MPs Dump Sewage

 

Brexit strikes again!

Last night a majority of MPs voted against an amendment to the environmental bill attempting to stop water companies dumping sewage into the sea or rivers.  That bill would allow water companies to pollute the waters around England and Wales, Scotland's water companies work in a different fashion and this would not occur there.  

The problem, not admitted  by the government nor their MPs, is Brexit!  The water companies are struggling to find the chemicals required to clean the sludge we produce, therefore this is building up and cannot be dealt with.  Investment may help, but one water company is paying the CEO over half a million pounds plus payments to shareholders, and cannot spare any more, and to help the companies the government has allowed them to dump waste into the rivers and the sea.

MP's from seaside constituencies have voted according to government orders, thus are now unable to paddle in their own area as the brown stuff is spreading in their waters.  It has to be said the Corona Virus lasts 33 days at least in such waste, and now is flooding into the seas, also the such polluted rivers may lead to Cholera if it gets into the water supply.  

The 'Great Stink' of Victorian times may be returning under the freedom Brexit brings!  What's not to like?

 

I notice the BBC, SKY News and ITV do not mention this on their websites.  It did not appear on the front pages of any newspaper either, could it be a conspiracy is afoot to hide this from the people?

Just imagine, a free press that follows the government line rather than speak the truth!  'It could never happen here,' could it?

Anyway, people are noticing on Twitter, but the ones who will fall foul of this (if that is the right word) will know nothing unless the local council spend cash they do not have warning people not to play among the waters.  If heavy rain falls there will be fun for everyone! 

Sunny Grumble

Is it just me?
I came across this advert on Twitter reminding people to drink lots of water in the heat.
Now it crossed my mind that such things were never made clear when I was a lad.  Nobody told us to drink cold water when we were hot.  No wireless or TV adverts demanded we drink to avoid suffering from heat.  I wonder why?
Could it be, and I am merely speculating here, could it be that we did not require instruction on how to cool down when hot?  Was it because or mum gave us instructions perhaps?  Could it have been that we were not totally stupid maybe?  I just throw this out as reading this advert I wondered if people had never realised before that when the sun shines it gets hot and we drink water to cool down and feel capable of dealing with it.
Maybe it's just me?
I await warnings to 'Keep out of the sun as it is hot,' and 'the sun burns,' don't be in it too long, just in case people do not realise this.  I realise climate change has increased the power of the sunshine, it burns me more than it used to and I avoid it, but really, do we need such blatant advice?

I managed to wander around in the heat looking for half naked women photographs in the sun.  There were so few as it was just to hot.  Animals hid from the heat, children didn't, most people gathered under trees for the shade and to gather together to pray that Boris will get arrested for some misdemeanour tomorrow.  If only.  

 
I have been struggling to listen to a programme re William Gladstone on Radio 4.  David Cannadine does offer decent programmes but it is becoming impossible to hear what is being said as the producer, as all producers today, insist on inserting needless and irrelevant music thus drowning out the speaker.  There has always been this element on radio, a needless song because the producer cannot listen for five minutes to a voice, now however it is over top of the voice making hearing impossible.
Radio 3 offers the 'Essay.'  Fifteen minute programmes of people speaking intelligently, usually, without music or any other interruption. Why is it Radio 4 cannot manage this?  These children of the 80's have no ability to listen, I suspect they wander about with headsets over their heads, not the women obviously as they fear for their hair, and their heads down onto the mobile rather than looking where they go.  
Speech is good, intelligent speech does not require noise accompaniment.
When will the BBC kids learn this?

Still Dreich

The mist lingers yet.  Dreich indeed are the days so there is little to see outside, not unusual in December.  Sunday saw a Christmas service with lots of kids reading things and making things in church, not deeply spiritual but a laugh for all concerned.  Last night I took my aching knees back down again for the carol service, the usual reading sandwich type of thing, and returned mince pie full and ready to sleep.
A dreich day brightened by the occasions and the people around (all the young women wanted me) and I found several Xmas cards awaiting me.  On top of that all those little jobs that must be done I avoided and hopped it before they began!
I answered the cards received by making use of the web.  A home made card which satisfied all, well not the one who didn't know who I was.  Much easier than scribbling out a hundred cheap cards for folks. 

