Spring Rain Holiday

I'm beginning to think May is the wrong month in which to have May Bank Holiday. Mist and cloud greeted us this morning, rain followed, umbrellas are seen, damp streets and damper people pass by.

Have a nice day!

The council have taken to planting trees for one reason or another in the park, in 70 or 80 years these will be well worth looking at, today they are somewhat young.  These few were planted a couple of years ago and now are sprouting these wee purple flowers.  Not easy to see properly as the cloudy day hinders photography, but they look delightful.  No ide what they are but when the trees develop and increase I think they will look very good across the park.  The later trees remind me of those we see across France in Great War photos lining the roads.  They will be good in another 50 years.

 

 

Being a slow news day, as always, I spent some time watching lucky people travel about on steam trains!  Why they can make it while I only watch, full of jealousy, from afar I know not.  The steam gala included many large and small engines, some from afar, running back and forward, sometimes via the guards van, and all camera clicking men, and they were mostly men, were clearly enjoying themselves.  I could see that by the way none of them smiled and all appeared to ignore one another.  Tonight some volunteers will be working late emptying out all the ashes and preparing one or two engines for their return to home stations.  Lucky they!

Friday/Saturday

A bit of a conflict high above us this morning.  These two Magpie's have taken to living amongst the trees.  This annoys the Crows who live here.  Yesterday two Crows buzzed the Magpie pair and saw them off.  Today one Crow was chased off by this fellow and his mate, but the Crow is still hanging around in the trees high up somewhere.  Possibly he awaits reinforcements?  The Crows from times past would not put up with this, and I suspect more conflict soon.  I just wish they would come down lower so I could get a closer picture.  

Naturally, I was so engrossed by the birds conflict that I forgot to scribble anything else on here.

Few noticed.

However, Saturdays have little to say other than shops, football, sleep and feeding the face.  Nothing out of the ordinary occurs at weekends, unless something personal does.  

I met my downstairs neighbour walking the dog, at least the dog was pleased to see me, and little else of note occurred.  

Nothing in the news, no accidents, no trauma, just lies from crooked politicians, and mostly made up stories about royalty.  What a disgrace the UK media is.

My weariness, and the fear of heavy rain which did not arrive, put me off walking to the Kirk.

Instead I read the chosen verses, Jer 31:31-33 & John 12:20-33.  This took me to Jesus telling the disciples, at least those close to him, just how troubled his souls was, to the point of death.  Yet he chose to follow his fathers will, for that is why he came.  What a moment it seemed to me, here Jesus was faced with the choice of avoiding the cross, yet he would go through with it.  Then he says 'If you follow me you must take up your cross.'  He gave up so much, lost life, faced Hell for me, us, and he chose to go through with it.  What I face is so much easier.  So why do I fail?  

I am not sure being at church today would be any stronger an interpretation than what this meant to me.

Season of Leaves and Chick Pea Soup

'Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness?'  Not if you are one of the many men now sweeping leaves up from pathways, car parks, various buildings, or just clearing them from the gutter of a great many houses.  I was considering this as I watched these leaves fly off the tree opposite, aided by the 16 mph wind, according to the BBC weather site.  As the afternoon sun glints on the leaves, both in the tree and scattered on the ground all around, it looks marvellous.  For those slipping on them on the pavement a different emotion might be coming into view.

I recall at the hospital in Maida Vale the three or four trees we had the privilege of watching.  This was not considered a privilege as we swept up between parked cars day after day.  Of course it does not last, but if you were on the early shift you had most of the work to do.  How come I was on the early shift when leaves were falling I ask?  Tsk!  

This seasonal thing makes me wonder.  Why seasons?  Why not just have one season where things grow all year round and leaves fall, er, compactly?  Why cold and heat, why not just nice temperatures to suit?  There again some seasons are well worth having.  The sunsets and autumn colours can be magnificent.  The darkness less so.  Imagine darkness before electric light?  No wonder the ancients went home and locked themselves in at night, that is nightfall, none of this midnight day ending rubbish, I think that began with the Romans.  I suppose many societies had forms of lighting at night but only when gas and electric arrived could we pollute the night sky as well as we do now.  

