City Churches

While I dozed on the high speed express hindered by nothing more than signal problems, people throwing themselves in front of trains and lack of drivers/guards my mind considered St Michael, Cornhill.  This is because many moons ago I came across the excellent Great War Memorial found at the door.  

And what a door!  
St Michael stands on what was in Roman London the Basilica, the centre of Roman administration.  The name Cornhill comes from the hill itself, difficult to see in today's world, and the Corn Market that stood here in the distant past.  A church stood on this spot long before William the Conqueror arrived which was unfortunate as that Great Fire, so often mentioned, came along and burnt it to the ground in 1666 leaving only the Tower standing.  Christopher Wren is said to have rebuilt the church but this is disputed, and he had dozens of others on the go so maybe his men did the work, who knows.  The work on the tower ('in the Gothick manner') was also said to be Wrens but this was completed by Nicholas Hawksmoor. 

 
Again it's a case of looking upwards as I suppose the worshiper was meant to do but it does harm the neck muscles after a while.   All London churches have connections to the various guilds, this one was connected to the 'Drapers' and in Victorian times they were forced to spend money on the building or hand it over to the Ecclesiastical Commissioners.  There is no surprise that they chose the building and instructed Sir Gilbert Scott, indicating how much they had, to improve the church.  His work saw the improved door facing Cornhill with carving from John Birnie Philip above the entrance showing St Michael disputing with satan.  

 
The Lord himself is seen just above the door ratheroffering a sign of peace we cannot know he ever offered, but it makes sculptors happy.  As you may expect the door was firmly shut to passersby and while the church boasts that it opens on Sunday, one of the few that do, and appears to open during the week while I stand outside the door remains firmly shut.

Nothing for it but to admire the war memorial once again.  This statue can be found elsewhere, I have seen photographs occasionally of such Roman soldiers on guard at memorials, yet it speaks of the vast money available after the war from parishioners and the Drapers to commemorate their dead and that reveals something of the effect the war had on the people contributing.  That war affects us to this day!

"The names were recorded on this site of 2130 men who from 

 offices in the parishes of this united Benefice volunteered to serve 

their country in the Navy and Army.  Of these it is known that at 

least 170 gave their lives for the freedom of the world." 

The church was not damaged during the Blitz and while marks on the walls indicate possible war damage, often found on London buildings, this Masons Mark stands out on this stone.  I wonder what date this comes from, the time after the Great Fire most likely but possibly one of the renovation periods perhaps.  The narrow passage to the right of the entrance where this can be seen is one of many found in the City, maybe one day I will go back and photograph these.  

This, as you may guess, is St Mary Woolnoth, another that closed its doors to me.  This baroque looking building was erected in 1727 by Nicholas Hawksmoor, he has been busy aint he?  This was not the first church structure here as Roman and pagan finds show this spot had a religious use in times past.  The Norman's as you know built in stone within ten years of arrival to cow the natives and remind them who was the power in the land.  Until then the Saxons would have created a wooden church as that was the readily available building material and stone was expensive.  The 'Woolnoth' in the name may be a reminder of a Norman gent living here in the 12th century who was probably the local Lord of the manor.  
Between 1897 and 1900 the Underground reached this area and 'bank' station was built part of which included escalators reaching under the church.  Public disquiet stopped the railway company's planned demolition of the church and steel pillars were inserted to keep the building safe.  
However during an air raid at 8pm on the 11th of January 1941 a bomb managed to break through into the booking hall not far beneath the roadway.  Further the explosion made its way down the escalators onto the platform killing and wounding many.   Figures vary but some claim 51 died while total casualties (dead, wounded and missing) were 111.  Others claim 111 were the dead, I go with 51 as most fail to understand the word casualties.  This information was I understand withheld at the time and released only after the end of the war.

Among those connected with the church in times past were William Wilberforce who spent a great many years fighting against the slave trade worshiped here and John Newton a man who once ran a slave ship but accepting Jesus as Lord gave evidence against the trade, evidence that led finally to Britain opposing it stoutly.  Newton became incumbent here between 1780 until 1807 the year of his death.  His previous Parish had been at Olney and while preparing for the Wednesday night meetings he would often attempt to find a new song.  One night he produced 'Amazing Grace' a song that has summed him up perfectly and become a favourite worldwide.  The music as we know it was added much later by one William Walker long after Newtons death. 

