Books! & Family.

So, in spite of my better judgement I wandered off up the road to the wee shop, entering just after they had opened.  I am always wary of this shop, on the few occasions I have used it I have been confronted by what we refer to
as 'wide boys.'  However, after a quick prayer, and a quicker breakfast of stale hot cross bun and coffee, I made it anyway.  They were still sorting themselves out for the Saturday traffic and quickly I explained my desire and quickly the packet was forthcoming.  Soon I was heading home via Tesco.  This surprised me as I was aiming for Sainsburys but fell into a dream and found myself at the wrong shop.  This may not surprise anyone.  A quick wander round for the needful, and a fight to stop the girl at the checkpoint stealing my packet, and home I stumbled.  Another exciting Saturday in flow.

I have always liked the H. V. Morton style.  Especially as the books date mostly from the 1920s and 30s and as such offer a differing view on life.  Already I have mentioned his book on Scotland which I have somewhere on the shelf.  The link also offers the other Morton books I have read, and one on the man himself.  While his books offer an insight into the world of his day they also offer an insight into the man himself, this is not always pleasant.  

With the book on medieval churches I failed to realise that is contains over 400 pages of small font!  It looks historically interesting, probably is, and will be very interesting to read.  However, with several other 'heavy' reads on the go it may not appear here for a while, possibly this year!  

There are quite a few books I am slowly working my way through at the moment, and one of my sensible nieces has given me an 'Amazon' voucher, this means I will have to make use of the second hand books available there and save money and increase the book pile.  I am not sure this is a good idea...

I will start looking on Monday!

Yes its a baby.  Yet another great niece for me to spend money on.  However, on this occasion, the mother has brothers and family without nieces or nephews to spend money on, so I will not venture much more than I already have.  As far as I can count, that is four nieces, one nephew, three great nieces and two great nephews.  Though I may have missed one.  They are all at a distance, only the latest two require anything, the rest all successfully grew up and found work, bar the archaeologist who still has to decide whether to find work or study for a PHD.  

Her dad says 'Work!' 

Boring Again

 

It's been a boring couple of years, and there appears little excitement on the horizon for me.  I have not been getting out, and if I try to get out now I am unsure of busses or trains at the moment. One or other will be on strike, and this corrupt government under another gooseberry will not be able or willing to do anything about this.  Not as long as they are coining it in.

On top of that inactivity has made me less inclined to activity, my knees tremble easily and therefore I rarely venture far.  This does not do me any good but that is how it is at the moment.

This sums it up.

My head wants to see other things, find strange places, take bad photos, invigorate the brain and stimulate the intellect (don't laugh).  But the bulk of my body wants to sit here watching Scottish football, eat, and sit some more.   The knees like the rest but I know they need exercise.  We argue about this often.

Anyway, tomorrow, Saturday, I must trot up to a shop, one I consider the biggest chancers in town, to collect a couple of books UPS have left there.  Or at least that is what I am told has happened.  These were bought via Waterstones at beginning of December, it took me a while to work out they were not coming, apparently had been attempted delivery, but no card left, no idea what happened.  When I contacted them I was told they had been left in a safe place.  What place?  No idea.  Today I have the paper telling me where they are (HA!) and tomorrow I find they are not there.

Ah well, some excitement I suppose.

Caesaromagus for Waterstones Books.

With the temperature heading towards 90% only a person of limited mental intellectual ability would venture outside in the heat and without a hat.

I caught the 9:56 bus.

Like myself others were trying to figure out which stand to sit at, which n umber bus was ours, and is it really 45 minutes to wait?  It was not.  Our bus arrived on time, racing into the bay.  I did not get a reply from the driver for my cheery good morning, he appeared a bit disgruntled.  Indeed his driving as we headed towards Caesaromagus indicated he was not working from joy and happiness.  However, we arrived safely, and possibly early, and we left the bus, clutching tightly our bus passes.

