Meandering Waffle

I managed to survive the big day on Sunday, 'Textile Day' was a roaring success and by a clever trick I survived this day - I stayed at home!  It appears the multitudes did arrive, did spend money, did buy loads of cards in handfuls, did gossip, admire and altogether have a real good time.  I had better, I stayed in bed.
Tuesday however I was warned of a group arriving to visit, this soon occurred.  One woman arrived just after ten when she claimed they all would be meeting, ignoring the women gathering outside.  Eventually another woman arrived and then they came together to the prearranged meeting with one of my many bosses.  However still they women arrived, all of dubious ages, as there was a second group meeting here but not informing us, and they happily gathered themselves together slowly until they all arrived much later than planned.  It was however not their fault.  
This at a time when we have just begun to replace the heating system therefore half the museum is out of bounds.  Plumbers and staff, not me I must not leave my post, spent the day moving, clearing, carrying and hiding things while I attended to the ladies.  

While one meeting went quickly, as quickly as any all female meeting can go, the other group sauntered around examining each item and discussing its merits and meaning. I did not listen in, I had my own opinions.  The girls happily spent much time on each exhibit, and some it must be said are very well done, before coming in to the shop on the way out and spending money!  This was pleasing.  Such exhibitions do not attract great crowds during the year so to see groups making the most of them and enjoying themselves, and they appeared happy, was a good thing.

The laptop has been playing up.  It has been running slow and I have run all the proper items to speed things and also removed and altered other items.  On top of this the online banking has not allowed me in, so I must spend time changing all the info to see how much I have not got.  All this takes time as I also have been sorting out all the items on those memory sticks which are lying around.  These have become somewhat confused and there are several items (big items) on more than one disk and often twice on that!  
During this process, in between the grunts, swear words and oops I've closed it down somehow, reactions I have been discovering old pictures.  This one taken at Sandbanks a while back.  How lovely to be there when the sun shines, or indeed at other times.  At one time I considered moving there but it never felt right, which is a pity as I miss the sea and friends are there, but they at least are happy so that is one thing I suppose.

This Lightship was based at St Katherine's Dock positioned as you can see near Tower Bridge.  These one time busy docks had been transformed into residences of a variety of ships and the warehouses around contained shops etc and flats above for the upcoming rich.  In the late 70's I wandered down Wapping High Street, until then I had always known High Streets as laces full of shops and businesses but here I discovered, in between the empty spaces left by WW2 bombing, towering warehouses on both sides of the street.  A bit run down and seedy with the occasional burnt out church or ruin but quiet enough at the time.  How many people worked alongside these buildings?  How many famous or predecessors of famous people walked up Wapping Steps off shipping in days gone by.  How many foggy London nights saw ships rocking gently in the tide?  In the 70's all this had gone, only an occasional moored barge on the far side reflected the distant past. When I wandered there in the 90's these warehouses were now expensive flats with their own 'Oddbins' wine shop at the foot in easy reach for the trendy residents.  The two up, two down, houses of the late Victorian era had not survived the council planners even if they had survived the blitz.  Modern housing, expensive at that, filled the area outside the ex-warehouses and sleek cars sped past where once growling lorries or horse and carts had pulled their loads.  

Now you folks with any sense will regard this picture as boring.  There is a reason for this, it is a boring picture!  It is one I took some 20 years ago when I first had the bike and sauntered out around the area looking at the sky, dangerous on a bike, and watching green fields with strange crops therein.  Having sent so many years in the concrete jungle this was refreshing to the eyes and the locals could not see it because it was just always there!  I could see it and enjoy it, no matter how boring such pictures appear to be.  All around that road there were fields, they must be similar today, crops pushing into the sky cheering the farmer and possibly encouraging wildlife.  I am not so sure such fields help wildlife myself though the number of fields left fallow under EU rules has meant these fields do encourage birds and bees and other creatures to thrive.  I did however here a warning that rabbits, once covering the UK have disappeared from many areas.  In Scotland some 80% of rabbits have gone, about 60% in the rest of the UK.  Why I did not hear but many birds are also failing, sparrows are less in evidence and the Swifts that must soon appear are less in  number each year.  Maybe people have taken to eating rabbits rather than use foodbanks...?

Bread, Bacon, Cheese and tea.

