Bacon

 

I took this picture eons ago while trundling up the old railway, or 'Flitch Way,' as it is called.  The name derives from the competition that takes place every leap year in what until recently, was the Flitch Pub' in Little Dunmow.  The winner receives a 'Flitch of Bacon.'  Like many such pubs this is now a restaurant.  Because of the size of the event the judgement now takes place in Great Dunmow.

The competition, which goes back many years into the 14th century, they say Chaucer mentions this, is simple in outline.  The idea is to find a couple who have not regretted their marriage since being married in the past year and one day.  The award is a 'Flitch of Bacon.'  Aggressively questioned by magistrates, and providing witnesses that they have not regretted their marriage once, a jury then decides the outcome.  

It appears few 'Flitches' were ever awarded!  

I wonder if any of my readers have gone a year and one day without regretting the marriage?  Of course you must ask the spouse this also, no magistrate will question you, no jury decide.  There again the bacon will come from Tesco if you had won. 

I wonder if I will ever ride that bike again?  I doubt it now.  Things do not appear to improve and I am losing interest.  I may have to find someone who needs a bike to take it on, do it up and have fun.  

I miss the Flitch Way itself mind.  A  two mile long stretch up to Rayne, busy at times with dog walkers, and how the dogs love it, people strolling along, and much further on the horse riders out for a trot. 

It gave some nice pics also.

Our History Mate

The exhibition goes over the 60's 70's and 80's, three dramatic decades for those who lived through them all, not always enjoyably it must be said.  The 60's were the best musically, so much invention and wonderful stuff from the USA west coast in particular.  On top of that the attitudes were very different, at least at face value level, at heart human beings never change.  The Hippy days if peace and love were a delusion but an enjoyable one, however for most they were hidden behind a veil of drugs that brought many an early death.
The 60's brought the Vietnam war among other things and while the 'West' enjoyed material prosperity (I got £5/10/- a week in '66) some 50 million were being killed in the 'Cold War' in Africa, Central and South America, South Eats Asia and elsewhere.  We were protected by 'M.A.D (Mutually Assured Destruction) and several million men spread across western Europe. A few thousand nuclear bombs kept some awake but not all of us.

Fashions changed somewhat and it is noticeable how many women donated aged dresses for the exhibition and not one man!  I suspect some men are still wearing things bought in the eighties, I would be but they appear to have shrunk in the wash.  I doubt my flares would fit and I seem to lack the desire to wear such these days.  80's fashion, like its music, was vile!  Men with permed hair and rolled up sleeves singing puerile songs did not do anything for me especially as we were faced with the totalitarian Thatcher regime.  Today Thatchers daughter lack both her brain and her heart and few would have expected that to be possible.  The 70's began well and for me was the worst decade of all however this changed near the end when God began to really do things in my life.  The music died around 1974 and was replaced by 'Abba!'  Platitudes, empty ballads and glitter ruled the radio waves, not in my house. 

There was of course two wars at this time, the Falklands war that generated much attention and the IRA Provos shooting people in the back in Northern Ireland generating the UVF and others to offer needless reprisals.  The UK got fed up with this war and wished it would go away especially on the occasions the IRA set off bombs around the UK.  London however (apart from me) did not panic in a manner we see today re Islamic terrorists.  We handled the Irish problem far better than the Islamic one I say.  
The Falklands saw as needless a war as can be imagined.  While ruining their country the military Junta decided to avert attention with a landing on the 'Malvinas.'  They lost around 3000 dead we around 3 billion pounds and a hundred or so men.  One or two ships went down and all in all the whole thing was ridiculous.  How easily wars can be begun for wrong reasons, how difficult to finish and how often those responsible walk away scot free.  Are you listening Mr Blair?

  
The Beatles are not what they were, I wonder if they have not been eating right?

The thing to have in the 70's for young men and no doubt a lot of females was a 'Chopper' bike.  These American styled bikes were popular but too flashy for me.  I had to use my sisters bike years before and others obtained what they could and added 'Cowhorn' Handlebars to their junk bikes.  I think I would rather have one of those than the 'Chopper.'
At the time I used the bus or a proper bike I now remember, cycling to London for a cheap holiday.  Ha! 