While mist can lead to nice pictures it is just dreich when the sun fails to break through.  All around is gray and miserable, a bit like the people wandering around town, with added pressure of those last minute gifts required.  
World news is boring, all is being put aside for the Christmas break and journalists forced to work over the period are looking forward to a disaster somewhere (preferably warm) from where they can fill the time.  Otherwise it is shopping trips, weather and road accidents, not great news coverage.  

One good thing today was the Water bill.  This told me I owed the greedy money grabbers no more than a mere 25 pence!  The lowest bill I have received ever.  This of course is because of the monthly direct debit, it cost £205 over the entire year, which would be worse if I bathed more than once in a blue moon.  It never fails to amaze me how much water I waste.   How often the tap is left running, how much is wasted in the kitchen and how deep the bath water tends to be when I am reading my books in there.  From today water, along with electric, will be used sparingly.

Sexist!

Water

 

Earlier today I was feeling sorry for myself as I did not have one of those, a shot at that and lots f those over there that they have, when I came to myself and considered those who have less than I and are often happier than me.  Folks in some African townships live in mud huts or tin shacks that I would consider somewhat less reliable at keeping out the rain than my landlord's roof.  Others have to work 16 hours a day for little to make the constantly shrinking T-shirts that I buy, others toil in fields for the veg that I allow to rot because it is too much like work to cut it and use it.  

One blatant suffering is that of water!

Some years ago a programme on TV gave the impression the next war would be caused by water, or the difficulty in sharing it.  The vast amount of water that covers the earth is undrinkable and our limted technology will not allow us to make it drinkable, or at least will not pay to do so!  Surely it must be possible to ensure each one of us can access clean drinking water wherever we are?  It surely is but money, politics, selfishness and greed are probably the most likely causes in hindering delivery of clean water.  

Of course some people try to supply the need.  All across the globe governments can be found making decent attempts to supply such although too many do not and charities work tirelessly to provide in many places.  This does not always work successfully however.  Some years ago Oxfam, I think it was, spent vast sums drilling wells in Bangladesh and provided clean, safe water for the peoples.  Soon afterwards it was discovered that ALL the water was contaminated with arsenic!  This was because of a natural fault in  the area and now those using the water have to add tablets of some unknown to me substance to counter the effects.  Good try though.

Considering this I remembered a picture I took of a village pump some time back.  This stands in Little Dunmow a few miles from here, a small probably expensive hamlet that once housed a huge church building, now considerably reduced.  This Victorian looking pump was probably the main source of water for all the village for many centuries.  It is possible farmers had their own well, for themselves and their animals, and maybe the pub brewed it's own beer from water found in a well, that seems likely to me.  But I have not bothered to research as I was too busy contemplating my navel.

If I remember right the pump has since been done up and now is a different colour, it is some years since I took this picture, and it is clear the village has made it a centre piece and rightly so!  The town had a pump well into the 19th century and a friend buying an old house noticed on original deeds from when the house was built that the owner had the right to use the pump two doors down!  Sadly this has now gone.  

As I sit in the bath - well on Sundays anyway - I contemplate the cost of every inch of water draining away (the draining water is charged at about 90% of the water costs, the crooks!) and consider myself lucky to have a bath, lucky to have water on tap and the money to pay for this instead of lugging bucketfulls (a woman's job) back to the house.  Somewhere in Africa a woman is walking several miles to collect water each day, there is no guarantee it is clean either.  How privileged we are to have so much.

