Good Friday

This morning I awoke at five thirty and noticing the sun was rising, the sky blue and the streets empty I decided to get on the bike and saunter along the road. The thing is my knee problem has meant I walk at a slight angle and this has resulted in my other knee developing muscle trouble. The bad weather has limited my walking and cycling and now I have resumed the muscles are clamming up. After sitting for a while I really struggle to get going. So the opportunity to exercise and loosen up was not to be missed. A long straight, gentle, run down Stane Street and round the old haunts eased me into the day.

After dumping the bike I walked around in an attempt to avoid stiffness. This was excellent as the birds were singing in the trees and all around fabulous bird song was heard. Small birds, unseen high in the trees sang out so loud they must have been heard miles away. A thrush watched as another small bird fought to bring a worm out of the ground, and somewhere what sounded like a grouse or something of that kind, called from the wooded gardens of the big houses. As there was little traffic the natural sounds could be appreciated more. However I suspect the birds and squirrels and other beasties helping themselves to the chips and half eaten burgers left by the cretins who drop the stuff as they wend their way home from the towns pubs appreciate their breakfast more than I enjoyed their sound.

Wandering down I took a few pictures of the old houses that reflect the wealth that was once found down that way. While one or two pubs still exist all the shops have been turned into homes and the once bustling bakery. These houses still cost a fortune as the middle classes spend over the odds for listed buildings that enable them to live amongst 'their people' even if the buildings themselves, while romantic, are somewhat uncongenial. In fact this road is very busy and the traffic passing by not only shakes the buildings but leaves them covered in black filth. This does not deter as they are mixing with the folks who matter! My pictures are not that special, if you like that sort of thing try A Changing Life, a laid back relaxing blog, or My Thai Friend, some good pics and reading there.

As I passed I found a damaged female blackbird sitting in the road. I attempted to pick it up and place it in the park itself as there was not much else I could do for the beast. However it flapped away from me and I was just upsetting her more. She must have hit one of the few passing cars and appears to have damaged herself underneath, possibly just her leg, and hopefully this will heal with time. Had I caught her, apart from putting the bird in the park to avoid traffic, I have no idea what I could have done.

Good Friday, the day we remember Jesus went to the cross for us. The world continues on its way, ignoring him for the most part. It was ever thus. Jesus chose to reveal himself to the world through his people, and the church spread throughout the world not by spectacular events, which fade, but by a changed people. If Jesus people lived the way he told them to it would spread further today. Jesus reaches folks one at a time as they respond to his actions on the cross.

Sunny Sunday Afternoon

I decided to walk the two miles up to the village today, then realised how far uphill that was and took the bike instead. Dressed for October I discovered the sun thought it was August. Quite why it thought August was October it did not bother to explain, I find the weather is like that around here!

The 'Sunday drivers' were out today. I discovered how thick the paint on several cars happened to be as I zigzagged my way west. The jacket I wore was excellent at keeping the chill of the wind, noticeable when going down the hill at 12 miles an hour, and even better at keeping the heat in when struggling up the other side and just over snails pace per hour. All part of my weight loss programme I lied to myself. Naturally, the one set of traffic lights in the vicinity decide to change to red just when my old velocipede and I arrive there. It must be said I had by this time no reason to apply brakes! As my foot hit the ground, and I looked all around me to see no vehicles in sight, the lights change and off I start, bouncing over the holes that are never filled in and just avoiding a car that appeared from nowhere!

I noted the one Indian restaurant in the place and wondered if there was any part of the UK, or the British isles at that, which do not contain at least one of these places? The British these days live on Indian or Chinese takeaways. Curry, in it's many forms has become the number one dish among the populace. So much so that some restaurateurs make fools out of us. One enterprising chap, in Sheffield I believe, decided to start selling 'Balti Curry,' and it became a national dish. years later I discovered that 'Balti' simply means 'Bucket!' Most of the folks here remain in peaceful ignorance of this, not that they would care if told of course.

Further up I passed the typical English village pub, into which I have never ventured, and noticed folks sitting at the tables outside, something never done in Scotland. I found this strange when I ventured south in days of yore, as Scots pubs had frosted glass windows and severely closed doors. As kids we would attempt to peer through the cracks and work out what was happening until some gent informed us of our need for a belting! Down south people regularly stood around outside drinking, I was amazed! Of course, a form of Calvinism and the ten degrees of colder, much colder, weather were the reasons behind this. Keep the drinking hidden and keep the drinkers warm being the order of the day. The drunks seen on the streets in all towns and cities were of course seen there in the past. However it had not become a media story, and most of the media were in the middle of it then anyway. I suspect they still are. One pretty lady lounging at the table did glance in my direction. Failing to interpret my look as 'Give us a drink luv,' she instead gave me a look mixed with ridicule and contempt, mostly contempt. This, along with her large half filled cider glass, her blond hair and scowl, reminded me of two others of my acquaintance, both up north and probably indulging in similar activities as I went on my merry (?) way.