I know you girls all dressed like this when at work.

Mary Quant came along at the right time and changed fashion in the 60's.  Born in 1934 she became famous in the 60's with mini skirts, which I noticed occasionally, and other things I didn't.  She, unlike so many, married a husband and was still with him when he died in 1990.   At 83 she does not design much today I would think.  

Morning Has Broke

Stupidly rising long before I ought I thought to myself that riding the bike in the quiet of the dawn might be good for my knees.  So at 6:30 I trundled somewhat shakily down the road heading straight into a fabulous sunrise.  One thing that cannot be missed is the number of aircraft coming, going or passing over up above at this early time.  I fail to comprehend what time people have to leave to board a flight in far off places if it brings them into one of London's overcrowded airports at six or seven in the morning.  Fine if you have come from China but not so good if the departure point is say Vienna.  

 
There again the standard of public transport in this land is such that to leave from Stansted Airport at six in the morning and having to be there long before boarding means arriving the night before to await your flight, possibly delayed, or get some family/friend who owes you one to drive you there in the middle of the night. This of course is not helped by the dozen or so protesters who made it through the fence (again) to block a flight to attempt to stop a deportation.  Several flights delayed, this would affect other airports and a wee bit annoying for those catching connecting flights elsewhere.  I suspect these passengers will hope the courts decapitate the protesters rather than merely fine them.

It was difficult to tell, when slowly heading up the wee slopes, who was creaking most, the bike or me.  I suppose I must put some oil on it, maybe rub some on myself, and judging by the mushrooms growing on there this morning I think I may need to clean it also.  Still much to my surprise it worked and there was sufficient air in the tyres, just.

Half an hour on the bike and still stiff but now stiff all over.  Riding a bike in the quiet of the morn is a delight, unless you are wrapped in a Hi-Vis jacket and heading for work.  I always cheerfully greet such men. (Note no women passed dressed this way - again!)  Back to bacon rolls and seeking what I have failed to do on this laptop for the museum.

Rickety Ride

The rickety bike carried my rickety bones up the rickety old railway line this morning and left my rickety muscles more rickety than before.  I suppose this is called 'health.'  The sun shone and the people taking the week off took advantage to walk out with the dogs alongside the regulars.  This is fine as the dogs are happy, tails wagging and full of enjoyment at the aromas around them, some not always pleasant I fear.  For the first time in ages I made it all the way to Rayne, a full two miles of uphill slope and stopped just afterwards at this memorial to a deceased person.  Look closely and you note it is shaped as a crocodile, something which we have lots of in the pond nearby, and made out of one tree trunk.  Very well made I must say.

  
The plan to build hundreds of houses along here has met with much abuse and you can see why.  I understand why a farmer would willingly sell his land but this is a chance to escape the town and walk in a small bit of countryside, thousands of newcomers would not ensure a happy world here.
Note the old chapel now turned into a house.

The horses in this field never appear full of life.  I wonder if they are bored, tired or just not quite awake yet.  They always appear to be different horses, I wonder if he rustles them from somewhere?
They glanced up as my brakes squealed and quickly ignored me.

I cared not for their indifference as I was just happy to have reached this far and not had a heart attack.  The sun shone, people appeared friendly for the most part and I avoided all the dogs and got two children in one go!  A good day! 
The world appears happier when the sun shines and I had to make the effort this morning as another of those storms arrives tomorrow bringing wind and rain across the sodden parts of the country.  I feel for those soaked through yet again and join their despair as more rain arrives.  There is hope that this will be the last but all that water has to be dispersed yet.  
Now, where is the number for that lithe blonde lassie masseur...or is it masseuse?

Before Breakfast...

Long before seven this morning I trundled the bike up part of the old railway to look at the mist hovering over the land.  Even most dog walkers were still abed which indicates the chill in the morning.  The sun was dissipating the mist as I arrived, low lying clouds lay like an Edinburgh Haar over parts.  

