Searching Finchingfield for the Dead...

Cruel people might imply searching in 'The most beautiful village in England' would soon come across several dead people, I sadly only found one I was looking for.  The village, plus the neighbouring 'Cornish Hall End' contain around 1500 people, so it is not for fast living people.  There are however three pubs, two tea shops and a duck pond with a medieval bridge across it.
I however was in the village partly to get out of town and see something different and partly to find the graves of three dead men.  It keeps me off the streets you see.

   
Getting of the hourly bus, only two on the service, one each way, the usual type of drivers, one decent the other a bit miserable, but a forty minute drive through the countryside was what I wanted even if the bus windows had not been cleaned since August.  
On arrival I quickly found the one time United Reformed Church with graveyard attached.  Being quite small it did not take a lot of searching and soon I found my first man.  Horace joined the Essex Yeomanry, the Territorial Cavalry in 1913, many farm hands experienced with horses did so, and served through four years of war.  Clearly he had been wounded as by 1918 he was with a Labour Company in East Anglia and rather unfortunately was caught by the Flu pandemic and died in Norwich hospital.  It is quite an experience to stand by the grave of someone you now know where as before he was just a name on a list.  

The advantage of the small country village is the countryside, here at the back of the cemetery I could see in the distance a Woodpecker attempting rather bemusedly to head bang a telegraph pole. It could be he was eating insects from the crack in the wood but he appeared a bit confused from a distance.

  
I noticed the nearby villages also had these large Poppies adorning various posts.  This appeared a good idea to me but made me wonder if they will appear next year when no special remembrance is forthcoming.  The houses you will notice in the middle of the village go back several hundred years, most of these are now commercial premises and in summer the front is lined up with motorbikes of all descriptions.  The winding hilly roads around here are great for bikers but not for cyclists.  

   
One of the museum girls was here at the remembrance on Sunday as one of her sons is a member of the kids groups who were attending.  I am not sure hew as to aware of what was going on or keen to be there myself.  However the traffic stopped and the ceremony went ahead and then they trooped up to the church up the steep hill for a service.  The traffic did not stop for me.

You may guess that the red brick building now goes by the name 'Old School House' and in my mind is quite large for a village of the size even if Victorian families had large numbers of children.  They did however come in from the farms and area round about I suppose.  Next door is what was the United Reformed Church and is now some kind of health centre whatever that means.  The huge tree almost covering the front door is behind a garden wall.  Did the build the wall after the church? Or was it some rude Anglican deliberately attempting to hinder entrance to the Reformed building?  I suppose we will never know.

  
The village parish council or whoever was in charge has done well for themselves this weekend, here we see one of those invisible soldiers and several large poppies floating in the pond, a pond all the fallen will have been well acquainted with.  I suspect many lived in the houses just to the right out of shot but I have not got time to search the census to confirm this, and that does not always make identifying individual houses easy.  

Lovers of 18th century post mills will love this one dominating the skyline.  It no longer operates but must have produced a vast amount of flour from the farms around.  Where did it all go?

The view towards the 'Fox Inn' right in the village centre and up towards the Old School House then across the village green indicates the reason people consider the village 'pretty.' It also reveals something of how small the place was in the past, even though it has been here since medieval times and even had a Roman Villa close by, the farming is good obviously.  No wonder almost all those on the war memorial were farm hands.  As the roads going out have a short run of aged buildings also it does provide an excellent place to stop when the sun is out.  

Wandering about the damp grass of a churchyard built on a hill is not a great deal of fun I can tell you.  Slippery grass and slopes do not make me smile, not when I go flying on them anyway.  The fruitless search for two white war grave stone was a waste of time, they did not exist, I am now aware that they lie in private graves.  Having been a clever boy and left behind the details of the men I was searching for I could only guess at the names and therefore did not find them.  One moss covered stone did however indicate a name not found on the war memorial.  Many people for a wide variety of reasons did not put their names on memorials, I will have to investigate this tomorrow.  

My hour in the sun was coming to a close as what the BBC Weather man claimed was 'Light Cloud' was beginning to cover the sun.  The door being unlocked I entered the somewhat gloomy church to browse.

The gloom was broken by these invisible men sitting there.  I am told the preacher mentioned a simple fact that spoke to many, the men who died 'probably came to this church, christened, attended, sat where you sit.'  For many that brought home the reality of the men who fell.  