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Hole in the Ground

There was he, digging this 'ole....
A small crack appeared in a pipe, not that I could see the crack, and 'Anglian Water' were alerted. There it was a fortnight later, still seeping out so I calls them on the email and gets informed they are a comin out when the lights is a ready.  The 'lights' are portable traffic lights required for this position as we are a main road.  (Which as you will know is also known as 'Stane Street' after the Romans improved the muddy track that ran past my door to Camulodunam.) This little imposition did annoy the traffic somewhat but appeared to have been worked quite well.  Not that I looked out to watch being very busy with my studies.  Well not that busy but I gave up when the info received did not fit the facts found. Some things I came across were interesting. In 1914 a Red Cross hospital opened in a wing of the Workhouse, soon this became a Voluntary Aid Detachment Hospital with 26 beds full of wounded soldiers.  The info comes from a marvellous book that originated in the diaries of one Andre Clark, a local rector, 'Echoes of the Great War.'  

Monday, 24 January 1916.

1p.m. Miss Eliza Vaughan called.  She is on the staff of the VAD hospital, Braintree:  Some of the patients are Scots, or at least of Scots regiments.  Miss Vaughan told us a hospital story, of a man who was brought in unconscious.  When he came to himself he found himself in bandages, head and foot.  She explained he had a vinegar head-swathe because of his fever; a mustard-plaster on his chest because of his lungs; and salt bags on his feet because of frost-bite.  ‘Then, Miss, I think you ought to bring some pepper, and I’ll be the complete cruet.’  

Saturday, 12 August 1916.  

Braintree VAD hospital notes.  There has been sedition among the VAD hospital patients on the question of religion.  Last Sunday those who were officially returned as Church of England were appointed to go to church with miss Leila Vaughan of Braintree, and elderly, staid VAD Nurse;  while the Nonconformists were appointed to go to Chapel with Miss Ennersley, another VAD Nurse, apparently young and frivolous.  Before Service time the CoE men said they were really strict Chapel-men.  They had each their story pat.  In the end the gay Miss Ennersley conducted a great band to the Chapel; and Miss L. Vaughan escorted the one faithful C of E man to Church.  Tomorrow, if the nurses in the Hospital get their way, Miss L. Vaughan is to have charge of the party that goes to Chapel!   

By the time my after dinner snooze arrived the workmen decided to use the digger to disturb my sleep. This failed!  However I was impressed by their speed.  Once they got going it only took a couple of hours to find, repair the pipe and refill the hole.  The traffic hold ups did not produce heavy horn blowing and dangerous driving, the size of the man in charge helped here, and soon all was back as normal. This did not help my search for words for the stuff I was supposed to be writing.  All this detailed information but it will not form into a meaningful few words.  I blame the coffee, I should have had some! 

  
They claim millions of gallons are lost this way every year and round the corner there was another burst pipe offering a wee fountain last week, I hope that was fixed quicker!  
You see how little excitement there is in this part of the world?   A hole in the ground causes me interest, which is more than the bank account does.  If things get any more exciting I may have to move to Frinton!

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It's STILL Summer!

Unbelievable!  The sun shone once again today, and I was too hot walking home this afternoon! Jings, crivvens, and help ma boab!  Who would have thought summer would last three days?  There are rumours it may persist further, but I will wait and see for myself on that one.   So it's time for long cold drinks, sitting in the light, feeding the birdies, and watching the girls pass by the swifts fly overhead.  Lovely Jubbly and someone once said.

I spent a couple of happy hours at an informal gathering of volunteers at the museum in the afternoon.  Much the usual kind of 'get to know you' sort of thing, with a huge slice of chocolate which fell onto my plate by mistake.  We met in the Victorian Schoolroom, used by a lass who terrifies the kids with a practical demonstration of Victorian schooling.  They usually hate it!  The desks are just like the ones we used, and probably were in use by the time the school closed in 1990.  
A jolly time was had by all and then I noticed the box full of dirty plates had been placed beside me.  Hmm I thought, I've seen this done before!  I collected said box, to aid the feeble woman by carrying box to kitchen, the woman's place.  Suddenly I found myself alone, the door closed and my hands in the bowl!  Next thing they were all saying goodbye and I was up to my neck in washed cups.  
It happens every time!

Sunshine, blue sky and occasional cloud.  Good innit?