In the course of time I reached my objective and headed for the old railway line. I hesitated as I approached as I noticed it was very busy with cyclists pedalling past and Essex girls pushing prams. (Are you sure you are 16 dear?) However I joined them and began the lovely slow (If the brakes work) descent homewards. I say slow but was fascinated by the number of men, often in their forties, who were pedalling furiously downhill! These nutters have a need to wear shorts when on a bike, the English have this abnormal desire for wearing shorts, if the sun shines get out the shorts even if it is freezing, they reckon if the sun is out it is warm! Something not right with such folk I say. However, while they exercise at speed I meander along, enjoying the birdies singing, the sun dappling the trees, "Praise God for dappled things", the dogs ignoring everything bar the smells found around them, and the pretty girls doing their best to ignore me as I pass. Lovely all round I say as I talk to myself on the journey.

Naturally I now sit here with aching muscles slowly stiffening while I wonder how a short time ago I had little problem cycling up and down these slopes, especially the down ones. Soon I will have to choose between walking outside to ease the knees or stuffing my fat face with whatever I can find in my neighbours dustbins and call it 'curry.' I think I know what will win, and it will not have any cider to go with it.

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!

The Morning Cycle Ride

Shrouded in gray damp mist I wandered off on my morning 'get fit' cycle ride. This consists of struggling along being overtaken by schoolkids on BMX bikes designed for jumping over skate board ramps, and old folks with zimmer frames meandering past me as I come to the hilly bits. However I ignored their comments as well as I ignored the pain in my knees. The ides of cycling was to provide stamina, long lost while looking for work (unsuccessfully so far), but all it does is revive the aches left from the postie job! Now I'm not one to complain but when I feel worse after the ride than before I feel something may be amiss!

Today I ventured along quite happily around the old postal round. Because of the changes to the postal routine introduced by the madmen who now run Royal Mail very few postmen were to be seen. The time changes have altered everything and I suspect the new, man on my old round would be far from ready to begin by the time I creaked past. Eventually postmen will work from 7-3, this means deliveries on most rounds will not appear till around 9 am or later. Still, folk complain when they strike but not about the loss of the service element nor the increase in prices which, soon to be, privatisation will bring. What a shame change could not be brought by sensible management!

But I digress again. I find I often digress these days, I am not sure if it is Alzheimer's or just being 56 years old that does it. They say that after fifty you spend an hour a day 'just looking for things,' I agree! Back to the bike. I pushed it along at a marvellous speed, for me, and noted the changes a year brings. The round covered a 'rough' area and some quite nice streets, although I always liked the folks there and enjoyed the work. Some folks have moved on, possibly more have failed to keep up the payments on the house bought from the council, the 'Right to Buy' idea being one of the stupidest of Thatchers reign. I noticed the fellow from No 6 must have moved, there was no broken windows to be seen, of course he could be inside again. The old woman who used to annoy me so much must have died, she would never have allowed them to knock down the fence so they could park the car in the lawn, and the Thomson's seem to have moved. She did not like me as she always complained of getting mail for next door by mistake. When I took over this occurred again, and she was real unhappy. The folks next door were not the nicest you see, and she worried they had her mail, an easy mistake a 6 and an 8 looking similar to a postman in bad light. Naturally I informed her that it was not me but the other chap and I would look out for her. Next day I gave her No 8s by mistake! How do you spell wrath?
However even after a year away other folks did remember me, and that is always nice is it not, it means I have made a mark in their lives, the bricks however all missed.

Another small point I noticed today was the Englishman and his approach to the weather. As the day started murky and misty, as the weather forecast told us it would slowly clear, and quickly come back again, how does the average Englishman dress? In shorts and T-shirt of course! He struts about in shorts designed for Greece, with his sunglasses balanced on his shaven head, designer polo shirt or grubby T-shirt with 'I'm with Stupid' scrawled across it, and thinks he looks cool! He must be, every other person you meet has a warm jacket of some sort on! Just because the sun is shining and the sky is blue does not mean it is warm. The sun is shining and the sky is clear and very blue at the South Pole but it is 40 degrees below! Tsk!