The heat was indeed hot, but as I was brought up in Edinburgh I am used to the heat.  We had to sit right up close to the fire to avoid frostbite when I was young.

I squeezed my wee camera into my jeans as with the sun being out I saw this as an opportunity to find photographs, of an artistic nature, of all the half dressed females around.  This however, did not turn out to be the spectacular joy I had envisioned.  Indeed, it reflected badly on the Pizza sales in this town.

and hobbled off down the road.  I took the back road to walk through the market, forgetting it was closed on Mondays, and via the Oxfam rag & bone shop I made it to Waterstones.

My delightful Niece and Great Niece had given me a book voucher for lots of money and it was sitting staring at me, so I had to get out and use it.  I clambered upstairs, scoured around, Travel, religion, railways, History, Biography, women, War, and failed to find anything leaping out at me.  In fact I had to make a real effort to find things worth taking home and placing on the ever growing 'To Read' pile.  The effort was worth it, I managed to obtain four books, hobbled slowly downstairs, and paid with the card and the cash on my Waterstones card, leaving me £2:94 on the Waterstones card.  No cash left my hands!  The young lass treated me like she would her granddad who was attempting to work his phone, however, with £2:94 on that card I may have to go back again, or at least try the Camulodunum shop.

No market today, just a coffee shop in the centre walkway and this man loudly revealing why he has not made any money from music.  Mondays are the best time to shop, unless you want the markets, as most people remain indoors.  The musician, and I use that term lightly, was wise enough to sit himself under the tree as a great deal of shade was coming from that.

Making my way past the people who were in town, and all wishing to walk into me, London overspill style, I headed towards M&S.  Now this I did not like the idea off.  For a start they are expensive and aimed at old people, not my smart trendy style.  I also find it difficult to work out how to get back downstairs again once up there.  Hiding the 'Down escalator' behind the women's lingerie which is always in such shops next to Menswear for reasons I have never discovered, does not help.  

Anyway I perused the price tags on shirts, tee shirts, or 'vests' as they insist on calling them, the few jackets on show, jeans which all have the wrong length for me, odd numbers in M&S while I seek an even number length, and of course the overpriced shoes.  

I could justify using my card on.  I was unusually caught in a  shop, with free money and nothing to purchase!  This was unusual.  However, if the free bus still runs I may pop down to the Freeport, or is it Village Outlet shops and see if M&S remain there.

Walking in the hot heat with knees that cried out all the way, I noticed the floodlights high above.  These are of interest for those who follow cricket.  These floodlights mark the Essex Cricket Ground.  There is a smaller ground in Colchester where they sometimes play, found at the bottom of the slope leading up to the castle.  Most games are however played here in Caesaromagus.  Cricketers are of course stupid enough to stand around all day doing nothing in bright and hot sunshine.  Only a really stupid person would wander about in such heat.

A few minutes before the bus I stopped off in the cathedral for a minute, praying for strength to get to the bus.  

This was an error.  ought to have been praying to find the bus!  The 70 I came on, I have discovered, only runs from my stop to here.  However, interspersed with this is the 370, which runs all the way to Camulodunum every hour.  Many are confused by this.  The driver however, was very helpful, explaining to me, and then an old lady (you see how easily old people get confused), the situation as it is.  We waited almost contentedly for the bus to take off.  Eventually, with all the windows open with the smell of bus fumes still filling the air, we headed homewards.  

Tonight is SPAM.  Tonight the boys get together, if the women allow them out.  I may have fallen asleep by then.  Maybe I will ask one of their women to give me a call, just in case...?

What?   oh!

A Trip to Waterstones

 

Decided this morning to take action against the 'stir crazy' feeling that has developed around here.  I checked the bus times online, decided I was going to miss the 10:09 so noticing there was a different bus at 10:24 strode manfully for that.  It was not to be found.  Instead the No 70 I was looking for is now a No 370.  The 42B at 10:24 no longer appears to exist, according to the timetable on the shelter at the new bus station at any rate, so 370 it was to be.  