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Old Doorway

In the middle of Colchester centre stands this Saxon tower, built around 1020 AD they say.  This is the oldest known church in the town, and as the Saxon's tended to build in wood, abundant in the area while stone is not, this may well replace a previous structure.  Actually, outside the new police station lies the traces of a building thought by some to be the first Christian church in the island, possibly built in the first 300 years of the millennium.   There is an abundance of Roman tiles in the doorway and the walls of the tower, which shows how entrenched the Romans were here.   The doorway is not encouraging fat people (oops, sorry, grammar nazi's insist on 'obese.') to enter is it?  

  
The narrow street meant I could not get a better picture from there but sufficient to show the height.  I can imagine their shaky scaffolding as the tower grew!  Amongst the graves in the plot squashed around the tower lies one William Gilberd, whom you will recognise as the physician to Queen Elizabeth I.  He also discovered 'electro-magnetism' whatever that is.  Also entombed lies one John Wilbye, whom you will recall was famous for writing madrigals. (A note to the less enlightened, madrigals were songs, not magazines)  I stuck my head through the side door into what once was a church to find a dingy hall filled with tables all askew.  The hall now serves youth and sometimes is used as a music venue.  While useful to many this appears to me to be a sad end for such a building.  

All around us lie things we never see because they have always been there.  I suspect folks walking up East Hill never glance at this one time watering place.  We take clean water for granted, except when the bill comes in, but until the middle of the 19th century it was not always so.  Water was often polluted, if available, and beer was safer to drink.  Many houses built near the end of the century still shared a common water pump.  This one was erected in 1864 'In Memorium,' but it does not say of whom!  I can imagine bare footed children crowding around each time they passed for a free drink.  Quite what the lower niche was for I know not. Did they wash their feet there perhaps.  

I noticed this in the walls of the priory but am undecided as to the purpose.  A window perhaps? Too high of the ground for anything else.  In RC tradition a light is kept burning, possibly this was connected to that, possibly not.  You can see the haphazard stonework.  Anything lying around was used.

 Yet another memorial to the war dead stands in the priory grounds.  To which members of the town I did not look to see however I was once again struck by the use of the phrase 'The Glorious Dead.'  How the people at home wanted to believe the losses had been worthwhile.   The effect of the losses remains in our character to this day.  

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Cold and Wet

The day we wandered to Poole Bay the weather was cold and wet, the wind blew a gale, and the inclination to believe this was a summers day was strong!  Such was the power of the wind that holding the camera was difficult, hence the pictures are not sharp, and the water was jumping over the edge towards us as we walked.  Many of the small dinghy's near the waters edge were in two minds as to whether they ought to just sink the 18 inches to the sea bed or remain half submerged.  In the distance stands Brownsea Island where Baden Powell held the first Boy Scout Jamboree before the Great War.  Owned by a rich woman for years the island became protected, so we were not allowed to walk over the water to visit.  Instead we forced our caps down over our heads and returned to the car.

Winds like this bring out the windsurfers and many are found in the safe bay area.  Only one was there today, many others crammed into a large van pulling a trailer of such boards and resisted the temptation to catch frostbite.  This fellow spent some time roaming around at speed, falling over, struggling up, and racing off again.  The fact that the bay slopes also encourages water skiing!  The houses overlooking this point start at around two and a half million and rise steeply thereafter. 

   

The calmer waters around Christchurch suffered the same cold wind but revealed the money available for some in these days of austerity.  The narrow opening from the Bay ensures this is a quiet place to moor.  Large numbers of boats can be seen sheltering here on Google Maps.  Personally I find the hard work involved in sailing such craft needless now that motors are available, some folks however take their boats around the world, fighting the raging seas by pulling on ropes and watching the waves at varying angles.  

I have to admit however this looked a fine little ship to me.  Looks older than the rest or maybe it is my fertile imagination.  Does it ever see the sea?  Has this wee boat visited lands afar off and have stories to tell?  It seems a shame to buy such as a mere 'tax dodge' as some do, or waste thousands on a boat and never use it.  The idea of sitting aboard such and just letting the world pass by while drinking tea and cogitating on a fine day has great appeal to me however.  What thinkest thou? 