To think a developer now wishes to plant several hundred houses here (plus GP etc) and the farmer is very keen to sell.  A couple of years ago similar plans for 500 houses were turned down after a long campaign, I suspect similar to arise now.  This is a wonderful natural spot, well cared for by the Park Rangers and so many houses will ruin it.  With this grasping governments attitude 'build and be damned' and a desperate need for housing this one may get some homes built.  There again maybe there is not so much need for housing after all, maybe stopping greedy Russians and Chines buying all of Central London and raising the cost of houses would enable Brits to obtain one already built?
Maybe encouraging people not to divorce might keep families together, support marriage rather than destroy it, tell single women to find their own accommodation when they have a baby rather than use council ones.  All such ideas will not get votes but could improve society.
We are being forced apart by the spirit of the air.  Independence and not community is the bias in the airways.  Self rights are more important than society duty, me first, and let others hang is the way.  Today parliament debate the 'assisted suicide bill.'  This is to allow people who wish to die to do so.  To many consider this a 'right' and others from compassion think it a good idea.  I remind them of the woman today who has been found to have written a note from her husband claiming he wished not to be revived, and she had poisoned him and written the note herself.  'Assisted suicide' is an excellent way to remove ageing or sick family members, especially if there is money to be found in the will.  I await their deliberations tonight.

I exchanged s few friendly words with one young lass as I grasped the camera expectantly noticing her dog, a golden retriever, wandering in and out of the wet grasses that abounded today.  I was glad I did not have to wash the beast when I got home, and she had another somewhere about also.  As I turned for home, my knees requesting this, I noticed this figure heading towards me.  She had the right idea, cycle alongside the dog, it makes him run faster and enables you to get home quicker! A not unusual idea and worth considering as the dog and you benefit.  Unless you fall off obviously!

   
High above holiday makers and a few business people headed elsewhere.  This may have been an inland flight to Edinburgh or Belfast possibly but it may well have had a European airport in its sights.  No-one appeared to wave from the window.   The thought that this seven in the morning take off meant the travellers probably left home at midnight or three in the morning to get to Stansted for the flight shows the problems re air travel today.  The flight to Edinburgh takes an hour, the preparation for take off three!  I may just cycle there next time.

After a massage from the Vietnamese Curry House and Takeaway Massage girls I might feel better however now I think I have been run over by a bus.  They say this makes you fitter, 'they' are not doing it....

A Day Trip

In Camolodunum again today, I travel the world you know, I discovered a church building I had passed but ignored for some reason.  This lay behind the Roman wall, note the red bricks and the construction of the wall, solidly built to ensure no more Boudica's attacked and burnt the place down again.  Amazing to see these walls, ignored by most through walking past them daily, these solid walls were erected in the first century and stand proud, if not beautifully, today.

This was the first time I had noticed St Mary's by the Wall, and naturally I first took a picture of the once elegant door.  It is likely a Saxon church once stood here, the Norman's liked to build stone churches where old wooden ones once stood, and this one dates back to the 1200's.   You can see the lack of respect for history as the lower walls are built using portions of the Roman wall!  The tower above is probably the only remaining original portion, the church was rebuilt in the 1700's and many unreadable tombstones stand there some from that date as far as I could make out.

During the English Civil War, which imperiously included invading Scotland by the Margaret Thatcher of the day, one Oliver Cromwell, the church was used for defence by the Royalist side as Colchester opposed Cromwell and the Parliamentarians.  Whether the people had a choice is not noted!  A man named as Thomson set up his gun there and directed fire on the besiegers until the many returning cannonballs brought him and the tower down.  The top of the tower has been renovated with red brick and shows in between the remaining Roman bits.

I wondered a bit about the sign above the door.  What kind of church is this that has a licence for booze?  A Catholic one looking after the priests?  An Anglican one with a thirsty vicar?  In fact it is a redundant building now used as the Colchester Arts Centre.  I didn't go in.  There may have been a chance to look around but I considered they may have an 'art' exhibition on and I would possibly express my opinion, and I don't like losing new friends...

The graveyard is a bit of a mess in truth, this was one of the better graves established in 1797 but imaginatively I forgot to check the name.  They clearly were important enough to have a block of stone and iron railings around their tomb.  Most of the others must have dated that far back, the town must have been on the up during the 1700's and wealth flowing in the right places, but the place is a sad site now.  Only one drinker was found there today and we shared a couple of words but clearly many more waste their lives here.  How sad is that?