Snow of course produces wonderful scenes, though it left me and my neighbour flat on our backs at different times.  Summer speaks of long days, joy and happiness, Spring however, in my humble view, and you realise how humble this view is, can be the best of seasons.  Looking into the bright fullness to come, the new life all around, lambs gambolling, buds opening, birds flocking in from Africa, and a happiness seen amongst people, even in big cities.

We now approach a proper winter.  The leaves fall, the weather gets colder, winds come from the north, and the gas and electric take a great leap upwards in January, the busiest time for these crooks!  Do we have a Tory government?  Do Ofgem represent the public?  Is the Pope a Catholic?  

Bah!

Once again I attempted Chick Pea soup.  This is usually OK, and today I added, amongst other ingredients, Turmeric Powder obtained from Sainsburys.  To this I added a wee bit of Cayenne Pepper, and other things.  Unlike the fish in the oven that I forgot while scouring Twitter the soup did not burn.  This surprises me however, for when I attempted to eat some tonight I realised I had been somewhat overeager with the ingredients.  Cayenne and Turmeric go together quite well but possibly not in the amounts that fell into the pot today.  That pint glass of water has come in handy tonight, and I may not require to put the heating on for a day or two, no matter how low the temperature drops.

Still, I suppose this is healthy...

Wednesday Rambling Nonsense

 

It is to be regretted the way the cloud cover keeps changing.  One minute bright sun glints of the leaves opposite, the next a dim darkness falls and the leaves lose the sparkle.  Once bright green many are now turning golden as they begin to fall across the road.  Already today the greenkeepers have driven around in their wee vehicles, grass cutting mostly, but also shredding many leaves, either deliberately or by chance.

While a blue sky appears above the treeline all appears well, but we know this means soon the branches will be bare, the leaves biodegrading across the park, and a council worker driving another wee vehicle around the streets early in the morning attempting to scrub the streets clean.  Some hope.

I note the railways are already sending out those trains who's single job is to smear the line so trains do not slide past their stops because of the fallen leaves.  Some suggest cutting down the trees, others raise alarm at the thought.  Nobody is ever happy.

I've enjoyed looking at the swaying trees all day.  There has been no energy for anything else.  The weariness has reached a new height today.  Aches everywhere and tired limbs.  This is not unexpected, but it is worse than feared.  It will disappear overnight while I enjoy a deep brandy cocoa encouraged sleep.  

It is to be hoped that it is less tired tomorrow, then I can start the things I promised to do on Monday.  The 'to do' list sits here crossed out, but nothing actually done.  This of course is not unusual in this house.  There is a list of must do jobs, such as 'Spring Clean,' that have not yet begun, and routine work is haphazard without a woman to bully me.  

I bumble about emptying the sink of its contents, tidying up so I can make a similar mess again tomorrow.  All this eating each day takes up so much time.  I recall the announcements in the press of years ago promising a 'Pill' that would nourish us as well as a three course meal.  Sadly such wonders do not appear to have arrived.  Possibly they are all on space craft wandering around the earth feeding spacemen?  

The books pile up unread beside me, the biblical ones to the right, the others spread about.  It is just too much effort to concentrate for long.  I return to staring at the leaves, watching US trains arriving and departing noisily from railway stations in various parts of the US.  Most US trains are of course found in the US.  

This appears boring to some, and at times it certainly is.  However, for those scribbling notes to one another at each Rail Cam, it is a way of meeting friends, the subject becomes less important than the communication.  All appear happy, friends chat and greet one another in that kind US manner.  Happiness flows.

I rarely comment.

The situation regarding these railways reveals much about the US way of life and how they do business.  It makes the UK appear almost normal.  We see small towns with around a couple of thousand people struggling to survive in one state, while elsewhere a vast metropolis has miles of railways running through it, reflecting their history as well as their trade today.  