The screen informed me the next 370 would be along in 9 minutes.

I believed them.  

I was right to do so, 9 minutes later the bus pulled into the bay, the wrong bay, but into a bay.  Not quite the 'Zimmer' bus as of old I note this one.  This lot were more the ten different coloured pills a day lot I think.  Anyway, we clambered aboard and slowly the bus made its way out of the terminus and wound round a new route to the far off city. 

 

 

It being almost three years since I last ventured out this way I was as happy as a kid going on holiday.  I expected to see change, and change there was.  Many new housing developments have arisen.  With a Tory controlled council it is no suprise to note these are all houses costing from £400,000 and rising, so as to bring in more Tory voters.  I must admit a sense of growing discontent about this.  Not that I can ever buy, but to purchase a one bed flat here requires about £18,000 deposit, and even then the mortgage people may not accept you.  An actual cheap house may be found at the £300,000 mark, but unless you have one to sell, who can afford this?  

 

Fifty or so minutes later we landed in town and I hastened slowly towards the Cathedral.  There is nothing much else but shops in this town, and I wanted only one of them.  I actually wished to look at the bookstall in here, and on this quiet  day I found a lack of books, a mere smattering on the shelves.  The Diocese office keeps the best ones in their bookshop.  I was not going there.

 

I sat opposite this window, much brighter in reality than in this poor picture, the first time I have really noticed it.   Somewhat Victorian to me.  Just looking at it now I noticed a wee man high up on the left side.  A closer look indicates this is Andrew, according to the cross he holds, and maybe next time I am in I will look again, and with the better camera.  

I departed soon after I had mused sufficiently, hesitating when mistaken for an employee by a young lady entering the building.  Have I sunk so low I actually look like an Anglican now?

 

 

Waterstones was the shop I was heading to.  Here, my £20 gift voucher in hand, I perused each shelf, each table, and almost the Costa coffee shop before I noticed the prices, and, eventually making my purchase and discovering I had £10 on my Waterstones card also.  This I will keep until the next time, probably next week and visit the Camoludunum shop.  

In spite of the masses of books available I was a bit disappointed.  None of them jumped out at me this time, however, after wandering around, almost shoving an unwilling to move woman from one table, and stopping a more polite one from moving at another, I managed to find three books to bring home to the bookshelves.  As always it is a bit of a gamble, will these actually be worth someone else's money?  Will I enjoy them?  Will I find time to read them in between sloth and stuffing my face?     

 

 

The trouble is, I only have one more book token to use, but there are several books I consider I ought to consider.  Maybe I need to drop hints with the family again...?

 

Ridiculous as it sounds I almost went the wrong way heading back to the bus.  Tsk!  I intended to pass throught the market and check out one or two stalls.  On the correct route I passed this.  At first I thought it was the 'Wicker Man,' but it turns out to be a war memorial.

The memorial itself commemorates the Boer War, a massive block elsewhere remembers the Great War, but this one always has a presentation of sorts in November.  Not sure what that is made from but it is well done.

I passed through the very large indoor market, obtaining a variety of meat from the butcher and accidentally purchasing two large slabs of cheese from the cheese stall.  The nurse will not be pleased.  It is a log time since I have been here, these two stalls have not changed, and many of the other stalls remain in place, including the one selling aged cameras at inflated prices.

 

Somewhat surprised at my energy I went to the bus station.  At the stop the numbers indicated had changed.  I queried this with a driver hesitating to begin his shift.  He informed me how things had been revised, where my stop now was, and we both laughed when I asked why there was now a Number 70, as well as a Number 370 bus on the same routes.  "I have no idea," he said holding wide his arms.  We both laughed at the managers and clever people high up who direct things but never see them in action on the ground.

I checked the bus stop.  Lots of old pill pushers stood there.  The indicator claimed the No 70 was coming in 34 minutes, the C1 (what's that?) in 1 minute.  I went to the 'Tesco Express,' bought an overpriced bottle of water, returned to the stop to find only a couple waiting.  The C1 went off to the Hospital taking the pill pushers with it.  Now the indicator said No 370 in 6 minutes.  I sat of the two rails that form a poor seat and the No 370 drew in behind me!  