   

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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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Early Morning

At seven this morning I found myself down by the old mill at Bocking. Today this once busy mill, look at the size of it, has been converted into delightful housing with a marvellous outlook, bar the busy road in front!  There is a bridge over the water at this point and it bares the old Bocking motif which includes  a dolphin.  These beasts are also found wrapped around the light thereupon.  Being so far inland these appear somewhat out of place, dolphins being scarce in this river.  However we must go back into the mists of time here and discus ancient church power.

The Archbishop of Canterbury is based in Canterbury, which is just as well after being called that.  Now from 1381 until 1396 William Courtney was that Archbishop.  The Courtneys were also the 'Earls of Devon' and adopted the dolphin, the symbol of Byzantium, as you know, to keep a connection with that city as one of them had been Emperor there no less!  Which one?  No idea, Google it.  The 'Priory of the Holy Saviour' at Canterbury was given authority over the church at Bocking by Aetheric Worthfulman and his wife Leofwin as far back as 1006.  Reasons are not stated.  In Church of England circles this is known as a 'peculiar,' no jokes please.  This means the church at Bocking is administered by the Archbishop of Canterbury rather than the local Bishop.  All very uninteresting to me but that is how it is and has been for over a thousand years.  The Fleur-de-lis was added later, the Courtauld's who we met before were responsible for this, and a town noted for weaving and spinning must have a 'Woolsack' also on the motif.

From this angle I am afraid the dolphin, which appears more like a fish usually, now looks more like a snake!  Still few notice as they hurtle past in their tin boxes.  The beasts crop up here and there around this part of town.

The Essex motif also on the bridge is shown here, three Seaxes on a red background.  This was the symbol of the old East Saxons who once reigned here.  The 'Seax' was a short sword much used by Saxons, and possibly the name derived from 'Saxon,' or maybe it was the other way around.  I never asked...

ps.  I have put the word verification back on for a bit, too much Mr anon again.

Old Pump

The Aldgate Pump, pictured here in 1880 surrounded by local worthies, still stands on this spot!  The pump marks the official beginning of the 'East End.'  It is found at the junction of Aldgate and Fenchurch/Leadenhall Streets.  There is a report of a pump around here in the days of King John back in the twelve hundreds, streams were near by so it is likely, and this pump, dating from the late eighteenth century, was itself was re-erected on this spot in 1876 when London's growth led to the streets being widened.  Pollution of the water occurred around this time when calcium leaked from the bones of the dead buried in new cemeteries to the north of the City and filtered into the stream which fed the pump. It is said several hundred people died because of this.  However some years later Whittards, the tea people, claimed to always have kettles filled here so they could use the 'purest water.'  It is important to know your local History!  Mains water replaced the stream when the pollution was discovered. The spout is a small brass wolf's head seen on the front of the Portland stone pump, this represents the last wolf shot in London.  This replaced the stone spout sometime before the Great War.  I think there are still wolves in the City of London myself. There appears to be some dispute as to when the water was turned off as the pump is no longer in use.

Situated in the City of London, surrounded still by heavy traffic, the pump is ignored by the masses who pass by each day, London after all has vast numbers of historical artifacts in every direction. Few if any would know the story of the pump, many might not know who King John was, although they might listen if someone claims to have found his lost treasure, and I doubt many temporary locals care as they pass by these days.  We live within our lives and immediate troubles don't we.  At one time the real locals, who actually lived here unlike the million or so employed in the area today, depended on this pump.  Like so many others throughout the nation a pump was the only water supply.  Any fouling of the water therefore caused great suffering to many, and usually this meant the poorest and least able to help themselves.  Many village pumps remain in this area, some well maintained and on public view, others found lurking in peoples gardens.  Our purified water today comes through the tap, however fussy folks can buy a variety of bottled waters, I never see a jogger without the magic bottle for instance, it is almost a fashion item with some, and working pumps or water fountains are rarely seen today.    

  

Historic UK

Spitalfields Life

Wiki

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The Day Began Brightly....