 On the way to the bus driven by a man unsure of the braking capabilities on offer I once again was impressed by the war memorial.  This angelic creature is a magnificent example of war memorial of the time.  Totally ridiculous regarding the conflict but like many others a magnificent creation.  What soldiers thought I know not, but less was spent on wounded men's care than on this!

 

On the way home I bought two appropriate inner tubes for future use!  No fool me!  This time I spoke to someone who knows about bikes, and recognises an idiot also.  This shop ought to be nearer home I say!

.

Sad Saturday

In more time than it took to build the Forth Bridge I have fixed the puncture!  Indeed there is the proof!  The tale of missing spanners (that's wrench to you), wrong inner tunes, crass stupidity, trips to cycle shops, swear words even I had never heard before, and a new tyre at last it appears to be done.  I certainly have been.  In times past when I had a puncture I removed the old inner tube, inserted an awaiting good one and moved on, fixing the puncture in my own time.  This saga has filled my weary life for an eon, I just hope it is not flat in the morning or I may say something about it...
On the journey to the cycle shop by the free bus amongst a thousand kids going shopping for shiny things I cogitated on the drivers of this bus.  The journey lasts about two or three minutes depending on traffic, leaving from either stop about every twenty minutes.  The first driver appeared to have difficulty understanding the clutch, brakes and the accelerator.  The second, and the third, found it easy when parking to hit the raised pavement that enables prams and wheelchairs to climb aboard.  Today the man was so fat it was clear he had never used a Hula Hoop and his cheerless approach to the job implied he once drove buses in London.  Saturday traffic and the people he met may have hand a hand in his attitude.  Driving back and forth for a few hours may be enjoyable during the quieter periods but with millions of kids around I suspect it is less attractive.  They are all back next week to school, everyone, bar teachers, cheers!  
Today has not been good in many ways.  My technical incompetence has been a pain, even turning on the TV made it reboot itself, searching for all the channels and taking all day about it.  I lost a small cap and found it in a box, it took four attempts before I could get it out!  At Halfords as I paid for my treasure the machine printing the receipt gave up!  Just being me ruins things.  Oh yes, the cooker over light has failed also. And there was no football to speak off today.  I'm scared to switch the kettle on these days.

Tomorrow I will pray a lot harder, maybe if I spend more time with Jesus life will be more enjoyable than it has been lately. There again maybe if I had spent more time with him it would not be such a mess.  

 

Fun Friday, Bah!

This rain grubby window sums up today.  
The tired feeling arrived last week and has hung around, the past two days have been a pain.  Add to that the journey to fix the bike, and after finally fixing it I have just found the new tyre stinking the place with rubber aroma has once again gone down.  Ogh I am so happy!
I had bought two new inner tubes and both were the wrong type, they were for mountain bikes, not road ones.  The tyre fits mind and now I am staring through the grubby window forgetting all about it till next week.

There has of course been a lot of talk recently re migrants/refugees depending on your stance in the news recently.  I have avoided most of the reports.  The sight of a child lying drowned on a beach was too much to look at and the confusing loud voices telling everyone what to do helps no-one.  
Here we find Europe overflowing with people attempting to enter one or other of the nations.  Many come from war zones such as Iraq and Syria, others from despotic nations like Eritrea, still others just wish to enter Europe to find a better life.
In amongst all the noise I find myself with no easy answer to all this.
Many simple answers have been heard this week, one says let them all come, the other send them all back, neither are correct.  It is right to help refugees, Europe however expects them to be somewhere far away like the Middle East or Africa rather than at their doorstep.  Should we keep the refugees and return the migrants who want a better life and how do you tell one from another?
The laws of various states, let alone European law does not help here especially when so many nations ignore the law while struggling to cope with thousands who arrive daily.  
The UK government has been awfully quiet and rightly so.  For years the Conservative Party have had their lackeys in the media offering propaganda which stresses the danger of 'swarms of migrants' coming into England (note, not UK but England as that is where the 'British' Tory vote lies) and people, even those of keen brain, have swallowed this propaganda and believe we are being replaced by a new nation of foreigners.  Such lies keep the Tories in power, no wonder they say little about this problem.
Nothing was said for a while and now David Cameron who, believe it or not, is actually Prime Minister, did mutter something about taking some refugees (not migrants) and other lying words.  No numbers were given.  Germany is taking considerably more than we but that matters not as the lie also claims the UK is awash with Eastern Europeans taking all our jobs, living on the dole, begging on the streets, so we must not take even more from elsewhere.  Hmmm, many from Poland stay a year or two and return home money in wallet, the beggars tend to be from south east Europe, Romanians mostly and for them this it must be said, is a way of life.
So what to do?
One answer would be to deal with the terrors back home.  Encourage Saudia Arabia and Quatar to stop paying for the fighters in Syria and Isis in Iraq.  This could be troublesome as they have oil and money both of which are important to this country, especially this government.  Eritrea has a despot, he could easily be overthrown, why not?  Because he has no oil, in fact they have no nothing as far as I can see so the west cares not yet thousands from there come to Europe.  Nothing will be done to upset those paying for Middle Eats fights, Eritrea will be ignored like Darfur now is, remember that?  Afghans and others strive to come here, those who worked as translators wish to enter the UK but this government refuses them permission even though many friends of our army have been shot!  Other madmen have been allowed to remain according to their 'human rights' even if they were murderers or rapists, why not interpreters?
This is a confusing situation, no country wishes to make decisions, nobody really has a clue what to do, yet all around the cry is keep them or send them back and all the while people die or live rough.
What a situation.

