Pineapples

Hmmm, funny how when I took that picture, the sun shining through the trees, the blue sky peeking in behind, it all seemed such a good idea.  Now that darkness reigns it has palled somewhat.  I wonder who thought of the idea of placing dirty big orbs on top of gateposts?  This was done around 1880 ish and some clever designer, not an architect I suggest, considers this the way to er, top off the gateposts.  In days of yore pineapples made of stone were used for this decoration.  The pineapple was an exotic fruit for far away and if you possessed one you were indeed wealthy.  Those who had excessive wealth therefore placed stone pineapples on walls, doors, houses, anywhere they would be seen.  Today you get your picture in 'Hello' or the 'daily Mail.'  The intellectual difference between such pictures and stone pineapples is minute, but the stone wins each time.

While ploughing through the update on the Great War memorial I also began to investigate the WW2 one.  Next year is the anniversary of the end of that war and we are doing something for it. My part will be smaller but I may have to search things out.  Typical, these wars come so close together.  I have not finished one and they are starting on another.  Something should be done.

Worse still there is less information on the second war strangely enough because while we all know about it individuals stories are still subject to Ministry of Defence restrictions.  Bah!

To enlighten my boring day I also cleared the ice from the freezer.  It had been building up somewhat and I managed to fill the sink with lumps of ice that took all night to thaw.  Such excitement, it could be worse, one day I must clean the oven.  Where are women when you need them...?  

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Big Town Again

'The Marquis' is a pub on the North Hill created out of a 16th century dwelling.  Timber framed, black and white frontage I didn't bother picturing as the sun hid at the time.  The doorway caught my attention, pub doorways do catch some of my readers attention I know, and this featured two faces, one carved into each wooden corner.  Whether for decoration or some other reason I fail to say because as usual I can find no info on this building online, just details of the pub itself.  However it appears they have preserved much similar woodwork inside.  I have to plead poverty of course and walk past in spite of searing hunger and exhaustion.

The plastic pipe is not 16th century.

This big beast is 'Jumbo!'  He once supplied the towns water but now is undergoing renovation as a home for some lucky (wealthy) person.  I cut off the bottom as it is hidden behind wooden fencing etc belonging to the developers.  The last time I looked every ledge all the way up was home to the pigeon, masses of them, and I suspect the first job will be to insert netting to prevent that if someone will actually live there.  The view from the top must be fantastic!  The town spread out beneath you, the river leading to the estuary in the distance, the roads running off in all directions and the rain clouds hiding all this from view!  The Romans were not keen on the weather either!

The Romans were keen on building however and also they became very keen on defence at this spot.  What is shown here are the remains of a Roman Gateway known today as the Balkerne Gate. Having invaded successfully in 43 AD the Romans settled down in their small city then known as Colonia Victricencis (City of Victory, but you knew that.)  This settlement was unfortified at the time, which was unfortunate as the Roman in charge upset a woman after her man, the local King, died.  He took all she had, raped her daughters and killed one or two.  As we all know that sort of thing means trouble.  Boudica decided to vent her wrath by burning  Colonia Victricencis to the ground, along with all therein. The only building to survive was the base of the basillica, this now forms the base of the 'castle.' Rome was not best pleased. After removing the Queen of the Iceni and her threat a wall was constructed around the town. She visited in 60/61 AD and the walls have been dated to around 65-80 AD. Lucky for us this almost complete gate survived by being hidden by overgrowth which preserved it in reasonable condition. Around a hundred years ago the structure was dug out and forms a real historical connection to the Roman era we have all read about. During Victorian times the then owner of the pub next door demolished half the wall to allow his guests to see the new railway. This brought him much in the way of custom then and abuse from history lovers today! It was then the pub became known as the 'Hole in the Wall.' The floor of the gateway has been somewhat modernised to cope with visitors and occasional repairs have taken place but most of the wall dates from the first century and reveals the Roman thoroughness when it came to defence. They did enjoy their engineering did the Romans.

Before the pub landlord intervened the gate was double in size and would possibly have been dedicated to the Emperor Claudius.  He had visited while claiming the victory of 43 AD and then received the surrender of the Britons there.  He then hopped of home before he caught cold.  He also named his son Britannicus, and hoped he would become heir, however the lad  was bumped him off later to prevent this.  That nice Tacitus tells us more about that intrigue.  This gate, the oldest and best preserved, faced west and lined up with Londinium, a place you may have heard off.  The opening on the left, a round room, possibly became the guard room but I wonder if anyone actually knows?  Do tell if you know.  The lads needed somewhere to hide when Joe Public was around didn't they?   I love the red bricks used by the Romans.  There are vast numbers on this wall, and indeed on many ancient buildings throughout areas they dominated.  These strong bricks have been reused in houses, walls and church buildings and stand out well.  The soldiers would have been the ones building the wall.  This kept them occupied in between bashing any who may have decided to rebel.  In 'Agricola,' Tacitus tells of his father in laws work in taming this island.  he is accurate in every detail I am sure.   