Like many churches in this area the front door is hidden down narrow passages and while a wee bit wider here we find St Stephen Walbrook hiding quietly behind the Mansion House.  The 'Walbrook' is one of London's lost rivers which have long since been 'culvertised,' indeed this one since the 16th century, and even today while the stream still flows it was added to the sewage workings of the 19th century when a massive improvement was undertaken.
The church itself like most others around here goes back into the mists of time.  Burnt down by the Fire Christopher Wren spent almost £8000 rebuilding the place in splendid style including a central dome not unlike the one he placed in St Paul's.  Little damage occurred during the blitz and this was soon repaired.
However the church's fame in recent years comes from one Chad Varah who became rector in 1953 and remained here for fifty years.  Varah's fame spread after he conducted a funeral for a 13 year old suicide who had misunderstood her periods thinking she had a venereal disease.  From this time on he offered an emergency service for desperate folks known to us as the 'Samaritans.'  Here he led volunteers in a full and frank teaching regarding the problems of London life including frank sex talk, which shook some early volunteers, and the great London need of loneliness.  These have not changed much over the period.  
A man of mixed blessings he had a finger in many activities although his theology was a bit skewwiff from what I can make out however his concern for others was great.  By 2004 Varah's connection to the Samaritans ended as he felt it was not the organisation he had created.  Varah and his wife Susan continued their many 'good works' until their deaths, his at the age of 96 in 2007.

One church that was open on Saturday was the tourist attraction that is St Paul's.  I avoided this as I canny stand tourists!

Look!  A church with an open door!  'St Vedas-Alias-Foster' who else?  Somewhat typically this was a church of the Anglo Catholic tradition which being over the road from St Paul's saw the sense in remaining open when tourists flocked to the eating places next door and sought a moment of quiet.

Sadly I thought this somewhat disappointing as this type of collegiate design does not reflect churches as we should know them.  However being badly damaged during the blitz, only a shell remained, the contents were rescued from other blitzed churches which did not recover from the war damage.  Therefore it is a good example of salvage as well as a rebuilt church.  As I said this was open, the only one I found, and it appears to me that if any church in the City of London can get the volunteers to keep it open a small £1 'donation' charge could provide a decent income during the summer at least.  The use of freewill donations may bring cash but not a great deal.  Some of course resent being charged to enter a church but many of these fail to notice the 'donation box' at the back.  
St Vedas as you may know was a leader of the church at Arras in the 6th century and he was the one credited with rebuilding the church after years of Roman and tribal fighting.  The King of the Franks, called 'Clovis' was converted by him it is said.  
This church may have originated with the Flemish weavers who arrived during the 12th and 13th centuries.  Wool was King then and the English with masses of sheep wool to export brought Flemish weavers here to develop the economy.  The Lord Chancellor, and now the 'Speaker' of the House of Lords sits on the 'Woolsack' an idea that may have begun in the 14th century when Edward III caused his Lord Chancellor to sit on this to remind everyone of the importance of wool to the economy.   
Strangely the church was damaged and left a shell by the 1666 fire but was repaired satisfactorily without recourse to Christopher Wren which indicates they probably did not have the money to employ someone of his stature.   

Lovely glass windows with a Victorian appearance possibly because some glass was saved after the blitz and reused in the renovation during the 1950's.  

 
This somewhat miserable looking tower standing between modern blocks of concrete and glass is one of the most famous churches in the world.  'St Mary'le'Bow' the church where it is said that if you are born within the sound of its bells you are a 'Cockney.'
The church stood here in Saxon times, a wooden structure surrounded by wooden houses all of which suffered great damage from the Tornado that arrived in 1091.  600 homes destroyed, church rafters embedded in the ground, London Bridge demolished and yet only two were killed on that occasion.
Considered to be the second church in importance after the nearby St Paul's and at the risk of repeating myself I have to say the building burnt down during the Great Fire and Sir Christopher Wren rebuilt this one first as it was of such importance.  The 'Bow belles' the word 'Bow' comes from the arches on the old building, the bells recorded in 1926 can still be heard on the BBC occasionally and I think I am right is saying that when 'Big Ben' is out of order for any reason these bells are used by the BBC to tell the time.  Hearing these bells via the BBC when being born does not make you a Cockney!  The Germans attempted to stop the bells by dropping bombs on the church but these were reinstated by 1956 and the church continued as always.  It was of course closed when I passed.

She must have been a strong woman!