That was what I had for breakfast after I toiled up the old railway for another heart attack exercise time.  The problem with strenuous effort is that the hulking body that causes women to stop and stare requires fuel.  Now I had actually gulped down a fried egg sandwich before I left at six this morning, well 7:30 after I ate breakfast, but once I returned and walked to the shop for fresh bread I got tempted by the grub on offer.  

  
I have lived here 18 years now and still cannot get over the delight of passing green fields, country views, blue skies and the wide open spaces found outside the town.  Sometimes I wonder how and why we live in cities?  When the air is warmish and the beasties abound the mind is refreshed from all the gunk poured into it during the day.  

I returned to the gunk myself and continued searching for dead soldiers.  While interesting it drives my mind round the bend.  Happily I am on to something different tomorrow.  Life changes at Easter.  The kids swarm around the streets in packs, the girls with their noses in the air and their hair in a bun Victorian style, the boys trendy as always and as intelligent as a packet of peanuts!  

Is that house looking at me?

The politicians have taken the two weeks off to fiddle their expenses and travel the world on jollies! This means we will have less serious news, apart from the obsession with that South African murder trial, and the plane lost at sea.  The media forced to stay at home will be desperately searching for anything that will fill space no matter how insipid.  Hmmm maybe I ought to make a splash somewhere!  

Look, bunnies!  As I passed I noticed lots of bunnies making the most of the dew on the grass to have their version of bacon sandwiches.  This is not always a good thing as many farmers creep around at this time with shotgun in hand.  I heard several bangs this morning as I meandered along, young crops do not require rabbits says Farmer Jones!  Sad in some ways but if they are not culled they will destroy the farmers livelihood.  There were masses of them out today. As I wandered past the eggs, small eggs, packets of eggs, fluffy chickens a chocolate bunnies I wondered what has this to do with Easter? Even the 'Easter cards' had little about Jesus, indeed nothing but a flowery cross was on show, yet this is Easter, without him rising from the dead we would not be wasting money on all this chocolate!  Why are shops scared to say so?

I kept hearing the 'Beach Boys' song 'Country Air' as I pulled muscles all over my body.  It suits this place better than sandy Californian beaches I guess.  Not that I have seen the sandy Californian beaches, I did once see the shore at Southend however.  I breathed fresh air, listened to little birds chirp, almost fell over a dog or two and decided bacon for breakfast tomorrow and let the bike rest, it needs it.   

  
.

Warmed up Leftovers

Ah!The open road, the sunshine, the fields, the people left at the bus stops because the driver was talking on her mobile to her friends!  How lovely to travel, on an empty bus!  How lovely to have a bus pass also! 

The clock has adorned the tower of St Peter's since 1866 and if you look closely you will see the words 'Redeem the time.' Also above these are the two keys, usually associated with Peter as he was given the keys of Heaven and Hell.  The Roman Catholic Pope of course has usurped this and claimed descent from Peter, no matter that Peter was never Pope!  This of course is an Anglo Catholic church so it is no surprise to see this thereon.  In 1692, long before you were born, this area suffered an earthquake. This upset the steeplejacks who were working on the tower when this event occurred.  Their first reaction was not recorded but they did inform the world that an opening large enough to put your hand in appeared in the tower.  Little real damage was done, although a chimney pot was lost in one house, and no doubt a more willing attendance at church on the following Sunday!  Such events do occur occasionally in the UK, usually most people sleep through them as these are minor events, but on occasion people notice.  

Can you read it now?

Essex churches are a good way to reflect history.  The buildings themselves are amended during different periods, sometimes on government authority, the memorials reflect those who attended and often considered themselves important in the Parish, and the cemetery itself reveals much about the locals of times past.  In prominent place here at St Leonard's in Lexden stands an impressive Great War memorial.  Today we find the phrase used on these memorials, 'Our Glorious Dead,' somewhat embarrassing, however for those who lost relatives, and middle class areas such as this would lose many officers during the war, a great desire to see their loss as worthy appeared.  With the vast numbers who died it was imperative to see their deaths as required and not wasted, people argue about that still.  There are 38 Great War names on the memorial and somewhat surprisingly 32 from the Second World War. Usually the Great War numbers far outweigh the second.  What does that tell us I wonder?