You wish a close up?  Sure!

A few modern bricks inserted to stop collapse in places but the nature of the structure clear from the top of the gate.  The road outside sinks away but this came from a more recent development, nevertheless the wall plus the previous ditch dug by the Britons left the defenders high above anyone who wished to attack.  The name Balkerne comes from 'baulk,' as in Roman times the gate was baulked up, closed up and sealed, other gates having come into preferred use it seems.  Road widening and later building or renovations have removed almost all traces of previous gates.  One or two remnants remain but nothing as good as this gate.  During excavations in the sixties when the road works were undertaken archaeologists discovered a great deal about the Roman occupation and later times.  They decided to make use of the gate and as the roadworks involved a bridge over the roadway many people pass through today.

More, much more, can be found at Camulos and that is worth a read to those who find such things fascinating.  I recommend this.

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Camulodunum

Camulodunum was very cold today, in spite of the weather man claiming the cold snap was lessening.  Here we see the wall forming the first defensive barrier.  Behind the land slopes up to where I suspect another barrier once stood.  Well it would have had I anything to do with it!

Not exactly straight!  Age has indeed wearied this wall which has lasted many years.

 

The variety of stones includes many slim red tiles.  These are Roman bricks I believe but I am too busy to check it out and I wonder if this forms part of the wall created as part of the new defences after Boudicca's revolt. 

   

Can you make out the thin layer of ice that lies on top of the river?

I wondered what this was at first.  The design and brickwork was typical 1950's and must have appeared very modern at the time.  It forms part of the Fire Station and while I am unsure as to whether it is a chimney or part of the training routine I found it strangely atmospheric of its time!

I was amazed by the lamp standards in this area.  Very dated and very badly maintained.  Much more attractive than the concrete type that appeared in the 50's, or would be if painted once again.

My meeting there was once again with a different person.   Yet another has walked off to tour the world and I am now on my fourth worker, and I suspect this will change to another next time I trundle along there.  Still this lass has plenty of common sense and a great deal of the females normal attitudes, she nagged me, browbeat me and was totally unreasonable in her demands!  However I am much encouraged by the news that the employment situation will worsen and 'bosses are losing staff' claim the press.  It did not mention where they lose them however.

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Door in the Wall

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Some people like doors and some people like brick walls. I like both! The walls are things I often bang my head against, usually meafo.. mentaph .metaphorl.. in my head, and sometimes in reality. The doors I tend to walk through, opening them first for the most part naturally. I am not sure if this door has been opened in a long time, I am standing in the church graveyard as I take the picture, and to walk through the door you may need permission from the various bodies concerned. Behind the wall lies a farm, although whether the wall belongs to the farm or the churchyard, the church is made of similar brick, I cannot say and I suspect you really don't care one way or the other. I suspect the farm belongs to the 'Big Hoose' that lies, surrounded by fir trees rather like a tall green wall, just down the road behind the farm. The Lord of the Manor in England liked to have his own church near by, even if there was a Parish Church available. Maybe the original house was through there and this was the main man's personal door to the service, who knows, and I again suspect you are beginning not to care! 


The amount of red bricks made in the south of England over the years, and particularly in the nineteenth century, must be enormous! Houses, churches, farms and industrial buildings, rail bridges and walls around the many manor houses and landed gentry's properties gave much work to bricklayers in times past. I suspect this is a nineteenth century wall, possibly built when the church was renovated in 1840. Such artisans would meet at weeks end in a designated public house and an offering of sixpence was collected into a fund. From this payment would be made when one of the men met with sickness, accident or distress. This is why there are so many pubs called 'The Bricklayers Arms.' I cannot remember what is the point of the big 'S' metal spar in the wall. I read about these once long ago and promptly forgot what I had read. I do this often. I cannot remember what is the point of the big 'S' metal spar in the wall. I read about these once long ago and promptly forgot what I had read. I do this often.

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A Wall

I have nothing to say. This is unfortunate as my fingers have got into the habit of bouncing across the keyboard, in no organised order, and keep doing so even if there is nothing to post, not e-mails to write and no begging letters to invent. so here is a picture of a wall.