During Victorian times when the police force was just beginning there was no established police station in the town.  Pubs in the Braintree centre were numerous, as were 'beer shops,' not pubs but places to buy beer, several such were found in this town.  With long hours of work, cold houses, possibly colder wives, many made their way to such establishments for food and drink.  Down New Street, imaginatively named after it was  created, stood four pubs that we know off.  There was the 'Three Tuns,' 'The George' and the 'Green man.'  These were known as 'Little Hell,' 'Big Hell' and 'Perdition' by the folks of the town!  This indicates problems at closing time, and indeed all other times, with the gentlemen and ladies who inhabited these places.  The fourth pub did not have such a nickname and I have forgotten its name, 'The Angel' perhaps?  
As a result of the problems with drunks the 'cage' was erected in 1840 to cater for those whose indiscretions merited a place to sleep it off.  Each parish council required to have such a 'cage' which explains so many 'Cage Streets' etc to be found in villages and towns.  This one has two cells, about six feet long, each with a bed of sorts along one side, the cell may have been designed for one but I suspect had more on Saturday nights.  No doubt most who entered pubs, like today, behaved themselves reasonably well (does any drunk behave reasonably?) and bigger families with many working could rent better housing and avoid the need to dwell late in such pubs.  These places at least were warm, offered company, entertainment often ( Music Hall grew out of these) and cleaned the throats of men working in local foundries where dust in the air was part of the job.
The cage was still used until 1875 even though a decent police station then stood in the town.  Now demolished and replaced by a 'Peel Crescent!'  The police developed over the years and now their hulking great station sits behind my head, all too often we hear their sirens at just the wrong moment, and I wonder if they actually have less officers on the beat now than then!   They all use cars today, George Osborne's 'austerity' has taken beat officers of the beat and allowed many crimes to flourish.  
The 'Cage' has been used by the militia once the drunks were removed, to store weapons and ammunition, and has lain empty for many years preserved by the local Civic Society.  Most do not even know of its existence, yet many had a relative who could tell them what the inside looked like before 1875!

Another Day of Joy...

 

As my technical abilities are way beneath my intellectual ones you can gather I am in quite a fix at the moment.  With a day or two to myself, although I almost had to work today and might tomorrow, I intended to fix some of the broken bits.  "Life is what happens to you when you are making other plans" sang John Lennon and he is right.

I brought the wheel up to fix the puncture, then I began to seek my grandfather and his first wife through Ancestry.  This meant I forgot the bike, except when I fell over the wheel, until today.  So I removed the tyre, pulled out the inner tube, discovered the puncture in a strange place and checked the tyre.  No wonder I got a puncture where there ought not to be a puncture, the tyre is falling apart, I thought it felt thin!  Anyway I reached for the new inner tube I was going to insert, then fix the punctured one as a spare, when I realised the new one had one of those 'Shrader' car type valves, eejit!  I took action, I dumped the lot and will visit Halfords tomorrow, it was too late today.