Catching a bus takes lots of patience, exercise, sarcasm and hope in this area I find.   Still, I was heading home.

 

What delight to see old houses (costing a million) blue sky, green grass, growing crops and hedges filled with birds flapping about.  Though to be honest it was mostly Crows I heard murmering.  It was good to be out, especially as the day passed quickly with no troubles.  Within three hours I had returned, eaten lunch and began to stiffen up.  A good day, which I will pay for tomorrow.

 

Stasi at the Surgery

 

 

I awoke after 6 am this morning and lay there full of fear and ire.  I had to phone the Stasi at the surgery to arrange a blood test ordered by the doctor.  My mind filled, as it does when still asleep, with imagined fears, arguments, responses and abuse.  I attempted to get this out of my mind by listening to the wireless but for an hour I wrote and re-wrote imagined complaints. 

At 7:30 I awoke peaceful.

I forgot to phone at 8 am and remembered after the half hour.  I then called, endured the corporal's long intro and pressed 'Number 2' as ordered.  She repeated the same words needlessly thus increasing the costs to me.  After the overture to an opera a gentler voice informed me I was 18th in the queue.  I put down the phone.  

Some time later I tried again, this time when answered I jumped straight to 'Number 2,' and then the opera overture.  Eventually the music stopped and the gentle voice informed me I was 13th, 13th!!!  "How long do they take to make appointments?" I wondered," I bet it is all those old people at fault."  

Later, I tried again, three times I have called at the most expensive time, at least now I was second in the queue.  Almost 25 minutes had gone by since I first dialed. (Do we still say 'dialed?')  At last the phone rang, and rang...and rang ...and rang...and rang...and a female voice kindly answered as I was muttering things down the line.  

I stated my case and was cheerily fixed up immediatley!  Shocked, I mentioned the Flu Jab I had not been offered.  "Right," she says, "Friday 26th?"  Shocked again I grasped the chance and the morning time offered.  

Isn't it just typical that when you fear something will be a struggle against the powers of evil the reality is very different?  I spent a few minutes checking to see if I was still asleep and dreaming, once convinced I was awake I also checked for bite marks.  None found, I had called reception and lived!  And you say prayer does not work?

I got out no further than Tesco today.  I had to go for those forgotten things yesterday, bread I am not supposed to have, chocolate I must avoid, wine which should not be taken and yoghurt which can be.  I also stocked up on 'Waterstones Voucher Cards.'  You see Amazon, whom you may have heard off, are having problems with 'Visa.'  Visa charges have increased from, if I remember right, 0.3 to 1.5 after Brexit.  The EU had a cap on these costs which we lost with Brexit so the price shot up.  This is now costing the UK £35 billion a year.  Amazon, those friendly staff-oriented people, are not happy and are ending UK Visa cards at the end of January (ensuring they get this Xmas in first).  So Waterstones it is then, which will surprise the members of my family who find reading a problem.  So, happily paying the young lady at the checkout I hobbled back the pretty way, avoiding buses, lorries at the building site, reversing vans up the side road and people attempting to keep a social distance away from me.  I think that was the reason.  Home to cogitate on the work to do tomorrow and wonder if it will get done?  

Books!

 

As you know, the other day I got an email from 'Waterstones' informing me that I could lose my £10 voucher if I did not use it by the end of the month.  This, I consider, a rather sneaky way to entice the stupid book buying public into spending money they cannot afford near Christmas.  I naturally refused to fall for this crude ruse.

Unfotunately, somehow or other the three books at the top became part of this weeks postman problem.  It appears I had ordered them and Chris, the postman, refused to deliver them on Wednesday as he would not ring the bell.  I will ring his on Monday!  