Of course they drive on the wrong side of the road.

The rush hour appears dead tonight, hardly anyone trundling slowly past.  All is speed, well, 30 mph, and all ignore the 20 mph side the county council wasted thousands on.  All this rush is wearing me out, time for bed...

Edinburgh, Autumn and Football

Louise Rayner - John Knox's House, Edinburgh

A quick glance at this picture and you may think the scene has not changed much in all these years.  This picture, painted in the later 19th century, is full of life and depicts what is supposedly a normal day in the life of the great city of Edinburgh.  We see the High Street, or 'Royal Mile,' as it is known as it leads from Edinburgh Castle down to Holyrood House, has always been a bustling place.  The painting portrays the locals, with a few workers of many kinds included.  The better off by now having moved down into the 'New Town' long since, we can tell the small tenement dwellings are occupied by those standing around in the street.  None are ashamed of hanging out the window and participating in the conversation, none are ashamed of washing hanging from the windows, neither activities being seen done today.  

However, this month Edinburgh endures, sorry, welcomes, the Festival.  An orgy of high class entertainment for the paying public.  Alongside this come the 'Fringe,'  this is an orgy of artists seeking fame and fortune, alongside those from previous generations who made it here in the long forgotten past.  This comes with a plague of leaflets no-one reads, mostly scattered about the streets or pinned to any available post, also unread by passers-by

Add to this mix the Dustbin men are on strike for a week!  This means wheelie bins overflow, rubbish piles up, and none gets collected.  The tourists flooding into Edinburgh, while the locals flood out if they can, get the benefit of Brexit Britain in their face, and certainly up their nose.  An excellent idea of the Binmen to make clear what is happening in our country today, low wages, high energy bills, and Brexit failures flood the nation, and the government, in Westminster, has gone on holiday!  As I keep telling the Brexiteers, "You voted for this!"  But they refuse to accept reality.  "This is not the Brexit I voted for!" Is their cry, though there never was any other on the table.  Lies and devious politicians, backed by very rich men abroad has brought the nation to its knees.  And Brexiteers refuse to accept this.  Trains, docks, Royal Mail, and dustmen on strike, and Brexit continues to make problems.  

Boris is on holiday.

400 miles away from all this I sit watching August slowly disappear from us.  Already 22 days in and leaves are falling from the trees.  Possibly this is encouraged by the dry ground, the heat heavy upon us this year, possibly just normal Autumn approaching.  

The sun still shines, though now through much more cloud, and slowly heads towards the west.  Women take their dogs across the quite safe park, enjoying the sun while standing gossiping about their neighbours with others like minded.  The impatient dogs snuffle around the fallen leaves and sun browned grasses always finding something to keep them busy.  

The rush hour now struggles past the door, music of an awful kind emits from one, a ringing phone from another.  Rap, with a capital 'C' passes by at three miles an hour, followed by the airport bus, hydraulic brakes squealing like a crying child.  Every evening the same people, the same slow struggle towards retirement.  Others, often retired, foolishly shop at Sainsburys in time to meet the rush hour.  They have done this for several years, why?  Have they never considered an early morning or late night shop?   I suppose getting up, checking the pills, finding breakfast, walking the dog, and then it is too late for shopping.  In the evening they would not wish to miss the 'Bread & Circuses' provided for them by broadcasters dulling the brain and hindering thought.  

I avoid such TV yet find my mind is dull and thought hindered.  Having exercised, twice early last week, then twice worked in the front to clear the mess I found my self very tired and aching much from Thursday onwards.  Even today, after a trip to Tesco, my body aches.  This, I must say, has nothing to do with the money saving offer on a bottle of 'Jameson's Orange Whiskey'  that was going cheap last week in Tesco.  Irish whiskey does not just possess a wrong spelling of 'whisky,' it is also only 30%, which tempts some to drink more than they ought.  Especially when watching football.  My neighbours now know I was watching football at the weekend.  