The other jobs, let alone the ironing and the trip to somewhere nice, must wait.

So it was back to granddad and his missing children.

He was born on a farm and ended up driving steam trains by the 1880's.  He also drank and this cost him his two marriages.  Plenty of kids from the first one, three from the second, from which I come somewhere down the line.  

I have found it difficult using both ancestry and Scotlands People to find any trace of some of them.  One poor lass is born in 1891 and disappears, I don't think she lived long but she might have gone to relatives in Newcastle with an older sister. Travel would be cheap as I think railway families went free and the journey would not be long.  One man is found in the Royal Naval Reserve but I have yet to get his record, another becomes a jeweler in Cheshire and his sister joins him later but what happens after that?  One daughter marries well, he had money, but she appears to die at 45 sadly.  So many stories but so hard to uncover.

There is a problem in that dad never spoke of his father, or at least so rarely I canny mind anything he said.  His mother moving them out affected him in that he determined to be a good father and look after his family, which he did and at some cost.  Not that I understood that for any years.  

Naturally I got involved in this and suffered yet another burnt dinner.

So tomorrow I may be working, i may be in Halfords and I may be grumbling on genealogy sites!

Summer Drizzle

Stupidity some say is inbuilt.  I disagree.  Stupidity of a sort is inbuilt, with slow thinking, inability to consider all options, a lack of concentration or care but this is not enough!  Oh no I can assure you this is not enough!  I inherited the family trait of stupidity but this was not early enough to enable me to fail so spectacularly as I have down through the years, oh no, I had to work at it and work hard.  Anyone can make it through life by being stupid, only those who practice can manage to grasp the wrong end off an electric cable, spray an aerosol on a fire or look down the barrel of a gun to work out why it was jammed -then pull the trigger.  These things take practice.

Anyway I have not down these things, recently anyway, but I did run about the town looking for tools for the bike and fail to find them.  This morning, as the Bank Holiday rain teemed down, I got myself ready to travel on the free bus to Halfords to spend money.  As I did so it crossed my mind there was a yellow tub with bike things somewhere under everything else, so I took a look.  Inside I found the yellow box filled with bike bits.  There was no tool to turn the nut however, that remained missing.  However removing from the box I discovered a mass of small items that once had a purpose and many that had been used once and forgotten, among which was a double headed spanner for turning wheelnuts on bikes!  This had disappeared an eon ago and now I knew why.  That said I still journeyed down to Halfords on the bus in spite of the now drizzle like weather.  A cloud lay over us, hovering just above the tops of lamposts drizzling on those who dared to walk out.

A wander through Halfords, being ignored by the surly chap playing with a very expensive bike, this revealed the tools I might need in any off a hundred situations if I was cycling far, not that I will be these days.  I bought nothing as I could not remember the size of inner tubes I need or much else about the bike.  Technical things were designed only to expose my stupidity.  At least I now know where to find things, the local shops being useless.

I wandered through the shopping centre, famous for the 'outlet shops' those who sell the stuff proper shops failed to sell, and was struck by the prices on offer.  Barbour for instance sell jackets worth £250 for £179, shoes retail at prices well upwards of £80 and more, other shops know suckers when they see them and even that early in the morning, drizzle or not, the place was full of families seeking goodies!

Yet did I see a happy face?  No I did not!

There are people in the UK who depend on foodbanks, there are many striving to survive on disability allowance or some other meagre benefit, always considered 'scroungers' by the 'Daily mail' and other Tory media.  Yet there is vast wealth in the UK and that could be seen by the cars queuing up to get in the car parks, the fat men bulging through their T-shirts (English men in shorts & T-shirts in spite of the damp!), and the miserable people buying things they do not need. 

Wealth makes us happy. That is, if we have enough we can be satisfied but always and ever there is something else we MUST HAVE even if it really is just a shiny thing that passes in a moment.  The eye sees more than the stomach requires, but we go for it anyway.  Our houses are full of things, things which have not been used for years perhaps, items that cost loads yet we never use, now we complain we have no money!  