The church began here in the 12th century when, and I kid you not, 'Eudes the sewer,' promised to two thirds of the tithes to St John's Abbey in Colchester.  In those days the church was keen on those who offered cash!  By the 1400's when they were offering the Gospel the church authorities were less keen however.  The Lexden church was one of the richest 'livings,' for many years. This reflects just how wealthy the land around this area could be.  Crops and cattle predominated in early days but sheep appeared around the 16th century. A surprise this as Suffolk, just up the road, became rich on the wool trade in the early medieval days.  During the days of Reformation the usual infighting occurred between various sides of the debate and by the time all this has settled down the building itself was becoming somewhat careworn.  In 1822 a new building was erected and a new chancel added in 1892.  The buildings around this are comprise not just many from medieval days but a large number indicating the wealthy Victorians found this town to their liking.  The road from here into Colchester proper is lined with what can only be called mansions and these were added to in the early years of the 20th century.  A great deal of money was around this town!   Some of these can be glimpsed on Google Maps.

Glimpsed as the bus crawled home behind a queue of traffic, probably that tractor from yesterday still heading for his field, we see the harvest gathered, the hay bales rolled out, and all this from one machine completed in one day. Thomas Hardy would not understand farms today just as I never understood nor read much of his boring books. From the Open University days I recall his story concerning a threshing machine, based on a report of the time regarding a threshing machine.  The engineer who came with this machine came from the north, probably Yorkshire, and sounded a rough, sour bloke.  Going from farm to farm he aided their work and made few friends.  There were umpteen hands to deal with the threshing then, one combine today!

A place I must take my wee camera to lies five miles down the road, depending on which road sign you read.  This large village has many medieval and on houses, a great deal of money also as antique shops used to dominate here. The TV series about a flash antique dealer in the 1990's was filmed around these parts, what was that single word name?  I admit I never watch that sort of thing but would look just to recognise the background.  Maybe if the sun shines this week I will get the bus pass out again.  The clock tower?  No, I don't know either!

OK, class dismiss.

.

I was here today.....

Another epic journey of four miles and 35 chains, and back again!  Wot?  A 'chain' is a measurement used on railways, and in other engineering works, it measures 66 feet, or 22 yards, or 100 links, or 4 rods.  10 chains equal a furlong, 8 furlongs a mile.  Railway distances are measured in miles and chains from the starting station.  Each object, bridge, station etc, is listed as so many miles and chains from the starting point. By inquiring in my book on this railway line I can tell I cycled around this distance.  The doubtful bit is me getting to the line which takes a few minutes.  So today I went a mere 9 miles, almost!  This 'Halt' was added to the railway to encourage passengers during the twenties.  Bus travel was hitting the railway money, which was never strong, and folks walking the half mile from the village would hail the train, climb the steps lowered  by the guard, and go their way. 

D Trevor Towe

How it was done. No doubt 'Health and Safety' would stop this now!

Early morn but the sun was already high and I made several attempts to capture the light rays coming through the gaps in the trees.  The problem was the sun was too bright, something the camera and I are not used to dealing with.  Out of the treeline the sun made everything too bright to capture easily.

The brickwork on Victorian bridges is much admired however every so often a weakness arises.  Possibly this one took cracks from bad weather, rain turning to ice and over time developing cracks that threatened to collapse.  Only one house lies over the bridge, a farm, so what passes can be quite heavy even though the road is only occasionally used.  The repair will hold it up, no doubt for years, and also allow people to pass safely.  However it is not worthy of the original architecture, but it will be cost effective and safe.

Naturally real life returned during Andy Murray becoming the first SCOTTISH Player to win at Wimbledon.  The brats over the road have somehow managed to make something catch fire. Who knows what it was, I could not see for the trees, but these firemen will have a busy time in the sun, there is always someone setting dry haystacks on fire somewhere around here.  Tsk! 

.

Sabbath Day

Some of you may be aware of the existence of Jerry the Rebel down there in Missouri or Arkansas or one of them cowboy areas of the US of A.  His well read blog 'As the Crackerhead Crumbles' may well be known to you.  It may also be coming to an end.  Poor chap has been somewhat unwell (as well as being clearly sick in the mind, which is why I like him), he has been somewhat unwell for a long time.  This has now left him with a lack of feeling down his side and it is possible he has had a bit of a bummer here.  He may not be posting for a while, and if you never glanced at his quixotic (what?) blog make sure you do now, before it either ends or his wife takes over!  

Before seven this morning I had managed to trundle up the old railway for the first time this week. I was so early there was not one dog walker to be seen before  I made my way back.  The sky blue, the vegetation very well fed by the rains, and a lovely wind blowing me all the way home.  Just a small touch of green is something we need each day.  Quite how I survived London I sometimes wonder.  The sights, sounds and smells off the country are required to keep us mentally and physically alive I say!