Rain!

The expected rain eventually arrived, thunder bellowing and lightning flashing somewhere further over.  Jolly nice for those of us indoors suffering only occasional splashes of water, not so much fun for those hiding under the trees across the way.  Situating yourself under a tree during such a storm is not the wisest move, although there is no chance of cover elsewhere around here.  

The power appears to have diminished now and constant steady rain washes the months of mire from the streets, a very welcome event.  However, the cloud now makes the world a darker place.  We have ben used to bright days, brighter, sometimes colourful evenings, and now a dim grayness steals across everything indoors.  We are no longer used to this.  

I could easily survive six long months in the far north during the summer, permanent light would benefit me greatly.  The six months darkness of winter might wells see me dangling on the end of a rope!   How can people, especially young folk, cope with that.  Many years ago I worked in a commercial darkroom loading lots of Black & White film onto a bar which then went through the developing process.  No skill required.  However, at that time of year I went to work in the dark, worked indoors all day, and went home in the darkness.  This did not last for very long which is just as well.  Six months regular darkness does not enable happy people, no wonder Scandinavians drink so much!

Maybe I should try that now while the monsoon rain drumbeats on the kitchen window?

Paris Street – Rainy weather (1877) by Caillebotte

A Walk in the Park

A couple of weeks ago I did far too much walking than I needed.  Not only that, it was all in a couple of days squeezed together.  This was not wise.  It has taken almost two weeks of remaining indoors to recover.  So today, I wandered out across the park, trying to remember the way.  A walk around town, and back home to sit and stiffen up once again.  Stopping, when old, is not a good idea.  When you start up again it all goes wrong.

I sat here on this old tree seat as I don't think I have ever done this before.  The tree was chopped down along with some others that had come to the end of their life.  One or two may have had problems, but all were replaced with many trees being planted to replace the lost ones.  

The park used to form the gardens of the Big Hoose, who's owner left it, the gardens and the Big Hoose, to the High School for use.  The trees planted way back in the early 1800's were a very wide selection.  Whoever designed the gardens knew what he was doing and what he needed to plant.  Sadly the ones who planted the trees would never see them in full bloom.  Similarly the ones planted in the past few years I will never see reach the heights.  The Big Hoose itself is now a handful of expensive flats, sorry, apartments, with added houses at ludicrous prices. 

Tennis is rumbling on.  I would rather look at the gray clouds above, they are more interesting.

A Wander in the Sunshine

In a vain effort to find life again I took off quite early for Tesco.  Saturday morning among the masses is often invigorating.  It was however, like the misty glinting sunshine, quite peaceful and the healthy ingredients sought were soon found.  Healthy, that is those rumoured to stimulate the brain, Bluberries and very dark chocolate for instance, were joined by Flax, Chia seeds and Hemp, the latter for one of my nieces husband's Christmas's, he will probably think it will get him high.  He is one of those convinced cannabis is the answer to all problems, from cancer to covid.  This, he attempts to prove but he so far has not been successful.

The rest is for my latest health trend, and having paid through the nose for these goods, along with my other calorie controlled foodstuffs, I should look like Charles Atlas by Christmas.

This may not however, be the case.

 

I had to look twice at these balls hanging on the trees.  These trees were only planted a few years ago, 10 maybe, and I do not remember any fruit on them last year, though I could be mistaken.  'Conkers,' all around, at least the outer shells, as it appears some kids have been having a go at them already.  The more mature trees all around have certainly passed their fruit onto the public as the mess around their feet reveals.  Many a child, and not a few adults, will now be enjoying themselves with such on pieces of string.  Entertainment is easy, computers or no.

 

 

Having walked home from Tesco carrying a heavy but healthy bag it is almost a delight to walk without any weight attached.  Having lost a stone and a half I rather hoped walking would ease, it looks like another stone must go.  At least once that stone has gone my old shirts may fit once again.  