A Mill, A Bull, A Pond and A Church

Townsford Mill stands on a spot used by mills of many types going back centuries.  It is thought grain was first milled here in the midst of agricultural land but over the years weaving became the norm.  Samuel Courtauld, one of a family of Unitarians, became sole owner in 1825, one of many mills he was to possess, and soon developed a powerful steam worked silk mill one of the biggest in the country.  However by 1850 foreign competition hit deep into his output this led to a development of Black Crepe often used in funerals, which with a stroke of luck brought him much profit when prince Albert died.  With Victoria descending into deep mourning the nation followed on and Courtauld's Black Crepe was in much demand.  The Mill soon employed over 1400 women using a thousand looms.  Weaving of one sort or another continued until 1982 and soon after the closure the antiques people moved in and what a success this has become.

 
Where once a thousand looms deafened the girls working them now a variety of units peddle items some of which my family still put to good use.  Imaging how many items now considered 'antique' are still lying abode the abode?  There is a restaurant in the bottom and two floors of junk valuable items much of what I found very interesting and a great deal of it not too expensive either.  If I had money and wall space I could have gone for several pictures and the number of books on show tempted me, I kept telling myself to go back to charity shops for them.  After wandering I retrieved my bag from reception, they somehow did not trust me, and asked the young lady about the gun she had by her side.  A rifle of great age lay there which she said she kept for troublesome customers. she waved it in the direction of her friend who ran for it.  However  it turns out to be a toy!  An expensive toy for a young lad 150 years or more ago I suspect.  I decided not to buy as getting on a bus these days with a rifle gets funny looks from others I find.

These two houses are part of a row which Samuel Courtauld built for his workers.  He was not penny pinching when he asked George Sherrin to build them in 1883 was he?  I suspect the more loyal workers with their families were placed in here.  Courtauld employed 70 men and boys as well as the women, many of those rescued from London's workhouses and offered jobs in Essex.  Long hard hours for seven shillings and sixpence may not seem much now but it was better than a life on the street which was the future for many of the girls otherwise at that time.  The weavers cottages from yesterday were probably built by him for his workers also.

     
 Amazing how dingy clearish brown water runs up to the mill but on the other side the river is overgrown all the way along.  Reed clutter the river bed and had I the energy I would have walked along for a few miles to see a bit of countryside.  Instead I came upon this bedraggled old building once a hive of industry and now awaiting its fate.

Originally part of the railway yard this large double sized building looks derelict and rather sad at the moment.  This is a reflection on how important railways were to industry in times past as the goods yard was big for such a town and business must have been brisk.  Today little remains although one or two station building have been reused, however I suspect few under seventy remember the line in operation.

Some folks like it however.  Three windows had such a bird taking ownership of the place.  Plenty large windows to go round for everybody.

As I avoided spilling my lunch in the Bull Inn I gazed at the thick aged beams that hung above me.  These may have been part of the original building when created in the 1400's.  Imagine, in spite of adaptions and renovations over the years, imagine how many have supped here over the past seven centuries?  Impossible to miss at the bottom of the hill the bridge over the river is outside the door and I wonder if any careless driver or runaway horse and cart have clattered into the Bull?  I can see many drivers of both horse and car doing so.  

  
Waiting at the door for the taxi to come through...

 
The public gardens are well maintained by the excellent council workforce and here the memorial to the lost of WW2 is found.  A small four sided plinth is engraved with the names of the lost and the gardeners have created this magnificent Lancaster Bomber as tribute to the airmen who lost their lives.  Apparently this is the second Lancaster, the year before that a Glider was made.  I see this as a magnificent gesture and who knows what they have in mind for the next one. 
Well done to the council gardeners!

The gardeners also maintain the excellent pond which has found favour with several ducks.  So happy are they that mum has produced at least four chicks who stumble around the pond searching for lunch.  Kids are always hungry, at least when it suits them.

Not far from the pond stand the disused Holy Trinity Church.  The architect one Sir George Gilbert Scott a man famous for many buildings such as the Midland Hotel, The Foreign & Commonwealth Office and the Albert memorial.  This was one of his earlier works in 1843/44 and now stands bare and rather sad.  The outside is impressive but as almost everything relevant has been removed the building is in the care of The Churches Conservation Trust.