On the way back I was once again intrigued by the sun shining through the water at the nancy boy fountain.  The green spot is sun interference, not a lamp on the fountain in case you wondered.  A strange fountain, erected in the thirties, but the sun playing on the water is magnificent I reckon.  

I had intended to photograph the chimneys on this 'Arts & Crafts' type house a while back and managed this morning when all was quiet.  I had not realised that all three chimneys were so very different.  Whether these were used by the builder to show his talents, a permanent advert or 'spam' if you prefer, I know not, but they do make me stop and think when looking at them now.  Three totally different approaches to the same simple job and each a masterpiece in itself.  Well done to the builder, whoever he was!  Sadly I have no note of his name and this building does not appear to have been listed!  

A 'friend' of this blog has sped this on to me as he claims the female readers of the blog would benefit from studying this carefully.  This 'friend' added his thought that 'Ironing,' 'cooking,' 'cleaning,' and other 'female jobs,' could be added to 'sewing,' and the ladies could benefit themselves by practicing the advice found here and benefiting their man by a wise use of sewing when the football is on so as not to disturb what he referred to as 'their Lord and Master.'  When I enquired as to why this was not posted on his blog he muttered somewhat and came up with, "Too much on there at the moment."  Not sure if I believe him.  

His address can be made available for the correct amount....... 

.

Countryside

This picture is for town dwellers.  If you live in towns and cities, not both at the same time, you will probably not realise that underneath your house/flat/slum there is a thing called 'earth.'  Outside of towns the food that appears in plastic wrappings in the supermarket comes from here. Some of the food grows by itself in the ground helped by nothing more than rain, sun and a ton or so of chemical warfare which, the government assures us, is 'healthy.'  Other items on your plate grow by eating the green stuff called grass, you may find some growing through the spaces in the wall if you look closely, and these creatures are called 'animals.'  These are divided up into sheep, cows, pigs, chickens and if they go under any other name check out it does not come from South Korea.  


When at the Open University, failing to obtain a B.A. through poverty, sloth and total ignorance, I discovered that around 1801 (in England, as English historians ignore Scotland, but I am not one to complain about such racism) the majority of the population lived in the countryside. By1851 fifty one percent lived in towns or cities and by 1901 the vast majority of people were crowded into the urban slum that was the home of the 'Greatest Empire the world has ever known.' I have come to believe that this does indeed affect our mentality.  We need to see greenery, animals, trees and nature to keep our heads clear. That is why so many of us rush to get out of towns and even the Victorians came to realise that public parks were required in built up areas.  That appreciation of the need for green space resulted in the housing estates built just before and after the war.  Many three bed-roomed houses, with gardens front and back, are to be found throughout the UK.  There are often green areas, roundabouts with grass centres, and reasonably wide streets.  However a look at housing built in the last twenty years shows that while the design of the houses are often in keeping with the area in which they are found these house are often crammed together in an effort to get as many as possible into the space, partly to supply enough houses, mostly for profit!  The green areas, gardens or open spaces, are very limited in comparison to those designed in the forties.  The sense of being hemmed in increases among those living there.  Estate agents call such areas 'popular,' and postmen will inform you that they have many 'redirections' for these houses.  Some from people who find they cannot afford the cost, some from young folks living together too soon, and others from those who realise a new house is not always a joy to live in. I used to have six or seven 'redirections' on my old house route, my friend John had so many it could take him an hour to attend to his!  People need space, a decent green area front and back, and natural daylight.  City life offers to little of this, and I know about city life!


It is only recently I realised how little contact most of us have with creation around us.  Do we realise where our food comes from really?  As kids we were well informed about this but we also had a view of the distant world, farms nearby and a good instruction from our parents, who really 'never had it so good.'  Too much manufactured foodstuffs, supermarkets that push rubbish onto us in our weak moments, and a life full of haste leaves us missing out on something I think.  We need individually to get into green areas, look at animals in their natural setting, or walk along the sea shore. Some call this a 'spiritual experience' but it is not 'spiritual' it is just our need for the open space and the natural world around us.  It is re-creative for our heads stuffed full of life.

