Prison

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It was reading comments by several of the 'gentlemen' who post on here that got me thinking about locking people up. It certainly was not something in my mind at the time, the thought just grew slowly.  Anyway in days of yore around here they had the right idea what to do with scoundrels! 

This is the old 'lock up,' used for depositing drunks and such troublemakers during the 19th century.  The law regarding beer sales changed in 1830 and public houses, and the troubles that go with them, flourished. The narrow passage here led between two streets, one of which contained four public houses with little to admire.  Three were known to the locals as 'Little Hell,' 'Great Hell,' and 'Damnation,' which may give tend to give a false impression. Pictures of the poverty in the street, none alas online, show that this was not a rich man's area and the impression was clearly right.  That I suppose is why the lock up was placed here, near to home, as it were.  What did they call the fourth pub I wonder?  Softy, perhaps?  An 1860 photo of the eleven police officers does not give an impression of tender loving care and social concern.  Apart from one who looks at least seventy years of age the others convey an impression of 'determination' to accomplish the job, whatever that may require.  There was of course no PC, PC's in those days, and persuasion was at the end of a truncheon. Noticeably only one does not have a beard, yet he does have a moustache. While this was fashionable I suppose before the 'safety razor' it was also practicable.  I suppose the cost of being shaved regularly in a barbers shop was too much for many folk. In some army regiments of the time a moustache was regulation!  

The night accommodation was only sixteen feet long, yet was divided into two cells. Just how many were crushed in there on a Saturday night is not worth pondering. The conditions would be somewhat nifty I suspect, but on the other hand these would for the most part be regulars.  The homes would be pretty shabby for a great many at that time, even in this small town.  While many houses were built as the town flourished it was the middling classes who could afford them, and I doubt they would have used this street for an evening out.

Usage ceased in 1875, probably when radical changes to jails throughout the land reorganised policing. Ne prisons were built under the influence of Jeremy Benthams 'Utilitarianism' philosophy, and his mates Chadwicks eagerness to change society, to save on the rates!  The town got a new police station, attached to a courthouse so the drunks and assorted louts could enjoy a more comfortable night, and then be fined in the morning!  When I was a lad in Edinburgh we had a fear that, if drunk, we may get dumped in the High Street cell kept for that purpose. This was rumoured to be one large cell full of whatever drunk happened to have pushed his luck, and not all of these chaps were as amiable as I, and this could be seen as 'uncomfortable. I am sure Mike S. knows more about that side of things than I do however.  I never used it, because as you know, I'm nice.

This Lock up now stands empty, it appears to have no use whatsoever, however as a listed building it will be kept as part of the town's history.  Just what tourists wish to see, where the drunks were caged!  The Territorial Army used it after the police left, to store ammunition!  I suppose that was in the hope an explosion would remove the rough street and the pubs with it.  However they were swept away some time ago with radical redevelopment and an ultra clean shopping centre happily overcharges all and sundry while complaining about high rates and taxes.  The public houses have gone, as indeed have many others in the town, and those that survive, or have been created in the last few years, make their way to profit based on live football and food and cleanliness.  There are, I am told, still skirmishes in the evening at some however. I am in bed by that time of course.

Braintree Cage

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Sunshine Saturday

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This was an attempt to catch the early morning dew glinting on the brightly coloured floats at the children's shows in the park.  There is something about the early morning sunshine, yet I fail to catch it well with this little camera. I would have attempted some more but the guy running it was out and about and I spent a time chatting to him about his life, the goods left behind by people et al.  By the time we finished the sun was rising higher and my breakfast was calling loudly! I thought about some pics here yesterday but frown upon taking pics of kids in case some neurotic wifey jumps on me! The colours are attractive but when I was a lad the real 'shows' ('fairs' to the English audience) were what we visited in the dark!  When I was about four the began to arrive and the noise, lights and possibilities were a huge attraction.  I loved those small kids roundabouts that featured well made cars and buses, which you could actually climb upstairs on, and other such vehicles. By the time I was ten I was fascinated by rolling those big old pennies down the slot in a vain attempt to get rich, it never worked. I was no young to appreciate that you never win on those!  I remember staring into the dark night sky, the great 'ERF' lorries in the background, noisy engines running to power the lights, as searchlights beamed on a woman balancing on the end of a pole a hundred feet in the sky!  Actually as she twirled and swung herself around it was probably only about twenty feet high, but I was not that tall then either. My sister, fifteen years at the time, had a stand up fight with my dad which I can clearly remember.  She and her slightly older mate were off down to the 'shows' to meet the men working there and dad was worldly wise enough to ensure she was not going to get there, she didn't!  Ah memories, so long ago, and now I forget what I was doing a few minutes ago....hmmm what's that burning smell...?  Oh the oven...