The effort put on by the village never ends!  I cannot imagine what this place will be like when Christmas or Easter arrives!  Is such an event only possible because the place is small and all know one another, all who make he effort that is?  Or was it a heartfelt response?  I wonder how many people named on the memorial have relatives living in the village today?

 
This picture is as close as I could get to the gloom inside the building.  I did not notice any lighting above but there again I was not looking for that, maybe on Sundays it is brightened, and maybe the sun shining in will brighten the place.

This Victorian stained glass window will brighten the place if the sun shines directly though.

Another quick look, not missing the collection of stones from people of the 'Big Hoose' up the road, and giving a good idea of the depth of the hill coffins have to go down and are still doing so even recently.

Then while awaiting the transport back home I had lunch at the 'Fox Inn' conveniently placed at the bus stop.  The beer was acceptable, £4 a go however was like the graveyard a bit steep I thought,  but the place was clean and set out more for lunches than as a straight forward pub.  I suspect that is how to survive in such places and I am told the reviews are good.  The Bikers like it anyway especially with a tea shop next door for the non drinkers.

 
There is something about the collection of roofs that appeal to me when close together in a higgledy-piggledy fashion.  The fact that they are all red tiles is also interesting, I wonder if there are listed buildings today.  I suspect some of them, when filled with farm labourers, had dirt floors and outside loos, today from as cheap as a mere £350,000 or so unless you want a bigger one of course...

    
This was at the church door, I wonder who he was...?

This was intended as a day out in the sun finding something interesting to see.  Yet while I knew the graves had to be found I did not realise so much of Sunday would remain.  Maybe I should go out again tomorrow...no maybe next week...

Remembrance Continues

On Friday I sauntered out because the BBC Weather forecast was for gray clouds.  I took this picture from underneath one of the wonderful trees planted in the 1800's for one of the Courtauld's.  The public gardens were then part of his garden donated to the town amidst much celebration, fireworks plus bonfire and drinking I suspect.   The trees planted were many and various and the result was something the gardener responsible never saw which is a pity as they are marvellous.  They also keep the big black cloud that drops gallons of water on people at bay.  Interesting how the man driving the grass cutter went faster as the rain got heavier.

This morning, minus rain, I went to the main parish church where a war exhibition was on.  One interesting aspect was putting these notes, each of a name from the war memorial, on the pews.  This brings home to people the cost of war and how it affected the town.  An excellent idea.  Another good idea was the show of pictures and letters from relatives of those who attend the church being put on display.  Many survived, one in five remember died during 14-18, and the letters give an insight concerning those who were there.  The stiff upper lip is rare today as is the normal practice of the terms 'Mother' or 'Father' for parents, we are more informal today.

I thought it a wonderful display with a wide variety of items covering all sides in the war.  The rat sniffing at the tins of 'Bully beef' was a nice touch and I was glad no lice were running free at the time, if there were I suspect tomorrows service will be interesting. 

 This I found interesting, it is a field kitchen.  A Frenchman invented this during the Crimean war (that's 1854 to you) and it has been in use ever since.  This one was made in the early 50's and they were used until recently when other means are employed.  The MOD keeps a store of them in reserve still.  A simple yet effective means of heating a large amount of stew/soup or whatever is lying around.  The wood goes in the hole at the side, the soup in the top where a large removable pot contains the goods and the smoke goes up the chimney, simple and effective, all great inventions are always simple.  This belongs to one of the church goers at this church, he has a Nissen hut, a trench and a wide variety of other war material at home.  I must visit one day!  Good job his lovely wife shares his enthusiasm!

 
As expected there is a window given to commemorate the men who fell, donated by a local worthy who spent much of his money on the town and worked hard as a councillor, and he was a powerful one, to improve things.  These days rich people keep their money to themselves.

Rushing home slowly through the centre I found the British Legion stand was still there from yesterday.  This time a lass sang, and sang very well, songs from the 40's to accompany the people ignoring her, not counting the mother dancing with a toddler.  I chatted with one of our 'heroes' for a while and with another who was there yesterday.  These ex-army men, who fought no war, just army bureaucracy and senior officers, were a delight to talk to.  A great many people of all ages were interested.

One of the men had created these models, you cannot see the legs sticking out from under the tank unfortunately, but I thought them a wonderful piece of work.