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then went rapidly downhill.
Gazing bleary eyed at the dawn leaving its colourful imprint on the clouds racing overhead I spent a moment full of wonder and delight, then I checked the paperwork piled up on the desk. The Water People have decided to raise my direct debit, as also have the Gas people a second letter informed me with a smug grin.  Further down the pile I retrieved a note from 'TalkTalk' who have taken over the ISP duties from 'Pipex.' The pricing for the new deal was complex, and I cannot make out if there is a time limit on this and what the exact price happens to be!  Several others I find later are in the same boat.  I add these to the Electric bill which has not raised its prices, yet!  I suspect this will follow in the next quarter.  Things look bad, I must find a stupidly well paid job soon, but as I have not done so this far I am somewhat perplexed!  


The gas price is a killer as I use so little.  It merely heats the water and central heating, which is only used when it must be.  Putin showing his muscles to his browbeaten population must be rejoicing whenever the bill flops through my door, as will the French money men who probably own the gas company as well as the electric one. Thatchers love of greed while blethering about 'Britain' shows just how stupid she was,  All the energy companies cost a packet and almost all are owned by Johnny Foreigner!  The worship of money gets you nowhere, well it got many of her friends to where they wanted to be I suppose!  Today the 'Daily Mail' the only paper she could understand, proclaims London and the south keeps the country going, allowing that Edinburgh and one or two other places do OK also.  It would be the south of course, Maggie killed of all the manufacturing and jobs in the rest of the nation and only money men in London and Edinburgh can compete!  The electricity that drives their computers while they enrich themselves comes from France but I suppose they care not about that.  The French were no fools, the Germans have banned nuclear fuel as it might b dangerous, their 'Green Party' being very vociferous.  So Germany gets its electricity from France, who create this by nuclear energy.  The same energy that powers the UK half the time.  I believe we also get gas from Norway, which is fine by me, but once again we have none, ours has ran out, or is about to run out.  



Dirty big windmills all around are now producing just enough electricity to power themselves, and we have a bill for this added to our electric bills, well done the ageing Hippies!  Solar power which some add to their homes is not the success that had been hoped for, it may work well in Crete I guess.  The whole things is a mess from start to finish, and we pay and nothing is done about it, except words of wisdom from our PR PM.  Maybe he pays for the needless bottled water that floods Downing Street?  I bet he doesn't pay the water rates for the flat above.  Why is water so expensive?  There is a lot of it about the UK, especially in Scotland and along the west coast, so why does it cost so much.  My bill appears to charge an awful lot fro what goes down the drain rather than what is supplied, could this be a con I wonder?  They appear to make a lot of profit, as do all these companies, maybe I ought to start an energy company? It appears to be a money spinner.

After I had worked my way through the paperwork the day then went further downhill.....hello!  hello!  oh there is no-one here, I wonder why....?



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The Power of Advertising

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A post by  a pretty American lass reminded me of a programme on telly a few months ago. It revealed the way to make something sell, even though we all obtain the same substance almost free daily. It concerned the rise of bottled water, in spite of the stuff coming into most folks homes by a tap! 

Since it was discovered that foul water brings disease such as Cholera in its wake the supply of clean water has become important in the UK and elsewhere. Today water flows (at a high price thanks to the stupidity of privatising peoples needs) freely into every house. Clean, safe water, doctored to preserve the purity at the pumping stations and keeping the nation clean, healthy and thirst free. Who can complain about this? No-one, it is just not possible to whine about something so important coming direct into the home. Of course natural resources differ. In Edinburgh the water is 'soft.' This gives a lovely 'feel' to the water, an improved 'taste,' and when thirsty nothing 'tastes' better than cool water. In some areas, such as the south, water is hard and leaves a 'limescale' deposit around the sinks and inside kettles and the like. While harmless it is an irritation and the water tastes somewhat 'dull' in comparison with 'soft' water.