Having endured a long period of pauperism, missing out on Christmas, travel, holidays, and new things I now find myself with a bit more in my new state of mere poverty.  The temptation to buy things because I can was real today, as was the sickening feeling when too many things are bought.  What I need, and there are many requirements that must be met, are not the same as what I find I must have.  Things for the bike were required, books I bought were more or less required, the jacket was required but did I need to consider that thing I pondered on this morning (a thing that I cannot now remember what it was!)?  The money was there so the object became important.  Maybe we have too much money floating around, maybe we would be happier if we wanted less and spent less?  People smile more in India and Africa so I am told, what does that tell us if true?

Meanwhile...

     

 Summer continues as it has always done...

Hullo Old fruit!

This is a bank Holiday Weekend, you can tell by the 'pitter-patter' of rain on the window.  I worry not but the dafties who drive off to the coast or other holiday spot to get away from it all soon join with thousands of others getting away from it all and fail to get away from it all.  It is however a change, apart from the rain.  
I am going nowhere.  The past weeks activities have worn me out.  Once you stop work it is very hard to start again.  For too long I have sat around on my behind and now I am so unfit that running around for a few days on the trot leaves me very tired at the end.  This week has been busy at the museum as so many are off sick, have to look after relatives or have disappeared that I and others have to cover up a wee bit more than normal.  Next week I am only down for Tuesday morn so that should make this week easier, unless another decides to run off.

For a start my knees were not keen, the weather too keen and last time I was out all was well however the other day I noted the tyre was flat!  How did that happen?  Something wee, like a bit of glass from the kiddies beer bottles round by the recreation ground, has got in there again. 
So having slept much of yesterday yet still found myself knackered today I eventually got round to finding the bits to remove the wheel.  They have disappeared!  The one tool that always turned the nut was not to be found.  I have a feeling it may have been licked under the skirting board and gone down into the messy depths that lie beneath the flat below, a messy 'Somme' like place that it impenetrable.  Nothing in the tool box fits to turn the nut! Nothing!  So this afternoon instead of my much needed siesta I went searching for bicycle tools.   I obviously went to the cheap shops first to see if any Chinese made equipment was available for less money than they were worth but I was unsuccessful.  This meant I had to wander round the two cycle shops in town and search the racks on the wall, this also was unsuccessful.  What can be the deal when two shops selling bikes have limited equipment that go with said bikes?  Possibly these tools are hidden away behind the profit making things like shorts, saddles, and er, bikes, but in one several items were marked 'SALE' but the label hid what the item on 'SALE' was!  How does he survive?
Two cheap Chines supplied shops failed me, Tesco had loads last week all removed to make space for CHRISTMAS stock, and two cycle shops had nothing on show that helped.  This means a trip to 'Halford's' where I suspect upstairs plenty of suitable odds and ends will be suitably overpriced but I canny go there until Monday, and as it's a Bank Holiday I suspect it will be chock a block with bargain hunters spending money of overpriced stuff they do not need, just like I sometimes do but will not admit to myself.  

I decided on a fruit and healthy pasta lunch, I thought it would keep me on the run, and it did!  On Wednesday at work one of the trustees and I compared beer belly's and it was not a nice sight, almost like one of them maternity gatherings most men rightly ignore.  The problem is coming home after a day out I am not in the mood to fuss, just eat and sleep I say.  It is only with free time a proper diet can be made available.  Of course once I get the bike fixed, if I get the tools, and by means of a sensible diet, if I bother, I can exercise, unless the rain comes back, and eat well, if I have time, and then I will lose weight, be healthy and enjoy winter and the cold, wet, rain and snow with eastern winds driving hail into our faces for months.
Sometimes I wish I was not so optimistic.

  