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House

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This is one of several houses around here designed in the William Morris,  'Arts & Crafts' style and built around 1900, give or take ten years either way. Morris was one of those well to do middle class socialists that arose during the nineteenth century.  Adrift from the really poor he did aspire to create a more egalitarian, liberal, society while also developing his own art which showed up in textiles, writing and poetry. 'Arts & Crafts' basic idea was the promotion of the individual craftsman as opposed to the increasing use of machinery. This of course led to the finished high quality product being very expensive, and well out of the reach of the lower classes, and the middle classes also preferred the cheaper mass produced textiles, wallpaper and fabrics. Buildings such as this also show much in the way of craftsmanship, although as there are several like this about I am not sure how much the builders merely followed a mass produced plan!  Surprisingly I have noticed this building is not on the 'listed buildings' site either. Maybe they are not worth that much to the listing people?  Mind you one sold for around £400,000 recently, but not to me!

Somewhat typically the last day of Summer was overcast by white clouds accompanied by low temperatures. The first day of Autumn yesterday saw the clouds lift and the sun reappear. Today I strolled out wearing my disgusting old fleece jacket and found the air very warm indeed. High above the half naked young males attempting to impress the half naked young females soared the seagulls as they whirled about vulture like, slowly making their way the the estuary around fifteen miles away.  There they spend the night, on the water I suppose, before returning with the dawn to live off the land. I wonder if they do this the right way? I realise that my little camera could not get any closer to them, and they may be found as little dots near the bottom of the picture, but it is difficult to focus when some sixteen year old nymph is sunbathing nearby.


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Down at the Labour Exchange

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Few people realise that Winston Churchill was responsible for the 'Labour Exchange' coming into existence.He, while President of the Board of Trade, along with Beveridge and Lloyd-George, brought about great change in the United Kingdom during 1909, and one of those changes was the Labour Exchange offices. The labour market at the time was confused and there was much 'casual employment,' and this new system was combined with the introduction of 'Unemployment Benefit.' Many forget that while Churchill was very evidently an aristocrat he also took the view that his position gave him a paternalistic duty to care for those less well off, something Margaret Thatcher and her spawn David Cameron have never understood! Many also forget that he was also a member of the Liberal government at the time, and urged the introduction of pensions at that time also. He had indeed belonged to the Conservative Party and had 'crossed the floor' off the house of Commons to become a Liberal, and more importantly, take a powerful position! Later he recrossed the floor to join a Conservative government, power being more important than party, indeed as it should be I say!


Today I visited the Jobcentre, the modern equivalent of the Labour Exchange. I have been signed on by a Polish woman in recent days.  This has caused much chagrin as she fails to understand what is written on the 'work sheet' I present because she is Polish and does not truly understand things in the way other members of staff have done successfully so far. Today I noted she was happily engaged in aiding a Polish family to fill in forms while I waited.  Although I was not waiting long I found myself becoming a 'Daily Mail' reader and began asking (to myself as the security guy is a big fella) why all these immigrants are coming in here taking our jobs. (I had read this sort of thing in the DM that morning by the way) I found myself fretting over the time she was taking, are piling up questions to ask her like, "Is your family settled now?" and "No wonder I canny get a job!" The family left clutching the paperwork and went on their way. She then spent some time chatting to others about her task.  I waited, offering dark glances and unuttered expressions in her direction.The EU has many advantages, and considerable failings, and this does allow people to travel across Europe to work. This is fine, but does hinder indigenous employment, where jobs actually exist in the first place that is. Nothing wrong with this in itself but sometimes it is an irritation. How terrible to be thinking like a 'Daily Mail' reader. I will be avoiding tax, hating Muslims, and demanding independence for England next,from my warm, safe suburb in the Surrey countryside. My musings were then uninterrupted as a voice called me! Not the Polish bint, the girl sitting around the corner. This one sweetly signed me on and cheerfully threw me back out onto the street where she considers I belong.
I had been fretting for nothing! The Polish bint wasn't dealing with me today! Maybe, just maybe,  that is why she was smiling?  All that fretting like a lower middle class, 'comfortable,' white, Englishman for nothing.
Isn't it just the way?

