings on, including the erection of a Hotel complex (that is not required) that is costing umpteen million, paid for by a council that cuts services (Tory council) and thinks this a good way to spend money.  Even Dominic would think this weird.

 

The rusty leaves are abundant on the ground now, the chill is with us always, the sun appears in the wrong place, low down, and I have been putting the heating on.  This does not bode well for the next few months...

 

Day Off

The Chancellor in the English Parliament has offered his Budget to the nation.  The chattering classes are chattering twenty to the dozen to convince us it is a good/bad thing for us all.  I suspect it will be a good thing for those who already have plenty and not so good for the rest of us.  I have dealt with it in the usual manner by switching it off and awaiting the reports tomorrow which give a better indication of what it all really means.  What it all really means is the ones who already have more than enough will have more and those without will have less, as always.  Not that I am a cynical type you understand.

Quite whether I need to make use of the dregs from this ancient bottle I know not as yet but listening to the clever people often drives me to such as this!  Being a day off, I must open the curtains sometime soon, I am in no mood to do anything that demands thought so maybe thisis a better idea than at first contemplated.

This is 'International Women''s Day' and on Twitter and Facebook vast numbers of pictures of women are appearing along with the #Womansday hashtag.  Naturally I wished to do my bit so apart from enquiring when is 'International Man's Day' I have posted pictures of women, such as the one above, with the required hashtag.  For reasons as yet unknown no reply has been received on either social system but at least on one the number of pictures has lessened.  On a newspaper (that word is dubious) a lass is demanding 'equal pay' and I agreed with her.  I requested similar pay as to what she is receiving as a member of the Scots Parliament, I have as yet received no reply.
One day men will be equal to women...

Misty

The mist tempted me out again today, as far as the shop wherein bread could be found!  Afterwards I busied myself at home doing those things that have not been done.  They still haven't!  
The speed of the laptop varies as the day goes by, maybe it will settle down soon?  In the meantime I took advantage to begin scrawling a wee thing about remembrance for the museum and the media.  I pass it too the boss who translates it into newspeak and they either change it again or ignore it.
As it is I have yet to finish it as I forgot half the stuff I should have used.  Bah!

Sometimes places look better in the mist or the dark don't ya think?  
Not that the few out and about cared, another Monday trek to work with bleary eyes and cold feet was their lot.  A few cars, some key holders opening the shop, well opening it enough to get in and put the kettle on and find the coffee while waiting for the staff to arrive full of cheer.  
The damp streets would not encourage folks to leave centrally heated homes and the mist out there on the wet roads did encourage at least four accidents from half asleep drivers not considering the word around them.  Mondays they say are the worst days for accidents, tiredness, bad mood and weather conditions combine, although a degree of left over beer can also remain and affect drivers. These are not days to be ambulancemen or traffic police!  It is not the day to be a bus driver trying to keep to his time either, the mist and the accidents ruining the day.

   
This of course is Halloween, the latest fad for taking money from stupid people.  The absurd horror pictures filling facebook & twitter, the vast sums spent on dressing up and even more spent avoiding kids Guising (I refuse to use the American term) as well as nobody actually understanding what all this is actually about takes some beating.  Tomorrow it will all be gone and while most of it is fun for kids there are those who will be enticed into dangerous areas through such activities.  What was once a pagan get together, possibly with a fear of evil involved, is now a party in which real demons do indeed entice some. 
Churches of course usually have alternative activities for kids, some even regard it a All Hallows day, from which Halloween comes, and those who actually benefit most are the makers and retailers of all the garbage that suddenly fills the shelves, shelves which by this time tomorrow will be packed with Christmas goodies.  
Good luck to you!

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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Town Hall

I was tempted to write, 'I saw this and thought of you,' but several young ladies are looking in so I will avoid that.  This creature you see before you, no not me, the one in the photo, hangs from the town hall wall and was intended to spew rainwater upon passersby in times past.  Whether it works now I am not too sure.  It was brought to my attention during a quick tour of the town hall as was.  I say as was as the building long ago grew too small for use of the council. The dolphin shape, for that's what it is, goes back a thousand years to the other half of the town, as I explained earlier as those who did not fall asleep will recall.  Built in 1926, a 'gift' from one of the kindly Courtauld's, a family we have met before, it contains several interesting  wood lined rooms.  Originally it appears to have been rather austere but later decor added paintings of some interest.  Difficult to photograph them as we sped through, the guide not at his best,  however I did get a couple of quick shots.  This being the window over the grand staircase.