Country Air

For the first time in a while I cycled, slowly, up the old railway line. I went around eleven as it is quiet then and stupid me forgot the kids are on holiday. Therefore as the sun was shining the families ponderously made their way up the line.  The kids chatting to all the dogs that passed by, when that is they were not wandering through the bushes, the women gossiping about nothing and blocking the way for normal human beings going about their lawful business. The dads being dads, carrying the bags on their backs, sometimes alone with one child, as indeed were a granddad or two, and making me miss the not so young kids way up north.  In one way this was nice to see, in another they just got in the way! A good day out and of course I ache all over now. I must get out more, as people often tell me.


I was attempting to add the 'Beach Boys' song 'Country Air,' because this came to mind when sitting enjoying the sun, greenery and fresh air.  EMI do not allow this (are they not the folks who turned 'The Beatles' down?) so find it on 'YouTube' and hum along as you read.  I was indeed 'humming' when I got home.  

A good day also in that I had a £5 off voucher for the new 'Morrisons' supermarket. The staff, for the most part, are very friendly, you can tell they are new to this game, and I will certainly return next Friday - I have another voucher!  This means that this small town has three large supermarkets represented.  Tesco have three stores, one which has just been redeveloped. Sainsburys have one which is about to be redeveloped and they plan another so big it will replace a small industrial estate! There is already a 'Lidl's' and now the Co-op has closed 'Morrisons' have moved in.  Just how much do the thirty five to forty thousand folks here eat I wonder?  I spent £16:98, and that was after taking advantage of the voucher to stock up, consider how much others must be spending on things they can afford but do not actually need?  Being poor makes me careful with money and I tend to notice prices more.  I also notice how folks buy things with little thought and choosing the label not the product!  An expensive item will be brought rather than try the store version, even though they are just as good nowadays.  Something is bought because it has always been chosen rather than because of any worth it may have.  The tricks of the store also make us all spend on things we don't want and they laugh all the way to the Swiss Bank where the directors store their ill gotten gains. I prefer 'Tesco,' but I will suffer 'Morrisons' for one more week as I use up the last voucher.

.

Escape to the country

Escape to the Country is a programme  designed to aid country type people, 'townies,' to find a rural idyll that they can call their own. I like this programme. It enlivens our covetous nature as we watch a couple, always a couple, and sometimes some pretty strange couples appear on this show, we watch a couple wander about several houses wondering if this is 'the one,' and mentally tear down walls and build families. (Maybe they should keep the last bit to themselves of course?) We covet both the money these people have to spend, usually in the regions of £300.000 to a million or so, and then dream about the house we wish to possess, all the while shivering in our clammy cave sitting over the last candle to keep warm. But do these people know what they are doing I wonder?

The presenters give lavish information regarding the are in which the couple desire to find a dwelling, the green country, the deep blue sea, the history and the communications, all with a smile and a cheery disposition. And yet I have never heard mention of the ducking stool or the witch burning, the wife swapping is ignored and there is never a mention of what they did when they caught that poacher! Do these incomers not understand why Agatha Christie set so many of her crime stories in villages? Do they think 'Miss Marple' was an invention of the author? These were not novels, they were news reporting! Yet not one word of this is mentioned by the cheery presenters of this country. 'Community' is mentioned many times, especially when speaking of the local pub, the presence of the Post Office, and of course the small shop. Yet the pub is not called 'The Jolly Hangman' for nothing! The Post Office was closed after the little old lady running it was done for murdering her 'toyboy,' and the small shop is run by a sour spinster and her brother who has not been right since he was mortared at Monte Cassino! If you hear strange noises in the night it is just him 'passing through' the garden. It's best not to look out......

When the house buyers have finished grumbling about the insufficient 19 acres of land, the problem with the upstairs toilet, and wondering if the house, priced at a mere £850,000 is for them, nobody mentions the curtains twitching across the road. Do they not know that while the farmer, desperate for income, is happy to sell them an extra 'bit of land' for an arm and a leg, the curtain twitcher has already worked out a plan to stop this happening? No voice will be raised amongst the unsmiling, unless they are being paid, villagers about the reason the woman of the house is so eager to 'do a deal.' No voice will mention what, or who, is lying at the bottom of the village pond either,will they? Ducks are often found in such ponds, but surely the programme presenter must have thought an alligator a bit strange for the Cotswold's? I would love a country house with an acre or two. A little wood at the side, a wide panoramic view, preferably of the sea, and the money, and justification, to possess such an abode. However I would be careful about where I buy, amongst whom I would dwell, and remember the story of Lot. He 'saw the land was good,' and it turned out to be Sodom!