Autumn begins tomorrow

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Early Bank Holiday Morning

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Even dullish gray skies can produce great colours.  Unfortunately my ability with my wee camera does not enable em to capture the colours as I would wish.  I can however enable a perfectly flat field to look as if it is the foothills of the Alps. I have many shots of the west coast of Scotland showing the Isles of Rhum and Eigg slowly sliding down the Atlantic towards Skye!  Maybe my posture is incorrect.  The cycling on such a morning is easy as even the dogwalkers may be away for the long weekend, and those that remain hesitate to leave the comfort of their duvets. 'White Van man' is also noticeable by his absence, as are the rushing women going from school to shop and back to coffee morning and gossiping as they do (something men never do). Anyway, with their absence it was possible to move along the highway without fear of an F1 driver rushing past and I huffed and puffed (believe me!) up the hill (like the Matterhorn it is) to the fields where creation can be admired (while I breathe deeply).       

I broke off, OK I fell off the bike while using the crumbling path alongside Farmer Jones fields and as I lay there I pondered the aircraft seven thousand feet or so high above me.  Whether this one was climbing I doubted, he could have been passing through on his way to Scandinavia, or beginning the long, slow, figure  movement that lowers him down to earth once again. Either way I decided that as several crows were beginning to eye me up as carrion I decided to carry on (did you see what I did there?). I took my fill of the countryside, the stubble in the fields, the trees moving in the wind, the birds gathering their breakfast, the beer cans by the pathway, broken bottles when young males had impersonated their fathers, and wise young girls kept their distance.  Waving cheerily to Farmer Jones, well frantically actually, he was pointing his shotgun towards me, I decided to move on towards my own breakfast.    

  

On the way I shot this pic of the sun attempting to burn through the haze high above the pylons.  I swear these pylons are moving. Every time I pass there are more of them and I am sure they are gathering together like in some Hollywood Sci-Fi movie. 'The Day the Pylons Broke Free!' coming to a cinema near you.  If it did I bet they would find a way of putting a sexy blonde in the middle of them. Anyway I was pleased just to point the camera directly at the sun through the cloud cover.  I missed out the by-pass just below, I thought it spoiled the pic somewhat.

What do you man 'Bored?'

Anyway I passed the river and with one or two changes f position I managed to take a shot that looked country like.  I missed the houses being built next to the river, on the area where it has flooded regularly for the past hundred years or so, and I avoided all those orange plastic workmen's signs that the kids thought needed a bath. The darkness of the picture hides the routine litter that the ducks have to wade through daily.

I suspect they will enjoy the new neighbours, as when it floods they can pay them a visit and float straight in the windows.   

Oh and yes I have mentioned this car before.  It has been there for at least 15 years that I know off, but the doors appear to have opened!  Do you think the owner has attempted to start it perhaps? I should point out the house looks just as bad and I think he owns the two boarded up dingy shops that have lain like for many years also. I wonder why?  And you thought I was a scruff!


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Sabbath Football Joy, as normal.....

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Heart of Midlothian 2 Hibernian 0. Goals from Stevenson and Webster saw off the feeble challenge from the 'hump it and see' wee team.  The 'flair' with which they are famous (one day I will add that to the list of 'Myths that have no source,') was seen to be long balls up to the dope wearing the No 9 shirt. He fluffed it, several times!  Besides the usual attempt to decapitate and injure our innocent players the opposition offered nothing worth mentioning.  It was however pointed out that a club famous for having incompetent goalkeepers had a star man in their goalie today, and he still lost! 


The new shape of the Heart of Midlothian continues to develop.  Another season at the top end of the table is for us to expect, while the wee team suffer another season avoiding relegation.  While our noble players receive treatment for the bruisers obtained today they will rest, in between guzzling champagne, and while the fans indulge in reminding friends who support the Hibs, if they can find them (I appear to be persona non granta from one Hibs board) that Hearts are once again dominant, the Hibs folks will be in their beds!  I suspect the only thing Hibernian will do is sack the manager, although it is of course the chairman's fault that they are in this position, but he will be replaced by another numpty, probably McGhee!   However as I am not one to gloat when my enemy falls I will pass on such gloating, but I will feature the table as it stands tonight anyway!  This is fast becoming the most one sided derby game in the world!  Let us look at the figures.



Since the first derby, played at Edinburgh's East Meadows on the 25th of December 1875, which the Heart of Midlothian won by one goal to nil, there have been  618 derby matches. The statistics are as follows. 


Heart of Midlothian Victories : 276
Hibernian, the Wee Team :      200
Drawn games:                         141
Abandoned: (Hibs ran away in a huff) :  1


Goals scored:
Heart of Midlothian : 1064 Goals  
Wee Team:               892 


Interestingly Hearts have won more derbies on Hibs ground than Hibernian have.
Also interestingly, Heart of Midlothian have won more derbies on the Hearts ground than Hibs have.  Good innit?