The town crest at the top contains the line 'Hold to the truth.' Fabulous line to have amongst town Councillor's I suggest.  As if the suits that gathered could be trusted to pursue the 'truth.'  I am sure many did a good job, and some probably did seek the 'truth' at all times but the cynic within me is not sure about that phrase.  Anno Domini 1927 reflects the year of completion.  Originally the cost was around £10,000 but at the finish, as the Courtauld man insisted on only the best material, the cost rose to £50,000.  A wage of £3 or 4 a week would be good then!   The Courtauld's family, being Unitarians, believed in 'good works.  They built hospitals, schools, and the like for the towns in which they operated.  However by increasing the wage by a shilling a week they may well have done a lot more, but this way they get themselves a more permanent memorial. 'They said "Let us  build a tower that reaches up to Heaven and make a name for ourselves," or something.'  The generous man was rewarded with a gift of a Gold casket afterwards!  Jings!  

Sadly I cannot show you the chairs, mostly backed with pigskin, the murals reflecting the towns history, going back around a thousand years and sending a boat load to America to found a similarly named town in Massachusetts or somewhere, the big breasted girls chosen for the large map on the chairman's ceiling, or the valuable grandfather clock that possibly doesn't work.  One thing is clear the pretentious importance of those involved in the building.  The powers of the day considered themselves important, they do today but not in the same 'class' manner.  The importance of the town, busily industrial as it was, required they thought such a building, and the creator desired his memory to be revered also, though he would not say so.  Sadly while he is remembered he does not find the world really cares.  Once we have gone few really care do they.  Had the family considered increasing the wages slightly, and losing out themselves to some extent, they would have created an eternal memorial, and that would be better I think.     

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Blue Sky Thinking

I took this picture of the town hall clock tower not because it was special but because the sky was blue. Read that again - BLUE! Yes indeed for much of the day the sun shone and made us smile, well not the lass in Tesco's obviously. Last time she smiled she was off sick for a week. The sun has made the tower a bit brighter than it was in real life, the clock handles ought to be 'golder' in colour, but my laptop does not enable that to show sadly. However the blue is what I want to see, and lots of it. The golden creature on the top, just what is that supposed to be, and what is it doing? In a week or two I am going on a private tour, with a hundred others, of this 1926 town hall and may be able to catch a couple of pictures. It is very noble inside, with interesting murals and doors, staircases and such like. A reflection of town pride and the pride of the man who paid for it so generously. Of course paying a shilling a week more to his workers might have created a better society but he didn't think of that.

The town hall stands where the town market once stood.  Jokes about cattle and Councillor's can be inserted here.  To the modern mind, who often complain about lack of car park spaces, the idea that cattle, sheep, pigs and the like could be driven through the streets a mere ninety odd years is outlandish.  Yet the market square would buzz with the farmers selling their wares and drinking their health in 'The Bull' and other watering houses.  People on strike for that extra shilling that built the town hall also gathered around here because they felt they were treated in similar fashion to the beasts.  They had a point!  before the Great War strikes were common.  In the year 1912 the railways, the builders, many major industries were all on strike.  Conditions were awful in many places, train drivers and their firemen often driving for the whole day and then forced to do another journey after that.  Long hours, short pay, easy sackings, no compensation.  Life was tough for many in those days.  Then came the war!  Well that's a relief, that helped sort the industrial troubles, apart from the strikes obviously.  Did you know women munitions workers could make a pound a week working a twelve hour shift?  No wonder they took to lipstick, cigarettes and local pubs!  Soldiers got one shilling and twopence a day basic, that's eight shillings a week at twenty shillings to the pound!

We still treat soldiers badly.  The pay is better, some after care has improved, but the failure of the private company to recruit and train sufficient security staff for the Olympics has meant a further several thousand troops must be brought in for security duties.  Three million unemployed, many in the London region, yet they have several thousand staff short?  This organisation lacks a wee bit of organisation I think.  There again after having received £280 million to provide a service and offer the minimum wage for hard conditions I suspect I can see where their problem may lie.

Digitaldreamdoor.com

It is fifty years ago today that the Rolling Stones made their debut at the Marque Club in Soho.  While the line up was to change somewhat in the days following before the 'famous five' pictured above became famous, that's how it is with musicians, nevertheless that was the first time this band performed. Fifty years ago? Some of these boys now touch 70, who would have thunk it? One of the great rock and roll Rhythm and Blues bands of our time. This is one of the tracks all aspiring Rhythm and Blues bands played in those days:-

'Scuse me while I reminisce....

Where's the Sunshine?

Early morn I ventured out looking for pictures while the streets were quiet.  Sadly the gray clouds overhead spoiled things somewhat.  I did attempt a shot of the golden owl grasping a black mouse with its beak but the light was too poor for a success.  From behind I did get a good shot of him looking towards the 1926 town hall, given by the Courtauld's, and recently refurbished. Why an owl on the drinking fountain I know not.  Old 'Frith' pictures show a light there but a skinny bird on top, possibly a thrush not someone out of the celebs pages.  By the seventies the light appears to have vanished but the owl has been there since I brought my presence to the town.  This too was expensively cleaned and renovated a year or so ago.  Now the town wasters hang out here, no not me!    

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