Enjoy your house hunting.

   


 

           

Market Day

One thing about small town market day s the number of yokels who arrive from the rural areas. You can tell the men at a glance. For one thing they are strangers whom you never see in the normal run of things, and in a small town you often see the same faces day by day. For another they look like country folk! We live in politically correct days in which stereotypes are not allowed to exist. We are not allowed to recognise swarthy Mediterranean types, blonde Teutonic Germans, or badly dressed loud Americans, but they do exist no matter how much we deny this. The stereotype of the somewhat gormless bumpkin, out of place in town, appears here on market day. They usually wear flat caps, have uncut hair, and jackets that were bought in a sale one January not long after the English queen took her throne. Their boots are not fashionable, and have not been since Gladstone left office, and the men all too often have bicycle clips just above the ankles, even though the wife brought him to town on the once a week bus. Without a tractor to get around on, a spade or saw, or any other violent looking implement in his hand he feels awkward and as out of place as he feels. He is of course right to feel this way. His lady often is no different from the regular run of girls in town, and one is left asking how on earth they got together? Cynics would put forward the theory that as close relations it was a family duty to marry one another but they are just being rude!

Of course their accents give them away. Not only are some of them so loud they would deafen Italian women talking to Spanish señoritas but it sound like 'The Archers!' As country folk round here they only use vowels of course! Aye EeeOOOhhhh IIIIIIiiiiiiiiiii YOUUUUUU is the sound when the men talk, although they do tend not to talk unless spoken at by her. Often she is asking why he is looking at the 'Bull' and not listening to what she is saying about the stalls.
In the past I delivered to a small village just outside of town and there was a very strong 'village' attitude about the place, not always a bad thing of course. One male had all the indications of a life spent working in the fields. he also retained the surly inability to smile when passing, a 'grunt' may have escaped him but it could just have been deep breathing. This creature had a wife, of similar age, and every month the book club box would arrive for them. I looked at it one day, and considered the couple in all their glory as I read 'The Romance Book Club!' I suppose with Farmer Jones's ploughman in the house she didn't find romance too often there. At least not when he brought the oxen home for tea!

Interview

Today I had the first interview since being banished by the doctor all that time ago. I had expected to get a bus there but at almost the last minute I decided to cycle! Just as I was looking at the 'Google Maps' and considering my options it came upon my twisted mind that it was in cycling distance. As I have done little cycling for one reason or another I thought this a brave decision. However the sun shining in the cold air put the idea into my mind so off I went along the old railway line called the 'Flitch Way.'

The sun shone and with what wind there was behind me I made good time up the gradient. This is a great way to use disused railway lines. As I passed by starlings and robins ducked in and out of the bushes. Squirrels scoured for sustenance and happy dogs, tails wagging, led their owners along at pace. In the dip to my left the mist was slowly being burnt away as the sun warmed the land, a wonderful sight, but not maybe for those on the bypass passing through it! I had left far too early as I was unsure how long the trip would take in my unfit state, however I arrived just over half an hour after starting off!

I had brought my camera and wandered along the side roads looking for foto opportunities. Few really, although I came across a very old and substantial house that was almost overgrown with vegetation. In good condition it would cost around £700,000 at least yet here it was, two abandoned cars in what once was a drive, decaying and surely unsafe! What a waste, and the design on the chimney made me wonder just how old the house was, certainly nineteenth century. The idea of living out here with open fields in front and behind was enticing - if you have money and vehicles. Not so sure I would want to live there during bad weather of course.

The actual interview went well. The company looked well run and the despatch department was very well set up indeed. I was won over by its organisation and efficiency, and the men in charge were clearly able. However, the knee speaks louder than cash and well run organisation.
This work would mean being on my feet all day, every day! Add to that the up and down nature of obtaining goods to despatch, organising the store, parking the goods while awaiting UPS or whoever, this would all add up and I reckon it would be too much. If postman's work was too much then so, sadly will this be. I'm much tempted to this job, but with the knee and the lack of desire to lift and carry just as much as I did when I was in my twenties I am afraid this is a dead end. This of course does not mean they wanted me! There are several others to be interviewed, but I think they will have to do it, both for me and the companies sake. At least it was an energetic day out in the country, and my bones are even now indicating just how unusual it is for me to cycle that far. Ah well, as I creak and groan I will once more look up the 'situations vacant.'

