Steam Saturday

 

Continuing my adventurous life, I have been sitting here watching the 'West Somerset Railway in action.  This is partly because I had so many emails to deal with, both of them now attended to, and the lack of energy to take me further than the shops.

This lack of energy has nothing whatsoever to do with the football that fills the screen each night. At five in the evening sometimes, then at seven or seven forty five, but always something of great importance dances upon the screen.  Now I accept that watching highly paid individuals miss open goals, deny blatant fouls, and scream abuse at officials is a terribly sad thing, however, it has been worth it so far.  Tonight there may indeed be blessings galore shown to us.  

At Five in the evening the Republic of Ireland entertain Scotland, if Scotland win this will be highly advantageous for us.  Then at 7:45 England play Italy in Wolverhampton, for reasons unclear,  and when Italy obtain a glorious high scoring victory I can tell you both Ireland and Scotland, plus Wales, will rejoice with exceeding joy.

Not that we have a grudge against the imperialist despots you understand.

However, all this takes away time for other things, such as eating and washing, so during the day, when I ought to be eating and washing, I have to attend to my emails, read the papers, fall asleep, and send time wondering what day it is.  Normal day as it were.

I did receive a nice letter from the Chief Constable.  He replied much as I expected, stating his position and soon I will reply nicely also.  Quite why the two constables were required to deliver this letter, and in doing so beat the living daily lights out of me as part of the reply I fail to understand.  

They were big girls too!

However, this has gone as far as it can so I will move on, once the bruises heal.

Today my interesting life took me to supermarkets, wearing a jacket while the temperature soared high before 9 am, and then to a Norwegian Chilli Salmon for dinner.  I did not realise Norwegians used Chilli!  It may be a Viking leftover.  Now football has begin, I must watch in case I miss something, and then look up the maps to find out where half these teams originate.  Ukraine we now all know only too well, but so many have never heard of Armenia, yet it goes back way into history.  I suspect few have heard of the Armenian holocaust of 1915 the government does not wish to speak off, nor the connections between the Armenians and the Romans in far off days.  And we will not begin on Nagorno-Karabakh! 

Wednesday Wittering

 

On this day in 1812 the Prime Minister, one Spencer Perceval, was assassinated.   I do not mention this as a suggestion for anyone to take note off by the way, I am just mentioning it in passing.  Security, by the way, has since been tightened somewhat at the House Lobby.  Spencer, a 'run-of-the-mill' Prime Minister had done nothing to upset his assassin except be PM while the gunman tried to get recompense from his trials, though the government as a whole was guilty in the assassin's eyes.  

One John Bellingham was the man responsible.  While in Russia during 1802 he had discovered an insurance scam in operation.  However, Russian corruption has not changed its spots and soon he was serving 5 years in prison on trumped up charges.  Eventually released, he demanded compensation and was ignored.  Back in the UK about 1809 he spoke to his MP and a Treasury official seeking compensation for this injury.  This led nowhere.  Advised to take 'whatever means he thought proper,' Bellingham obtained two pistols, quite easy in those days, and sat by the fireplace in the House of Commons Lobby.

When the PM entered said Lobby Mr Bellingham quietly rose, walked towards him, produced his gun, fired at Perceval's chest and stood quietly awaiting arrest.

The Prime Minister on the other hand fell to the floor and said "I am murdered."  He was not mistaken.  He did not rise again.

Bellingham dd not run, merely informing all those around him that he had been badly treated and Perceval was responsible for this.  However, now that he had found sufficient justice had been done he was satisfied.

The 'Old Bailey' was satisfied that he was not 'insane' as he pleaded, but guilty of willful murder, and thus sentenced Bellingham to hang.

His greiving wife was however, not left alone.  Public money was gathered and she was provided for, especially as within a year she was once again married.    

I spent some time watching the 'West Somerset Railway' today.  This is what today is called a 'heritage line,' but to many of us it is just a Steam Railway, a remembrance of times past.  Several stations here have live camera's available, though apparently not Minehead where I believe the line terminates.  

Any such line deserves respect.  Many were closed under the famous 'Beeching Report' in the 60's, I wonder if this is what happened here?  Watching two steam engines pull around eight renovated coaches in either direction was quite impressive.  The fact that these locomotives, not always young when bought, had to be paid for by donation, renovated along with coaches, station buildings and track, and all by many part time volunteers is very impressive.  Remember also that such railways cannot cut corners, all British Rail legislation must be obeyed.  Operation at all times must be according to BR best practice, anything else, apart from not being true to life, can be dangerous.  Inspections are tough and costly, each engine must have the boiler replaced every ten years, and that is not just a big job but a very expensive one.    

I had the live shot from Williton on in the background, and it gave me a very good idea of what working on such a railway in past times must have been like.  Certainly there would be more traffic, including goods vehicles, and very possibly a yard at the rear with a large hut and a couple of lines, plus space for coal to be deposited.   

Usually such stations had a Station Master, a ticket clerk, possibly a signalman if they had a yard, maybe in larger stations a shunter engine with driver and fireman also.  There would be two or three porters, and as the station was open most of the day I expect there were two shifts to operate.  Today, at Williton I saw one Station Master, a signalman, and two "cough" not so young porters moving noticeboards and talking to passengers.  Who knows how many volunteers work at the busier weekends or during the summer? 

It appeared to me working on such a line in the past would not be a bad job, though possibly not making the worker rich.  In between trains there may be long periods of silence, broken only by various duties, including at many stations tending flowerbeds, while preparing for passengers and trains to arrive and depart.  Such silence today I found enjoyable.  I suspect that when younger I would be anxious for adventure, now however, I loved the silence while we awaited the arrival of the next train.  Winter time in such exposed areas might be silent also, but I suspect not be so much fun.

Railwaymen in the past did tend to remain loyal to the company, though not all companies treated them well.  Often men followed fathers, and their sons followed them.  A good secure job, with possible promotion or movement elsewhere, and a guaranteed employment for life, after all nothing could overtake the railway, could it?

I notice someone has already claimed the £184 million from the Lottery win last night.  This means nothing to me as you know, though I have checked with all my family, friends, acquaintances and people passing my door, just to be sure it is not them.  I would not wish anyone to be ruined by such sudden wealth...