A wonderful collection.  Mind you I sometimes wonder about those that collect weapons.  These men understand them, they have personal meaning to them but there are others who one sometimes regards as somewhat barmy and it may be best they don't have weapons on them, even broken ones.  Back home to discover more people asking info on their great uncle or whatever.  There is a joy in discovering a connection to a name on a memorial, a strange joy but I understand this.  There may be more in days to come.  Tomorrow it is St Paul's remembrance service, I have supplied some info, and then the town gathering at the memorial in the afternoon.   You might read about that tomorrow...

Dead Men Tell tales...

 

I have spent much time avoiding the sun, head down over the laptop searching for dead men.  There are plenty around, in fact they are all over the place, we never appear to run out of them.  I am reminded of one wit who, in a creepy tone  reminded his listeners that the dead outnumber the living, what is worse it that their numbers are growing all the time.   When you consider that in the twentieth century, which seems so long ago now, it was customary to identify and bury the war dead we forget that for centuries before this often a less organised system operated.  The winning side may have dug one grave and marked this for their men while being less caring for the opposition.  Each culture followed their own ideas.  Only the other day I read of a grave in Poland of dead Russian solders killed in action and buried reasonably well in the circumstances but with little marking it appears.  In hot countries it was the thing to strip bodies and reuse material and later gather the bones together, many just left them for the dogs of course.

Sometimes I wonder if we treat the war dead in those large cemeteries better than we do the men who survived?  After the war men were sent home with a few pounds as a 'gratuity' and thanks for coming and left to their own devices, today there is some help at 'debriefing' but I winder if it is enough and do men take it?  I doubt our government cares, caring costs too much!

Tomorrow I will leave aside the dead and work on something a bit more cheery.

The end of the Hot Spots in sight.  Up north rain has teemed down and I have enjoyed sending pics such as this to my friends.  Well they were friends before I sent the pics.  Today clouds hung about for a while and normal temps appear.  I might be able to go out properly now!   This is a shame as I was enjoying watching the half naked women  young children playing in the sun, they were so happy running around the park.  

The heat changes the way we look at life.  Our outlook is affected by the climate and geography in which we grow.  Peoples living high up in mountain regions do appear to have a tough outlook on life, Australians in the 'Bush' also develop this and like to show a droll humour to go with it, something lacking maybe in those in the mountains?  What does that make city dwellers raised in comfort and ease?  Those raised in a land where it rains, clouds go gray easily, and cold winds find openings you never knew about have their own individual outlook on life... 

It's Been Dreich Today.

Collecting the fruit and veg (eat mangos before they go off by 5 O'clock) in a dreich misty day again.

It was the same yesterday.  At least it keeps the park free from adolescents all day and all night.

However while Thursday began misty by lunchtime I could keep my window open all day and not freeze.  This is December!  Who says there is no global warming?  

The Friends of the Museum hold a raffle each Christmas to raise money for the museum and rip off daft people who pay 50p for a ticket, books of 4 tickets are available.  Naturally at this great draw there are many prizes, around 40 this year so I was keen to get my hands on one.  Naturally being there I participated as did all others in picking occasional tickets from the large black bag in which someone had placed them having spent the day folding them first.  Naturally I got nothing!  The fact that four people obtained two prizes each, one at least who wins every year, did not annoy me, although it annoyed others.  Instead I approached them and asked if they would share a Lottery ticket with me on the biggest Million Pound draw, naturally they refused!

Instead I returned to work on one of the village war memorials, although this is not really a village these days.  Black Notley lies a wee bit to the south of the town but few realise that much of the town actually comes under the village itself.  It took me a while to grasp this.  That is why several men who fell in two wars appear not on the main war memorial but on the Black Notley one.  The village remains a village, much larger than in times past, but the few streets and huddle of houses of 1914 are now large estates of council, or ex-council homes.  
This is a memorial I worked on a few years ago.  I obtained the basics, printed it off as I ought, and then lost the link!  So when someone mentioned their ancestor was one of the men here I looked again and discovered the loss of link.  In fact three other village links have gone west.  I gave one to the lass at a villages museum and forgot about it but in fact I must have deleted the links, all the gathered information and lost everything.  I now must start them all again!
Good job the villages were small...Bah!