Time to burst into tears again!

Dry, Sunny Essex

When I came here eleven years ago, I was delighted to discover Essex was the driest county in England! Fantastic! I was also under the impression it was one of the flattest. Combining this 'little Holland' with Global Warming I thought I was on to a good thing here. How wrong I was!

Within two years I received anxious phone calls from relatives worried about the money I had borrowed, asking if I had drowned in the floods. Naturally they were delighted, at least the piggy banks were, that flooding only happened at the bottom of the hills, hills which I thought did not exist! Flooding did take place, and has done since several times. A combination of heavy rain and swollen rivers makes for uncomfortable living. This begs the question, why buy a house at the bottom of a hill next to a stream? And the houses bought are not the cheap ones either. What drives folk to seek houses there? Could it be that is where 'the right people' live? You know, the middle class folks, 'our kind' as it were. Certainly a more intelligent, less class conscious type might move to a better place, but I digress.

The hills. Yes, there are hills, and steep ones at that. I did not notice them at first, but once I got on the bike and found myself struggling up slopes I had not noticed before, then I noticed them. Once I began delivering mail by bike, I noticed them even more!
Struggling up a hill with a twenty five kilo bag of mail aint no fun son I can tell you! Naturally, in such a job as that, there is always one who has to claim he cycles up daily with no problem. We all tend to agree with folk like that. The cycling is no problem, it's the lies that irritate! Why is there always a man who has to boast of his prowess when all and sundry know he is lying? Not only that, he knows we know, but he goes on pretending he is fooling folks, and even impressing them. The word 'tosser' is appropriate here.

Essex, county of hills and rain after all. But on the other hand, there is indeed more dry days than wet, more chance of a hosepipe ban than a flood. More chance of my lottery win arriving than daft middle class types buying houses they actually want than just because they are with the 'right kind of people.' Could be worse mind, I could be in some city centre. At least I can always see the sky here, even if it is overcast and light gray at the moment.

Sunday, A Day For Seeking God

At least that was the idea. It seemed good at the time! So when I woke this morning, for the second time, I noticed there was a mist outside. Not much point in having one inside I suppose, anyway, I decided that fitness was important and climbed on the rusting bike with my rusting body and headed for the old railway line. The intention was that I would stop at places, contemplate God as I looked at the country around, take a photo or two of misty scenes,and plod home to continue the seeking. naturally the place was busy. Not 'High Street' busy, but plenty of folks walking their dogs, jogging or just wandering up to the village for whatever purpose. Not much chance of a meditation here. The one time I stopped, as I puffed up the incline the steam trains of the past never noticed, it took seconds for folk to appear in the distance. Hey ho.

So it was back home in due course, and meditate in the bath. Well, doze was more like it as the exercise had failed to stimulate the mental capacities that once resided in the cranium. It took only a short while to decide that protein was required. Salmon and assorted fruits and veg saw to that, and it helped. The theory that a good breakfast is required to survive the day is clearly correct. if there is time of course....

However, by tuning into Premier Radio, http://www.premier.org.uk/Index.cfm?bhcp=1
and listening to the noon worship time life changed. While I was struggling to read the book, and finding my head filled with despair at my unbelief and lack of God there the presenter read a psalm that meant a lot to me. Don't ask which one as I forget, but the words spoke of Gods care and I was lifted suddenly out of the pit! As the bland inconsequential praise so loved of Premier continued, I found myself crying out to God as I had once before in the distant past! Emotion or Spirit? I do not know or care, but this has carried me through the day.

I wandered out later and accidentally came across Sunday football in the park. As the rain slanted sown and the adolescent players struggled with the hill and weather, I found myself just enjoying the rain and the game. I took this as from God and stood happily in the rain for a good while before deciding prayer was what I was supposed to be doing. Back home I read while listening to Premier. Tiring of the blandness of the music I searched out other Internet radio stations and found one in Ottawa playing worship music with a bit more bite. CHRI FM is worth a listen. http://www.chri.ca/chri2/viewpage.php?pageid=67
It done me a lot of good today. I found one or two others that had good thumping music, but this made reading while listening easier.


I find myself tonight wondering where I am after today. Am I nearer God? Have I given myself through the cross? Am I letting him in? I am loner, I always want to be in control and have always resisted letting go, am I nearer that, and have I done enough? Lord please say.
Whatever, today has had many positives. I am glad for it.