I like this wall. In fact, since that Bolton steeplejack and his travels around British heritage, that is the industry of the past, mostly Victorian, I have been fascinated by brickwork. The Victorian brickie must never had a day off work! Buildings by the thousand were built as cities expanded, bridges for the railways, factories and countless work projects by government and local councils gave an opportunity to work anywhere in the nation. This church wall for instance is red brick, (and how many red bricks were used in the south of England?) with darker bricks used to create a simple pattern. Rail bridges nearby were built at awkward angles and the brickwork bends as the bridge crosses the line, and in many homes delicate towers and pillars are built in to the building as attractive pattern or to fit into awkward corners. The skill of the brickie from the past is without equal, today the brickie has a simple job as cost does not allow for the exhibition brickwork of the past. The brickie in late Victorian Britain got into the habit of joining with others for protection and help. All artisns did the same, paying sixpence or so a week into a fund, and when sick enabled to withdraw a few shilings a week to keep alive. Usually such gatherings occured in public houses which often became known as the 'Bricklayers Arms.'

Sat Staring at the Wall

Here I am sitting staring at the wall. Saturday afternoon has arrived and I have nothing to say and less to report. Where did the week go? Did anything happen? On Monday I noticed there was a long list written out awaiting my gentle touch, it is still there, waiting.

Actually some things have been done, attendance at the Dole to meet a bullying woman who attempted to give me a positive attitude. "Don't say 'Fail' when a job has turned you down, be positive!" she said. "OK," said I, "I am positive I failed there." She did not respond positively to this in my view. I also reported to the man who signs me on, and mentioned the bully. A somewhat vile grin crossed his face at this, he has known her for many years! His constant chuckling for the next twenty minutes were unnecessary in my view. Whether he accidentally mentioned 'Jackboots' I could not work out.

My main action was the second driving lesson that I undertook on Monday. In 1972 I almost took driving lessons as they were about to increase in price from £2 to £2:50. I did not have the cash, and then no cash and no time. In London I obtained a provisional licence and then discovered I could not afford lessons there although I did have a small Suzuki motorbike for a while. These Japanese things fall apart easily don't they? Anyway, as I could make Marble Arch in twenty mins walking at that time I decided against it. Learning to drive in London did not scare me much, it was just the other cars and those driving them that worried me. Now out here, where in some regards it is still 1964, I find cars are a necessary. Just to get away from the folks around me! It is also a requirement to drive in most jobs these days, merely to get to them. For reasons beyond my limited comprehension there are a vast number of small companies which have decided to base themselves miles from anybody else, either on disused airfields or farm buildings, or deliberately at a distance from human society. Possibly it is cheaper to rent the building but the cost of transport must equalise that!

So I drove along bendy country lanes, failing to work out how to change gear, push down the clutch and brake at the same time whenever a junction came upon us. Two hours of that and I was worn out for the day. The instructor muttered something about being tired out also from his position in the back seat. I should point out he did not intend to sit there but just outside of Thaxted I made a slight mistake and that's where he ended up. I hope that farmer and his tractor got out all right in the end. Do the 'AA' deal with farm machinery?

However, those small intrusions apart nowt else has occurred. I walked up to the far end of town and back down the old railway line passing occasional sweating joggers and lonely women with dogs and suspicious looks,the women not the dogs. I trailed through the shopping centre wondering why women find these places so entrancing. If there were shops selling worthwhile stuff it would be OK, but it is so mundane, and there are at least six charity shops. Now that is fine as that is where I look for books, although the cretins in this backwater tend to read vast quantities of empty headed wimmens fiction and little else. Occasionally I come across a beauty, the last was John van der Kiste's 'Kaiser Wilhelm II' which was a worth while read although a bit too concise I thought. Did he really start the Great War because he was an imperialist bully, or was he just a weak man easily led by his officer corps who, like the French, wanted war? I go for the latter as with or without the Kaiser war was inevitable with the imperial and patriotic pride that coursed through everyone's veins at that time. There are few books available usually, maybe I should try a Rosalind Pincher or a Margaret Atwood and see how I react? I suspect I will be inspired to get a Kalashnikov and run riot through the streets removing those who read such stuff from the world.

I have looked at houses on the web as this is the time to buy one. It's not that I have any money but I foolishly bought a Lottery ticket and am now indulging in those dreams of what it would be like to possess things again. Now I am not claiming to worship Mammon or anything like that but think of the good you could do with all that money - from that island in the Mediterranean that I would buy with it - would be a blessing to many folks. It would of course also be nice not to live off the nation, and be able to pay back what I take out, and that is a guilt trip for some of us, it would of course be good to be rich rather than handsome for a change. What did you say at the back there?

Ah money, that reminds me I had better wander round to the market, it will be closing now and the left overs will be getting sold of cheap and other greedy folk will be picking up all the damaged veg and fruit before I get there. Selfish I calls them! Then I can come back and stare at the wall and try and think of something worth writing.