Summer Birdsong

Cycled out into the mist this morning. Quite thick in places but soon burning up as the sun decided to rise. Came along a pathway lined with aged trees and bushes on one side. I had to pullover and sit there listening to the birds singing. A thrush was high in a tree overhead and difficult to spot. However I found him and watched him call for a while. Was he calling his mate, or maybe hers? He was too big to be new born anyhow. Flapping among the branches indicated a wood pigeon chasing off a rival, leaves and feathers falling as he made off over the school field. One of the birds then set to 'cooing,' possibly praising her brave mate. A young tit appeared, nipping quickly among the branches, feeding on whatever he found. A blackbirds sang high in another tree, possibly they are old oak trees but I am not sure. In and out of the branches birds flitted singing brightly, while in the distance the crows cawed to one another raucously.

A wonderful enjoyable short period of time. Listening to birdsong and watching them go about their business. If it becomes possible to add to these sights and sounds the fragrance of newly cut grass and of a wide variety of flowers and blossom, it is possible to imagine in some small way what heaven must be like. There will be no bad smell there, no rotten decomposing matter, just the best that we have here magnified multitudinous - if that is a word! Sunshine, birdsong, fragrance, how I love these small things. This year more than I have ever done, I appreciate them.

Exercise

OK so the weighing machine groaned when I stood on it, and the plastic cover on the dial flew off, but that does NOT make me fat! Anybody who is out of work and spending too much time sitting at a broken computer could easily put weight on. Especially when it rains outside, or the neighbours complain about the noise up above them. This hinders exercise you must understand.
However, when said machine creaked a wee bit and the dial read 16 and a half stone (that's 231 lbs to the uneducated) I decided something must be done.
So it was out on the bike, along the flat streets a couple of days, and up the old railway line yesterday. Would do that more often if those dog walkers waited until I passed. You have no idea how many pooches wait until you cycle up to them then meander in front of you! Today I not only went down the flat road, and the long way round, I also walked for a while in the sunshine.

Now I realise just how unfit I have become. Puffing and panting in a way I did not do four years ago! Working for Royal Mail did my knees no good at all. I used to go long walks but now struggle after half an hour. Losing weight will help, but I wonder if the knees will ever be the same? The arthritis under the right knee won't help, but that also makes me walk at an angle. This is something that is getting worse. I came across Nina a few weeks ago and she was shocked at the change. That was worrying. However, with the cycling and walking, with the weights I lift and the other exercises I reckon I will lose the fat stomach, feel better, think better also, or give up and be a slob! Things must change. getting a job, with the routine etc that goes with it would help, and being healthier might help me get a job. What kind of work needs fat slobs.

And when were are on the subject, why do folks use the word 'obese' in the media when they refer to fat folk? Are they ashamed? Or is 'fat' not educated enough? pretentious misuse of words by the media folk I guess. I am heading for 'fat,' and that in the big belly area at that. Not 'obese,' just 'fat,' and it's disgusting!

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.

Great Saling

Went for a little jaunt this morning. First time in years I was in the mood to cycle. The sun was up, the wind a bit chilly, coming from the North and all, but not too bad I thought. I cut across to the old railway line, now called the Flitch Way, and trundled uphill into Rayne.
This is an excellent way of using old railway lines. Walking, cycling, or in some parts at least, horse riding along them makes a grand day out. With blossom on the bushes and trees, birds singing overhead, the remnants of what appear to be badgers setts, and of course rabbit holes aplenty, there is much going on all around. Middle age women jogging , younger ones jogging with a push chair, can also be seen. Hope the kid appreciates it!
Stopping on occasion and just listening is worthwhile. Not much sound, a bird or two, rustling leaves, something dashing through the undergrowth, not very exciting maybe, but after town life a welcome change, and just plain enjoyable!
being brave or stupid I decide to venture down the Shalford Road. I knew it went on for a bit, but I intended to cut off and make my way past the old Andrews Airfield, and once again wonder how B17s took of from there during the war! Those big lumbering airplanes, loaded with bombs, on that small field trundling uphill and rising into the sky one after the other must have been some sight. And, I imagine, some noise too! The thoughts and feelings of men in their teens and twenties heading over the channel and crossing well defended enemy territory known only unto themselves. The thoughts and feelings of those left behind, giving the orders, not much different.
However, I passed into Great Saling and decided it was a bit much to continue down the Stebbing way, not being sure how far it was and all that, and instead made my way back past Blake House farm and into Rayne once again.
Country roads, when not being used by white van man or baileys feed lorries, are refreshingly quiet. Sure some use them as a chance to pretend they are in a Ferrari at Monza, but I found few, and most were careful of the bike. The road allows time to stop and stare at the fields and the distant hamlets. To wonder what history has gone before over these quiet places. Who has passed this way in times gone, the famous, the infamous, the vassals working the fields as slaves, or the big house owners jealously guarding their lands.
Did any leave these fields and join the 'peasants revolt' all those years ago? This area certainly took part. How many had survived the plague? The fields, now worked by one man and his machine once had twenty or thirty at one time working all the hours God sent. What work that would have been at harvest time!
Airmen, drunkenly making their way here from Braintree or Rayne, winding up the hilly roads, not that hilly but try it after a few pints mate! Vassals and peasants. Lords and Ladies,Kings and Queens maybe passed along this small narrow, roadway in times past.
And here was I also!
Great Saling has little to show the world. The 'Orangery,' whatever that is, was clearly an important red brick complex from times past. What it is now I am unsure. A few old world style thatched houses and little else to see. The village shop has closed. How will the gossips get their news now?
Back down the rail track and home and into the bath was all that remained.
An enjoyable way to spend your leisure, if the sun shines!