A strange thing about this business is that the books did not come from Waterstones themselves, one came from Hatchards and two from Foyles, or was it the other way around?  Anyway, having reapplied for delivery I also prayed that something would be done, and it was, the reglular postman on Friday was ignored and Zac, the unsmiling van driver, delivered to my door, unsmiling.  I like Zac, he was always good when I worked there but today's management style, the huge number of drops he now has, in an area he must be sick of having been brought up here, and with no option but to continue this employment means he may be tiring of life.  Royal Mail management once was operated by ex-postmen, today'experts,' shrewd in the ways of looking at figures on paper, have arrived and no one is happy.  The managers I knew were quick to take their leave, many experienced men retired, and folk like Zac are now lumbered and the easy life he once enjoyed, easier than mine, has gone.  Instead poor management on the ground, constant change of manager, and lack of comprehension 'upstairs' does not lead to happy people.  I see trouble next year.

You will note my 'To Read' pile has one or two which have been begun.  That shows not only how slow readig has become but also that big words, small font and 700 pages are not encouragement to read.

Is 'Lockdown' affecting concentration?  Could it be I am just a slob?  Answers on a postcard.  I am just glad the charity shops have closed again for LockDown.  Had they remained open I may have found myself accidentally buying books to add to the pile.  In fact I took some books down to one shop the other day and donated them, books I could not use, out of date, and unliked.  My problem is now avoiding buying them back again in December!

 

They still have not finished the count.  Not that the loser will accept it anyway, already he has begun spurious court suits, anti-media propaganda, and generally objecting to everything that he does not like.  The sooner he has gone the better, he leaves the USA in a divided mess however.

 

Books, Sausages and Cheese.

I hobbled off at high speed to the bus station for the 11: am bus.
As I approached the digital readout said 'Bus 70: 15 Minutes.'
What?
The changed the times again, however they have not changed the timetable on the shelter I noticed.
So I had to hang about while the driver decided whether to arrive or not.
After a short eternity he arrived.
The questions arise while the time draws near.
"Will he arrive?"  
"Has there been an accident?"  
"Is my watch right?"
"What is that women saying about 'delay?'"
And so on, but he arrived early.
The drivers changed over, the bus departed, ignoring an old man struggling to catch the bus, and bumped its way inexperiencedly along the busy route.  This driver was either new, transferred from London or just inept.  We made it into town but at the lights he jiggered us forward almost inch by inch as if this would move the standing traffic in front of him.  
Definitely a London reject.

I clumped down the street, passing the occasional policeman, a wide variety of people of all ages rushing to and fro, it was noon, and the aroma of takeaway lunches from the snackbars.  Passing through the shopping centre I entered 'Primark' to check the price of jeans, my pair were £6 last time I was in, and discovered no matter what that all jeans/chinos/trousers were made for those with waists no greater than 38.  I was going to enquire where the fat man's stuff was but the assistant looked uninterested and indeed washed out by his labours.  
I moved on.

 
At last, climbing the stairs to the non fiction books, after stopping to check the many tables with 'Buy on get one Half Price' where I did just that, I then browsed carefully. This did not take long, I wondered about the cash in my pocket and how hot the plastic bit was before I bought too many.  Then raced downstairs to proffer my Gift Token and my green card to accumulate points which will be beneficial in the future.  I like this shop in spite of those critics who claim they are limiting the scope of the choice of books.  Possibly this is true, I cannot tell, however they have sufficient for me at the moment.

  
Sauntering around the many tented stalls that now fill the paved High Street I considered their cheese, their pies, bread, veg and other delights then spent £3 on a hand made Malted Loaf just so I do not require attendance at Tesco when I got home.  £3!  That was not the cheapest, one type of bread cost £12.... I mean really!