A sun drenched public garden, with a bit of early haze, is a delightful thing.  All were happy apart from at least once screaming child, the fruit of the children's play area at the top end.   
 

The last of the roses blossomed happily in the sun.  A large bush, almost a tree, once full now with only this lot left in any decent condition.  The volunteers who help the gardners do a great job of keeping these plants going.  

 

The idea was to walk round and energise the bulk, instead I felt my knees objecting.  Naturally, this park is on a slope, and to go homewards meant going uphill.  I await my lottery win so I can employ a servant to drive me uphill when my knees tire.  This however, may be an unfulfilled dream.

I wandered about, as always getting strange looks from women with kids, clearly women who read 'those stories' and listen to 'old women's tales,' and most of them appear neurotic as a result.  Even young dad's look sheepish, though that might be because they are not used to doing such work as watching kids.  

 

As I headed towards the gate I saw this man stiing low down and apparently unaware I was approaching.  Moving slowly along the path I got two decent shots of him before he felt he had posed enough and disappeared under the bush.   Usually Robins are very wary, quickly flitting out of distance and hiding in the tree.  This one may have been asking himself what life was all about, or where has the wife gone, or wondering what football was on today.  He appeared preoccupied but once he moved he did not show up again to ponder.

I don't think much of this fountain myself, it's all a bit weird I say.  There is a rumour it represents a kid who drowned in the river.  I don't blame him if he thought they would do this to him!

I kept going when common snense told me to return home, eat and sleep.  Common sense is as you know in short supply these days and it failed to appear with me also.  Instead I continued up the slope, across the town, passed all the workers still attempting to finish refurbishing the High Street, and noticed the old church had a door open.  I peeked in, something was going on, so I entered and enquired off the two young ladies on guard what was amiss?  "It's a Ladies Day," they said grinning.

I made my excuses and left!

I wandered into 'Clintons' Card shop and glanced at the horrendous Christmas stock on display, almost none of which was suitable for my needs.  However, I purchased three £25 Amazon cards towards the Christmas present stock and was picked up off the floor by the helpful young woman working the till after I fainted when I realised just how much I was paying for this.  She grinned as I explained the vast number of women I had to serve in the family and how I was failing to remember the pin number I have used for almost 30 years.  A very helpful young woman, not unsual around here I must say.

Heading home I met a young man from the Kirk and we put the church world to rights, OK I mean we grumbled a lot, and then were joined in our grumbling by one of his old workmates, so our grumbling widened to include much of the local world.  In all, this was a very enjoyable imitation of a group of gossipping old women.  I then headed home much to my knees relief and now await the Scotland football team playing Israel for the (I think) ninth time in 3 years!  The draw for competitions must be changed I say.  

Gardens Walk...

This afternoon, suddenly inspired by Suzah's brilliant photo blog I rushed out into the remains of the afternoon sun in a van attempt to copy her.  I failed! 
Avoiding the shenanigans in the House of Commons I had spent the day in meditative practices, or dozing as they call it, not counting the three tracks from 'AC/DC' that I played to wake me up and get me going of course.  That sufficed to enable me to visit Tesco and risk a checkout lass with a cold.  Standing as far back as possible  finished the job and hobbled home in the sunshine.  There, while the sun glinted of the rusting leaves I read the panic stricken media informing us of wild winter weather, storms and gale force winds plus snow!  Possibly the media have not understood October before.

So I wandered across to the Public Gardens so kindly donated by one of the Courtauld's in 1840.  This, once part of their garden, was well lit in the late afternoon sun.  Even better the wee kids were not running around screaming as they were being dragged by their anxious mothers to various primary schools to collect the bigger members of the family as they left school.  Once again we must make the most of the days as next week they are on holiday again.  

You do realise that as darkness falls and the shops fill the shelves with Christmas stuff yet another year is ending?  Two months and a week or so to go.  I'm sure time did not go so fast in the past. 