Cycling Idiot

Royal Mail bikes as you know are old, but stout beasts. On the front they have that nice little basket to hold the huge bag of mail the postie will endevour to deliver that day. This is a fine idea.
However, at the end of the day the postman has several of these bedraggled red bags on his bike. 'So?' You might ask, but probably will not bother asking, as you are not reading this are you? Anyway, at the end of the day the postman has too many bags on the front of his bike. There is little in them, except packets folk are to pig ignorant to be in when they arrive, and 'signed for' letters, and the occasional missort, which we will not mention as they are not supposed to happen. So, the man has five bags on his bike. A handfull of light letters in the topmost bag, and heads for home.
Home is the sorting office, you know, the one at the bottom of the hill. All he has to do is drift down the hill and round the bend (something he knows all about going around I can tell you) and up into the bike shed. Simple. Only an idiot could fail to accomplish this simple, straightforward chore.
Ah yes, there is one thing. The wind.
See, as you go forward the air pressure around you meets you. On the bike this 'wind' is much more noticeable and can hold you back. Indeed, when going downhill, as our hero has to, means he meets a bit more of this air coming up to meet him. This means the topmost bag, you know, the light one with not much in it, tends to rise of the basket and fly up into the air.
Simple again. Put out a hand and push it back down. Easy.
Well, yes. But, if the bag begins to float to the postmans left side, and a taxi is right behind him at the time, and he is negotiating an obstacle, and he then loses control of the bike and the front wheel juts against the kerb, then what?
Then I can humbly tell you, he loses it altogether!
He stops pushing the floating bag, sticks a foot out towards the ground, lets go the bag, grabs the handlebars, far too late, feels the bike going from under him and heads for a meeting with the pavement. That's what!
Why is it he asks afterwards, that the taxi does not stop, GIT! But the next car does, enquiring after your health, and wondering if the taxi had hit you. Again I ask why is it that behind him are several other cars, each occupied by men sneering with straight faces and leaving you feeling embarrassed and with a bruise on the shin?
I don't know, but I am that man. Where's the germoline eh?

The Old Railway Track

Converting old railways into country paths has been one of the better ideas in this nation. Of course we had lots of them, and few were of any other use, so make use of them I say.
Being Thursday morning few were around. It was gray and sort of drizzly at times, and the roads on the way there were a bit wet.
I have not been there for at least three years and in times past I went up this way almost daily. Not much has changed but improvements have been made. The track itself has been relaid, and at one or two notoriously muddy areas drainage and tarmac paths have been installed. This makes a huge difference from previous days. Not much fun attempting to ride the bike through several inches of mud. A new bridge has been installed avoiding the need to risk death crossing the bypass. That was fun, and with the new road installed this was a good use of cash!

I crossed the bridge but halted there. It was far enough for today.
Spent a while staring at the fields and wondering why God and I are so far apart. Well actually it is because of me, not him, so why do I ask? But it was good to talk.

It was good coming back, as there is an optical illusion on the way. It looks like you have a climb ahead of you, but instead the track gently slopes in the homeward direction. Great on the bike as you can pick up speed if late, and gently glide if not.

Enjoyable but brief time. Nothing like seeing grass and trees to relax the mind.
Funnily enough, when I came near the village I resented the intrusion of all those houses.
It just spoilt a good happening!