It was as I turned and looked down the nave that I suddenly became rather depressed by the disconsolate appearance a disused church has.  It matters not that this was a 'High Church' in times past (It appears a golden cross was offered  for processions and some objected, possibly the protestant types. This cross soon disappeared and was later found bent over in the River Colne.  It was returned to the vicar in 1911 and soon back in use.)  

One of the few remaining items is the Great War Memorial which appears to be still made use off.

Some people have not been forgotten.

 

Scott had a sense of humour it seems to me.  Just what encouragement these faces high above every pillar in the church gave I am unsure.  There was a variety of faces and I winder if he had someone in mind for each of them?  Were they posed I wonder?

 
OK, you can wake up now.  No more from Halstead that I will show.

A Criticism.

Daily Telegraph

The Tower of London has become the scene of what is described as an 'artwork' commemorating the First World War.  This was as you will recall involved the United Kingdom from the 4th of August 1914 right up to the armistice at 11 am on the 11th day of November 1918.  Around 10 million died, possibly many more.  The UK lost 750,000 soldiers plus men at sea and in the air. Between the armistice and the beginning of the Second World War on the 3rd of September 1939 thousands more died of the effects of war through gas inhalation or wounds that never truly healed.  Guilt at actions taken, guilt at surviving while others died, stress, unbalanced minds and the difficulty of relating to those around them also caused death and suffering to the survivors.  Those who remained at home also changed, and change was in the air before the war, they too suffered even though for many life improved.  The twenties did not see a better life for the returning'heroes,' often unemployment and despair were their lot.  They had returned victorious having won the the war and found despair all too often.

To commemorate this event the museums, churches, military organisations, football clubs and others have organised a variety of events.  Most are heartfelt and represent individuals and organisations who commemorate the fallen annually.  Some however worry me. This display at the Tower has brought thousands to walk around admiring the poppies.   People travel from across the nation to see the event, and that is for me the worry, 'the event.'  For many this commemoration will be just another event, like the queens jubilee or some royals wedding.  An event in which those who participate enjoy the spectacular more than the commemoration.  

The UK has in recent years began to remember fallen troops in a manner that had passed away in the 60's.  Northern Ireland, the Falklands and the Iraq and Afghanistan conflicts have brought home the men who serve and the cost they pay.  However for far too many exhibitions such as that at the Tower do not commemorate, indeed they celebrate and offer something interesting to see and enjoy but takes away from what the Great War actually meant to those who were there.  

Armistice Day will dawn, the events will cease, many exhibitions close, plays run their course and then the nation will return to the daily grind and forget once again.  The 'event' has ended. 

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HA! Found it!

The cold northern wind did not hinder my desire to once again return to the cemetery down the road. Being 'Good Friday,' a designation I still think unsuitable, the streets were quieter than usual and the sun shining early in the bright blue sky above made for a delightful outing.  Once at the destination I again was happy to sit and listen to the birds singing in the trees all around. The trees and large bushes in the old part were once small seedlings planted lovingly behind a tombstone, now the reach to the skies in some cases and the birds happily make their homes there.  Such birds at this time of the year in the UK have a delightful cheery song and the variety of the voices is wide.  The fact that one is chasing his woman and another threatening all around that this is 'his patch' is unknown to most of us listening and probably smiling smugly.  The cheery, cheeky bird that takes crumbs from your lunch is just as willing to hump anyone else's partner or thump any who get too close to anything that belongs to him.  These creatures are a wee bit more human than we think!

While stumbling through the undergrowth I decided to venture forth into the darkness under a large round tree or bush, sadly my knowledge of tree names is poor.  There to my delight and indeed surprise I found the man I had been looking for!  The reason he had been difficult to trace was simple, he was almost in front of me!  However I am happy now that part of the job is complete and his billing has been finished.  The surprise is the address given is that of the old workhouse.  Later this was converted into houses but was it like that in his day?  Confusion reigns here.  Certainly his grave is wide, a woman I take to be his mother joined him in 1924, and it is possible one of his six siblings may have joined later but the names being omitted or unreadable on what I could actually see here.  A grave that size indicates money was available and with a funeral today costing around £5000 how much would this cost back then?  Someone had cash under the mattress I wonder.

Nothing much else happened but I was intrigued by the woman, along with two children, who found themselves in the middle of the lion enclosure at a safari park when the car caught fire.     
The lions the report says, could not take their eyes of the burning car.  Hmmm freshly roasted dinner lions, yummy!