Trees grow at a slow rate.  I suddenly realised today just how big that tree actually is.  The man below, hidden to our right, knows just how big the tree is as he has raked up the fallen leaves and knows he has to do it all again very soon.  These must have been planted in the 1840s I reckon, as I think that is when the garden opened. By 1880 when donated to the town (I am guessing at the year as I canny be bothered looking the date up as they are on record next door) these trees would have been  decent size yet neither the garden designer nor the owner would ever appreciate them full grown.   I stood for a moment and wondered at the huge size of trees, this one spread out, others going almost straight up, and enjoyed them.  Reminds me of the tree seen on Dave's site recently during his French adventure.  Now the dying leaves fall to the ground, annoying many who have to remove them, and remarkably quickly the bare trunk will stand stark against the sky, all rather sad in a way. 

The Holly is preparing for winter also.  Large bushes appear, usually with red berries but I wished to get a dark line against the sky for an effect.  Comments on a  postcard... 

Freezing Friday

This freezing Friday was cheered somewhat when the EU spokesman made use of the word 'Nebulous' to annoy Theresa.  She appeared irked, and made a public show of this in a vain attempt to get some publicity, and attempted to handbag the poor man.  Speaking the truth does not go down well with politicians.   It is clear however that either deliberately or not Theresa faces a vote in the House that will end her Brexit policy, this could lead to changes, a No Deal or a Referendum, some say, and fun and games continuing into January and on.
Like most I only read the headlines and the important bits of those now.  Surely with Rees-Mogg and his minority right wing group silenced for now it is time to remove their left-overs and call a second referendum and end this farce once and for all.
So cold today I went out to the shops late afternoon just to avoid putting the heating on.  This also would avoid me wandering about tomorrow with the rain threatening.  Naturally now I am home I find I forgot chips!  No chips and I will die!  Back to Sainsburys in the morning...
I hope all is well with you in the real world.

Wasted Saturday

A three football match Saturday today. Not that I was able to watch them all the way through with making a broth of sorts while the first was on and falling asleep while watching Livingstone and St Mirren, a response that St Mirren will often produce.  Now Leicester are playing Spurs but I am finding my mind wandering to other things while I scribble this.
 

The town centre extravaganza offered sheep, white ducks, a donkey and a couple of goats, including this one who appeared more than happy to look down his nose at passers-by.  This pleases many and I suspect next week, or the week after reindeer will appear.
Otherwise it has been a wasted day, just as well as I did not wish for anything else today.

A Walk in Lexden

As always my ideas were good.  I would venture out to Lexden, wander through the park to the 'earthworks' and find if I could a way to the tumulus where an Iron age King, possibly Cunobelinus is buried.  Naturally wandering about in the Bluebell filled woods was a delight, especially as few were about, yet it was not possible to find my way to either object I sought.  The earthworks was behind a fence somewhere in the woods and it was not clear how to get onto the path behind the tumulus, so I let the king sleep and wonder if there was in fact a second way into the woods which I did not find.  I did however pass three bags standing alone at one point.  Either someone was hiding nearby or they were transported by aliens as they passed through the woods though why anyone would carry three such bags through the woods was unclear.

Lexden was a mere village for many years and was referred to as 'Lassendene' in the Domesday Book but was of little importance until the rich Victorians from Colchester a mile to the east moved here to build big houses and enjoy clean air.  Nothing but agricultural work in the rolling hills of the area. Today's large fields are ploughed, seeded by tractor and machinery while in days of yore hard work for the man ploughing with oxen on such hills and then while harvesting later in the year.

Clearly some had been making money fro many years before that time, and being on the main road there was naturally a 'Toll booth' to extract money from passers by and to help maintain the roadway, when they got around to that.  The resplendent house had the name 'Weavers' on the door but this does not look like a weavers type of home.  He may of course have made his money and employed workers elsewhere, there were lots if such in this area.