Something to Crow About

After an indolent Sunday in which not much occurred I forced my bundle of lard out on the bike for twenty minutes this morning.  This was not a good idea.  For a start the engine was not happy, indeed it was heavy, lethargic and worse still facing the eastern wind.  Strangely the enthusiasm of the other day had left this engine and the grunting as the speed touched four miles an hour was similar to that heard at women's tennis matches.  Also I met the early morning boys racing to work, some indeed awake but one or two clearly far from it.  Those chaps who have to cover 15 miles before eight o'clock to get into work were not happy to be stuck behind me avoiding the holes in the road, especially as they only had fifteen minutes to cover the ground.  It also did appear that if the women's cycle race does come this way in June then a lot of roadworks will be required.  Lots of drains at the side are two inches deep from the surface, some surfaces are very rough and recent repairs are sinking already.  I suspect more late night overtime for some is coming this way soon.
I survived the main road and turned off down the side streets to avoid the wind and found it there before me.  Quite how it knows where I will be at any one time is interesting.  Also many workers were beginning the day with a Monday morning smile as they backed the car out, walked the dog or shouted at the kids as they prepared for school.  Always a gentleman I allowed them to go first, smiling indulgently as I have none of that stress these days and I was busy dreaming off the breakfast that my weary hulk was desperate for.
Going down the gant (see Gant) as I headed for the teapot I stopped at the noise high above.  These trees, oaks mostly, have for many years, possibly hundreds of years, been home to the crows (or are they Rooks?).  This is a sample of the nests high above with a few of the birds cawing loudly, very loudly if you are trying to sleep in the house at the foot of the trees, cawing and jumping about while preparing for Spring.  In a few months young birds will arrive and spend the day screeching loudly, so loud you can hear them for miles above the traffic!   I wonder if these houses sell well?

Now it's home for a healthy Multiseed bread breakfast with lots of healthy stuff to keep me on the run. The deepening gray sky flowing in from the east indicates life will not offer much fun today and I may well spend more time hurting my eyes on the laptop rather than enjoying the world outside.

Later.
Typical, the gray sky forecast faded away and I could have made more use of the time.  Bah!  Ah well, back to bed to make up for it...

.

Morning Cycle for Fuit & Veg

Just after half six this morning I got on my clean, oiled, yet still rusty in many places bike, and forced my knees to whirl me around town.  As the blinding sun rose I snapped with my new camera, a present from above, this bird enjoying the rising warmth while trying to avoid the chill in the wind.  All around the birds were either finishing breakfast or like this one sitting in the sun awaiting a mate. Spring is in the air indeed!
The early morn is a lovely time to be up and about.  Traffic is slight, only those forced to work bleary eyed pass by, and occasional dog walkers, just as bleary, mutter 'Good morning' while following the English manner of pretending they did not see you until you speak.  The dogs are more open about their thoughts.  

   
'Ichabod' and I have been together now for almost 18 years.  One day I will ensure everything is in the right position and that the gears are at the right tension, until then we travel on happily, but very slowly! These days many have become infatuated with professional cycle racing and this area is flat enough for those who consider themselves manly enough to wear Lycra and tear along the roads for a hundred miles or so.  I worked with one or two who have done this around here, I am not one of them!  The term 'flat' maybe true in comparison to the Scottish highlands however I can assure you there are hills and long slopes which while a delight to go down are a pain to go up.  My attempts at the 'manly' approach failed long before 'Ichabod' arrived.  
Thinking on this in a couple of months the women's cycle race will pass by my door.  A letter recently fell through the door informing me of the road closures etc.  Such a shame the 'Tour de France' came close last year but never passed by my window.  At least the roads will get some treatment and we will all benefit from that.  Canny have a cycle race where potholes exist.

In an effort to stop these virii that keep giving me nasty symptoms I am endeavouring to eat more fruit and veg.  After getting off the bike I hobbled, slower than usual, round to Tesco and obtained some of the goodies from there and the rest from my usual fruit & veg man.  That done I have already stuffed a healthy breakfast down the throat and am convinced this will keep me on the run! An attempt must be made to eat more fruit and veg as it is better for us than the muck we normally have.  So much we eat contains things that do us no harm if eaten occasionally but build up and make us suffer.  No wonder kids go mad with things when they are pumped full of sugar and additives and things we do not get told about.  I am reminded of that biblical king who went mad and ate grass like a donkey for seven years. The reason was obvious, Daniel the prophet refused the rich foods given him and ate veg, he remained healthy, the king stuffed only with the richest food became toxic and the grass cured him, though slowly. I am told this has been recorded elsewhere among others also but have no links.  I am sufficiently donkey like in every way to wish to avoid being found in the park amongst the pigeons and crows early in the day eating grass.  The council would not like this.

Now I have the day before me and my knees are beginning to seize up, I'm back off to bed!