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The Little White Dot

Can you see the little white dot in the far distance?  I saw it this morning and once again was touched by the feeling of loneliness this dot inspired.  As early as my bones would stand it I cycled off, against the cold north wind, down to Bocking Cemetery.  I was looking for one of the two remaining dead soldiers to complete the collection of fallen from the two wars. Unfortunately neither have the normal war grave tombstones as both are buried in family plots. From a picture on another memorial site, now removed as the owner has left the town and moved to bigger things.  I knew he was buried near a hedge.  There is no hedge!  It must be an ivy covered wall, the wall exists but his grave does not! The search is not helped by the council eco friendly idea of allowing the older part of the cemetery to go 'wild' for the sake of flora and fauna.  This helpful idea limits visibility of the stones that lie an inch or two off the ground.  Bah! Nothing found so I will venture forth after better preparation next time. Someone has a map of the plots in the council! 

      

So instead I pondered Private Bennett lying here alone, far from home, isolated in a pathway of freshly cut grass among a few local worthies and chirping birds and fluttering butterfly's.  I know his regiment was formed in Hamilton for 'Home Defence,' that is there was no intention to go overseas to fight.  This type usually comprising older, married men, with the simple intent of stopping Germany invading.  In 1916 the Division was transferred from their homeland to defend the south east of England, the most likely place for invasion, and spent some time watching Zeppelins pass by and drop a bomb or two.  The 2/6th Cameronians were billeted in Terling, a small village about four miles south of Braintree.  How I ask did this man end up in Bocking cemetery?  I can trace no information of any kind, and this is annoying me.  A while back I sent the information with photos to the Cameronians Museum but they could tell me nothing.  

Could it be an accident during training, that would be hushed up army style of course.  It may well be he suffered a pre-existent condition which took him out, and an injury of illness may have seen him placed in one of the local VAD (Voluntary) Hospitals that sprung up during the war.  That at least would explain why he was buried here.  

I sat for a while in the restful quiet, cheerful birds chirping and distant traffic the only noise. How was he buried?  Did a few orderlies from the hospital give him a 'basic,' but considerate funeral? Could it be that a detachment of his Company arrived, led by a piper perhaps, sloped arms, while pallbearers carried him to the grave.  Would the padre, and some say the Cameronians were mostly Catholics but I have no proof of this, would the padre say a few words about the 'resurrection and the life,' and 'he who believes in me will live?'  Was a rifle volley of blanks fired over the grave, a trumpeter blowing the 'Last Post,' and did the men march away, heads bowed, thoughtful perhaps, and leave their comrade alone, so very alone? 

Hamilton in 1916 was very far away.  Any family who wished to visit could do so, if they had the money, could get on a train, find accommodation, and take the time to travel so far.  Was he married, children perhaps?  So many questions and so far no answers.  

The war has left many men far from home and often alone and forgotten, so our Private Bennett is not alone in this.  Six men from the wars lie in this ground, one young woman also, another pile of unanswered questions there. As for Bennett, once he departed this life he ceased to worry about loneliness, it is the relatives and friends who have the stress.  His thoughts would be occupied elsewhere.

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Fluttering Butterfly

The Tortoiseshell Butterfly is a handsome chap, or chapess I am not sure, but he, or she, is not intended to live in my bed chamber.  He came in through the open window the other day when the air was warmer than today, I discovered him on the curtains at night.  In itself this is not a problem as he normally would leave the next day following the route he took to get here however the light at night attracted him into the shade, possibly to cool off as you know it's cooler in the shade.  He rummaged around there ion and off, occasionally flitting about the room annoying me and generally being a pest. The last two nights he has lived there, rent free, so today I removed him from his temporary dwelling and after taking his photo for recognition purposes, his fingerprints were a bit more troublesome, I edged him through the window.  At this I felt guilty.  The weather she is cooler, he himself looked tired and weary after his tanning session, and I am now concerned in case he fell to the ground weary and became an evening meal for one of the local birds.  

I have spent many hours today researching a war memorial.  This involved finding, reading and copying bits of a book re an attack by the Welsh Guards. Hours I spent looking for the right bit, then followed this with more reading for another man who fell in the Sharon Plain.  All day I spent on this and have only got to the fourth man on the list when I discover someone already has done much of the work! Quite why he has not made this clear I know not the great lump! My efforts are not in vain as I a sure I can jazz it up a wee bit for him. Nice to know however that some people are willing to expend some time in researching their village history.

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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