So, the books obtained, with bread in the bag I headed to my next regular stops, G.C.Smith, butcher at the Chelmsford Market.  This supplies me with sausages and chicken for the freezer at a mere £20, while along the rows we find a small cheese stall with a couple of shelves packed with huge chunks of cheese at reasonable prices.  'Mark's Cheese and Eggs' stall has a great variety on offer, however as I proffered my £20 note, apologising for having nothing else (I only spent £4:50) the cheery lady said that did not matter as "We don't give change on Friday's."  We then discussed the lack of a notice to this effect once they had brought me round and lifted me off the ground.  They don't like people lying around in case folks blame the cheese.  Anyway I like these two stalls and have been there regularly, allowing for long periods in between and will be back when the freezer demands this.   I might however raise my cholesterol level from 4:3 to much higher if I am not careful.  Then I hobbled back to the bus, waited for ages, then in an almost empty bus made it home, knees aching, wallet empty, but sufficient foodstuffs obtained, books to add to the 'To Read' pile, and a happy sense of getting out of town for a change.   

Day Out to Caesaromagus

Late last night I decided to risk a trip into Caesaromagus and make use of the book vouchers in Waterstone's shop. So by ten this morning I was on the Zimmer bus, after almost failing to get my ticket out of my new wallet which had swallowed the thing!  So we soared of past green crops rising in the acres around, aged houses sparkling in the bright sunshine and young women in bright outfits brightening the view.  They ignored me...

It all appeared remarkably quiet, possibly folks made use of the Monday holiday and stayed away now the kids were back at school, possibly I was just lucky.  I clambered upstairs in the shop and browsed the books on the tables, on the shelves and at times found it quite depressing as there was nothing obvious to buy.  That is there were many interesting books but not ones that grabbed me and forced me to take home, which is disappointing.  The idea of laying books on tables is because it apparently sells them better than standing on the shelf facing the customer, it is better for me viewing them certainly even better had I brought my other glasses with me so I could see properly indoors!

All went well, not counting the females ability to walk through you in a shop demanding you move or totally ignoring your presence.  It would be easy to make use of rude words and offer suggestions on correct behaviour, old women are the worst!  
I proffered the books at the desk where the efficient staff man took care of me, indicating the £25 card had only £20 on it and reminded me never to trust a woman!  However I paid the difference and collected the new bonus card which is being used by Waterstone's and made my way elsewhere. Until recently a small card received a red stamp on every occasion £10 or more was spent.  A good idea however some staff were fiddling this, one man has just been dealt with for acquiring £11,000 worth by fiddling the cards this way and so a more secure computerised card has been introduced.  Some staff will not be happy...

Home via the gardens and the butcher in the market.  Plenty of sausages and chicken in the freezer now!  Then stumble up the road to await the transport with the happy people.  Interested to note the growing number of those sleeping rough during the day in public places.  Do they think this will get them sympathy in this city?  I could not decide why this was the case, mostly this sight has been seen in Camulodunum, a far rougher town, so what causes the change and are these folks local?

Back home I delighted in my day, the first time this year I have been out of town I think.  How nice to almost think I am getting fitter.  

    

Caesaromagus

As part of the Christmas shop I joined the happy throng in Caesaromagus this lunchtime.  I had intended to go to the wee town of Great Dunmow and search the Oxfam shop there, rich town rich pickings, but the bus for Caesaromagus came in and I hopped on.  I was going to go there on Monday anyway as Waterstone's Bookshop was my aim.  
So sitting in the sun drenched, not quite zimmer, bus we toddled along through the Essex countryside, green and pleasant, with a mass of greenery to be seen all around from the top deck.  How lovely to get out of town and see distant woods and fields resting for the winter, some of course were still producing green things of various shapes and other the green that comes form having been harvested and prepared for the next round of farming.
The city was crowded, the stalls in the centre joined by a Frank Sinatra imitator sitting on a pedestal accompanied by his big band produced by a tape deck and a loud speaker, not too shabby was he.  At the far end a chap was playing a steel drum kit extremely well also and I wondered if they had licensed the music offerings in the town centre, there were no Bob Dylan clones to be seen.
One or two of what we now must call 'homeless' were to be seen, one sat Muslim prayer style before his empty coffee cup, another had laid out lots of kids toys for sale, though where he got them from is unknown.  
It was almost a summer like scene the day very warm and winter still only threatened for later in the week.  I worked my way through the disappearing number of charity shops and trudged all the way to the far end of the centre to find a one time cheap charity shop now charged huge prices for old goods.  We have become used to some doing that but it is a sad day when they all turn out this way.