 
 

Drizzling Dunmow

Drizzle is not the ideal weather in which to wander around looking at old buildings, only someone with a lump of wool for a brain would do such a thing. 
I caught the 9:10am bus!
For half an hour we wended our way passing ploughed fields and acres of grass, rolling hills and rows of trees decorated with rust coloured leaves, many littering the roadside as we pass.  Typical Essex villages with houses dating back before the English Civil War, the churches a great deal older.  

This interesting building rears it head round the corner from the main street and appears to be the 16th century Town Hall.  I can see no other reason for such a delicate but expensive building to have been erected here.  The town was a commercial success in medieval times, a market was established and prosperity has never left the town, it is a step up from Braintree I tell you.

I doubt these delicate looking lodges were here when the Romans established the settlement on the crossroads.  The town was a days march from Braintree and ideal for a stopping place and once they had moved back home to defend the empire the Saxons quickly arrived and continued to make use of the agricultural lands.  Agriculture would have been a major occupation over the piece however pigs were also a major part of the commerce.
Not far from the town, Great Dunmow if you have not worked it out yet, lies the village of 'Little Dunmow, where the one time pub is called the 'Flitch of Bacon.' This relates the tale of the 'Flitch Trials' in which a couple have to testify before judges who have been married in church and over the last year have remained 'unregreted' the marriage.  The winners then receive half a pig, a 'Flitch of Bacon.' This dates back several hundred years and continues to this day, anyone wish to try it?

 
As always a War Memorial dominates the town commemorating the men of the district who fell during the Great War, those who fell later in the second war were also added.  For a town which even now contains merely some ten thousand souls the loss of almost seventy men at the time must have left a big hole in the town.  The returnees would of course have contained many damaged men.

 

How many of those men carried buckets and pails of water from here I do not know, however I suspect the wives and kids were responsible for that duty.  This Water Pump now stand in the centre of the High Street but I wonder if it stood elsewhere and was relocated?  No reason why it would not be found here, it is the centre of the Victorian town that erected it, it looks at least to me as a Victorian Pump, and it would be reachable for all from here.

The citizens were not always happy, cheery, well behaved souls as they no doubt are today.  In times past several towns and villages had their 'Lock up' or 'Cage' in which drunks were deposited to sober up or felons awaited further punishment.  This one has windows albeit they may well have had wooden shutters over them in the past also.

Lady Warwick, Frances Evelyn "Daisy" Greville, Countess of Warwick, was well able to care for the poor of the parish.   Lady Warwick was to put it mildly, a 'right little goer!'  Marrying well did not stop her, or her husband, making use of other people, the 'elite' are not renown for their fidelity, and she managed to find the Prince of Wales, later 'King Edward VII' as a lover.  She was inbetween  playing the field a bit of a socialist and participated in many 'good works,' even becoming a member of the Labour Party in time.

  
Clearly not all were impressed by the woman!  The deterioration of the weather is seen when Canada Geese are seen trying to keep one leg warm while they sleep!  If he finds it cold so do I!

The cold water of the 'Doctor's Pond,' a doctor in times past is reputed to have made use of the pond to breed Leeches used in medical treatment, makes for a decent photograph.  I like the rippling water stretching out across the pond.  The Geese ignored it.

Not far away a house stood with this excellent Grouse flying across the wall.  Is 'Parqueting' the word I am looking for or does that just involve floor tiles?  There is a name for the artistic rendering of these plaster walls.  All Essex contains houses emblazened with such decoration and this is an excellent large example.  It was lot yellower in reality I have to say, I used the wrong setting.

At this time of year when 'remembrance' is in vogue it is common for stupid people to complain that today's 'soft youth' are not like the youth of yesterday who fought in two world wars.  The normal response from me is to indicate 'you' didn't do that either and 'you' are no better than these.  
I did wonder what goes through the mind of young men in the Air Training Corps (ATC) when there is talk of war in the air. 
"What would you do if war was declared?" I asked.They looked a bit askance as if they had never really given it much thought.  
"A bit scary but exciting" said the one hidden behind the fat controller there.
Both gave sensible answers and left me in no doubt that when they join the RAF, as the tall one seen will be doing, the RAF will benefit from the right kind of man.  These two young men with their lives before them will give a dozen years of their lives in service for their country not for the rewards and not unaware of the possible dangers.  Two sensible good men, I suspect there are more like them in the ATC.