The churchyard and the woods teemed with Bluebells.  Masses of them crowded together under the towering trees.  Few creatures more however, a few birds flitted among the trees rushing about to feed themselves as they produced eggs and a single squirrel avoided me in a hurry and raced up a nearby tree.

This hill, along with a dead tree and what looks like blocks once used to stop tanks during world war two were ideal playmates for the males of the area.  A nearby tree had an improvised ladder which would have been brilliant had I been a few years younger!  A great place for kids.  

 
Many such trees were all around some around four hundred years old, coppiced by the looks of it for much of that time.  When the rich moved out this area must have been roped off for the 'Lexden Park House' built at the far end, no poor peasant would be gathering firewood from here then.

  

With a wood, a pond and ducks to feed plus acres to run around in this must be a marvellous place during the summer months for kids.  If all this belonged to one family it must have taken an army of cheap workers to maintain the grounds.  

In case there were no ducks or geese around someone has placed four large geese in this corner alongside a tree trunk shaped like a human.  The ducks and one solitary wary Canada Goose sitting close by did not show any appreciation of the artwork to my knowledge.

During the English Civil War (why call it 'civil' when so many died?) Lord-General Thomas Fairfax camped his men here while he laid siege to Colchester.  To the east lie 'Hilly Fields' which appear to contain much woodland now, but which gave a good view of Colchester defences a mile further east. A cannon from the town caused many casualties among the Parliamentarian forces until similar weapons were brought up to demolish the battlements the cannon was based on.  I wonder whether Fairfax used the 'Sun Inn,' now a private house but since the 1500s a busy tavern or whether he imposed himself on 'Weavers' over the way?  Boudica did similar before destroying Colchester a few years before this.  She gathered her troops around this area and then trashed the town.

 
St Leonard's Church, St Leonard was patron of prisoners apparently, was built and remodelled during the 19th century.  Some form of church building had begun sometime in the 12th century but this small agricultural village had little wealth and even by the 1600s the building  was in poor condition.  The present church, of the Liberal Catholic tradition, whatever that is, however is in fine condition and expanding to enable facilities for more to attend their business.  A bit too 'High Church' for me but a pleasant place to sit and talk to Jesus after wandering through the woodland.  It is always good to find such a church open, too many thieves force the buildings to be kept locked much of the time unless someone is attending them.

 

I found it interesting that in spite of the war memorial on the main road there were no individual war graves to be found.  It is possible I missed them, churches tend to let the grasses grow around this time of year to benefit the wildlife which struggle with the loss of farmland and the concreting of front gardens for car parking.  There were several gravestones indicating some of the people who resided here had held important posts during the 'Raj' and wished their grave to reflect their position.  How strange that class is reflected even in death.  However the Braintree weavers Courtaulds would have been pleased as the funerals would have been attended by many leading ladies wearing, and outdoing one another, with black dresses made from the Black Crepe which their local mills manufactured.  

 'Spring Lane' now a quiet side street as the new bypass has taken almost all traffic away offered some delightful cottages, once farm labourers homes now owned by those who can afford half a million I suggest.  The influence of Flemish weavers can be seen on many houses in Essex, their 'Dutch Roof' is a common sight here.  The Victorian semi detached would have been admirable for the farm hand as his several children, two up and two down and an outside loo to yourselves. I particularly liked the old street lamp being used at the side of the house.  The locals have put the old horse trough to good use.  Turning what could become an eyesore into a delightful piece of road furniture.

Waiting on the bus outside what once was the workhouse.  This was built on Jeremy Bentham principles it seems to me.  Four winds reached out from the centre, from here the men in charge could looked down each wing without having to change his position, 'Strangeways Prison' in Manchester was built on similar proposals.  The whole is surrounded by buildings forming a circle with the entrance, for the nice people at the front, I suspect inmates went in the back!  The building is seen on the 1877 map and now of course has been transformed into flats.  I wonder what stories could be told...?