The Waterstone's staff were as efficient and cheery as always happily letting me buy three grossly expensive book vouchers while smiling all the time.  I bet she is on a bonus!  The staff were helpful and I found the other day when shopping that was the case in many places in town so I did something about it.  On the local facebook page I put up a post suggesting folks spoke f the good service in various shops and many people jumped in to do just that.  Far too many spend their time miserable and moaning about things but here there was a good response to those who gave good service.  Grasping my vouchers, neatly placed in small envelopes for me along with the myriads of paper bits I made my way through the town.
I had been looking for the charity shops for items relating to our Tuesday show day where we have to dress up.  This appears easy for the women as they have an abundance of offerings at home,  I however as a mere man have to work at this.  One item only I bought, a maroon bow tie, on a stretchy cord, for £2:99 was a bargain from the Caesaromagus Oxfam shop, a place with more bargains than their expensive Bookshop round the corner!  Again the service was pleasant.
Having done all I could I ventured into the cathedral where the bell ringers were giving it laldy high above.  Either they were practising or they were drunk on communion wine, I was not sure which but the sound was continuous for a very long time.  Amazingly the place was deserted, in the middle, possibly to drown out the noise from the bells, a lass was heaving a hoover across the huge empty floor while a man began carrying chairs ready for the next day.  It looked tiring work so I made my way out again.

My last task in the ever warming day was another trip through the indoor market.  On the way there I passed the Essex County Council building which features one block that was built between 1919 and 1939.  Interestingly just above the doorway we find these swastika features.  Part of the decoration that runs around the building.  It was queried a couple of years ago why these were created at that time, Hitler having come to power in 1933, yet no answer has been forthcoming.  It may be a coincidence, possibly a mason had a Moseley like tendency but we may never know.  Nothing has been done about removing them and so far no-one else has complained.  Boris probably admires them...
In the market I collected my chicken bits from the butcher, his vegetarian sausages (he says they contain meat) and then I bought three huge chunks of cheese as I was tempted by the sight of so much on offer.  The nurse did say that time I miss drop cheese but really she is trying to kill me, I must have cheese or I die!  So I bought some including some black 'carob' filled cheese.  The woman said no-one had died from eating it, yet if they had would she know...?

On my way to the bus early this morning I met a lady saying "Excuse me."  Normally I would answer but I know this woman.  Sadly she is mentally ill and once before stopped to ask for 'a penny.'  It took a moment to realise all was not well.  Recently the facebook page has had a long tale of her knocking on doors late at night asking directions or for money.  This has worried some women who were alone at the time.  It worried one mum who discovered she offered to 'toss off her 15 year old  son for £5' an offer we are sadly not able to conform or deny nor to know whether he accepted the offer or not. A later post claimed she wanted £15, a 15 would find it cheaper elsewhere.  Today I made use of a passing mum with pushchair to avoid answering this oriental lady and hastened towards the bus ashamed both of my cowardice and inability to know what to say or do for her.  She is known to the police, probably has some sort of care somewhere but this leaves me guilty about doing nothing and having no idea how to handle the situation.
Helpfully have spent all my money and was seated on top of the bus for the return journey my steaming debit card smouldering in my pocket only one other passenger came upstairs. He sat on the other front seat and proceeded to talk to himself all the way home.  He also had clear problems, possibly from birth but somehow I suspected brain damage from an accident, and I thought it might be a sign of some sort.  I was very wary when once home and piling my new debts on the desk I opened my e-mail very carefully indeed.  You never know what some loon might send me...
Christmas shop almost done...