This is where advertising men saw their chance. Knowing that the rich 'trendy' set are always on the look out for expensive 'one-upmanship' opportunities, those given the job of selling 'Perrier' water in the eighties went to work. By suggesting sparkling water that arose 'deep in the earth' was healthier than the stuff coming out of the tap, by including sexy women and of course an expensive price, the adverts touched something in the 'Yuppy' mentality of the time. Soon those bulbous green bottles were everywhere, and within moments dozens of others appeared in the shops. Today this is a multi million business.  From large enterprises to small a business is to be gained. One man found a disused well in the back garden of his new house and produces thousands of bottles, at high price, for five star hotels in Scotland! Straight forward 'water' in plastic bottles flew of the shelves at high prices as customers wished either to be seen with the right kind of water or fell for the idea that water filtered by a mountain was cleaner than that filtered by Fred Bloggs at the pumping station. Much later it was revealed that more bacteria is found in the plastic bottled water, of all kinds, and that tap water was healthier!  Facts of course do not end beliefs! The bottles still fill many shelves in the supermarkets, and price is no object to the daft ones who 'prefer it' because of 'health' or 'society' reasons.

I buy cheap sparkling water, and clearly not to impress the society around me!  This is because I looked at what is contained in the average soft drink, available at high price in the shops. Whether Pepsi, Coke or any of the dozens of other available they all contain at least eight spoonfuls of sugar and various other stuff, some of which I am not willing to trust. I decided to buy cheap carbonated water to provide for a 'fizzy' drink.  The stuff available in the shops costs from 40pence to over a pound if you are daft enough to pay for it. I pay 17 pence for the big Tesco bottle shown. Mix it with tap water and it is fine to drink, less harmful than canned drinks and with no additives bar the bubbles, and as I drink a lot of water these days it is better than the canned stuff.  When out and about during these hot summer days, yes there was one recently, buying a plastic bottle of water does make some sense. However paying £1:45 at a railway station appears to me to be just a bit dear myself!  OK if desperate but the word 'rip-off' goes through my mind here. People will not believe me when I tell them it is advertising, and the labels, which make them pay through the nose for water available from their taps. Advertising speaks to something within us, usually greed, 'keeping up with the Jones's' or a deep psychological need recognised by the advertising people. Such folks make better psychologists than psychologists! 

This is a (US) sample of the hype from the eighties, although all of my female readers will not be old enough to remember this sort of thing.

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Hmmmm, the French do things differently of course.....

                                   



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Water

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I want to be by the seaside. Having been brought up with a view over the Firth of Forth and then spending 21 years in London I miss it greatly. The present wilderness is about a thirty minute drive to the estuary, and I have nothing to drive of course, and I miss being near the sea. I miss that smell as well as the sound of the water lapping against quayside or rock. I miss the noise of seagulls, the sight of those various birds chomping their lunch while racing backwards and forwards with the tide. While the sand in the boot is a nuisance it is worth the risk when watching along a good beach, and the one at Bournemouth is excellent, especially after the crowds have gone. 


Water in general, when not flooding under the door or overflowing the bath and crashing through the ceiling, can be an amazingly relaxing creation. Sales of recordings of waterfalls, of mountain streams and even heavy rain, sell to those who wish to soothe the troubles of the day by allowing their mind to dwell in imaginary places. The gentle trickle of a stream does refresh the mind, no doubt this is why so many people place small fountains in their garden to create a mini paradise. (Paradise comes from the Persian word for garden. The Persians, Babylonians etc, like the Arabs, loved gardens. Cool water filled oasis made to measure, at least by the rich!) 


When living in London I watched a TV programme about narrow boats, the type of craft that are used for leisure or even home on Britain's many old canals. Once these were working boats carrying all sorts of goods from coal to hay bales through the country to the coast. Mostly this work was transferred to rail and nowadays a decent narrowboat can cost from £10000 to half a million! I don't own one! However while watching this programme I had a huge desire to be there, on such a craft, stopped alongside a green field miles from anywhere. City life attractions wear off as age creeps up. The fields,the gentle lapping of the water appeared worth more than gold to a city dweller. For those who live on such boats, and larger barge type parked in estuaries around the coast, the rise and fall of the tides gentle rocking must make life worth living. I saw one such boat advertised recently, a mere £350,000 was required....


Oh yes, and drinking water is good for you, especially when indoors!      


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I came across this...

But I cannot remember where!
This annoys me as I think I would like to go
into business selling this type of thing.
There is a sucker born every minute they tell me.....