I could go on, but I leave you with the table instead.

1	Rangers	5	9	13
2	Motherwell	6	4	13
3	Celtic	5	8	12
4	Hearts	6	3	8
5	Dunfermline	5	0	8
6	St Mirren	6	-1	8
7	Kilmarnock	5	2	6
8	Dundee Utd	6	-4	6
9	St Johnstone	5	-2	5
10	Inverness CT	6	-6	4
11	Aberdeen	6	-6	4
12	Hibernian	5	-7	3

The Future is bright, the future is maroooooooooooooooooooon!






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Nothing to say

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So here is a picture of Battersea Bridge.....


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The Waterfall

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Trundling out to exercise my knees I wandered down the path usually occupied early in the morning by folks walking their dogs. Being late afternoon the women were busy in the kitchens preparing their man's dinner which is what they were made for! This meant I could enjoy the bright sunshine, the warm air, and the raging waterfall I found there.  What a lovely spot, especially when the dog walkers were absent and the neds who leave their 'Carlsberg' cans on the waterfall have as yet not arrived. This once was a delightful wooded spot lying just under the hill on which the farmhouse stands.  In the 1850's the railway built the embankment that lies just behind the photographer but even this does not detract from the site itself, in fact in may enhance it.  However as the town has moved outwards the youth has followed on.  Kids of adolescent age use the slope of the embankment as a slide and their older brothers meet to share a can of beer to prove they are men at last. How many fall in while being macho I have failed to ascertain, although I would enjoy a photograph of such!


And look! A brick bridge!  How wonderful! I wonder had we got aerosol spray paint when young would we have scribbled our names on rail bridges?  I suspect we would but the only such vandalism I can recall came when I was in my late teens, and that referred to gang names.  There were certainly lots of such scrawls in Glasgow when we visited but in was only around 1970 they began to appear in Edinburgh. I fear we would have followed the crowd had it arrived earlier however.  I prefer the bridge with just brick rather than someones initials.   

In fact I am now convinced we would have vandalised with the rest.  This door is found at the back to door to the 'stair' in which we lived.  The initials dug into the door began with the 'Teddy Boy' neighbours (and my brother) in the fifties and have been continued since. I suspect this door has now been replaced with 'modern improvements' but you never know.  Graffiti has always been important to people.  Armies marching through the Cilician Gates near Tarsus (in Turkey) left their mark on the walls.  Greeks, Egyptian, Hittite and all put their mark, and those who could write left a statement of their intent as they passed. Sadly I understand the motorway construction of the eighties destroyed the ancient gates!   My dad once admitted that he and his mates had done the same to Stonehenge. Tsk!  The druids will not be pleased.

 
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The Power of Advertising

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A post by  a pretty American lass reminded me of a programme on telly a few months ago. It revealed the way to make something sell, even though we all obtain the same substance almost free daily. It concerned the rise of bottled water, in spite of the stuff coming into most folks homes by a tap! 

Since it was discovered that foul water brings disease such as Cholera in its wake the supply of clean water has become important in the UK and elsewhere. Today water flows (at a high price thanks to the stupidity of privatising peoples needs) freely into every house. Clean, safe water, doctored to preserve the purity at the pumping stations and keeping the nation clean, healthy and thirst free. Who can complain about this? No-one, it is just not possible to whine about something so important coming direct into the home. Of course natural resources differ. In Edinburgh the water is 'soft.' This gives a lovely 'feel' to the water, an improved 'taste,' and when thirsty nothing 'tastes' better than cool water. In some areas, such as the south, water is hard and leaves a 'limescale' deposit around the sinks and inside kettles and the like. While harmless it is an irritation and the water tastes somewhat 'dull' in comparison with 'soft' water.

This is where advertising men saw their chance. Knowing that the rich 'trendy' set are always on the look out for expensive 'one-upmanship' opportunities, those given the job of selling 'Perrier' water in the eighties went to work. By suggesting sparkling water that arose 'deep in the earth' was healthier than the stuff coming out of the tap, by including sexy women and of course an expensive price, the adverts touched something in the 'Yuppy' mentality of the time. Soon those bulbous green bottles were everywhere, and within moments dozens of others appeared in the shops. Today this is a multi million business.  From large enterprises to small a business is to be gained. One man found a disused well in the back garden of his new house and produces thousands of bottles, at high price, for five star hotels in Scotland! Straight forward 'water' in plastic bottles flew of the shelves at high prices as customers wished either to be seen with the right kind of water or fell for the idea that water filtered by a mountain was cleaner than that filtered by Fred Bloggs at the pumping station. Much later it was revealed that more bacteria is found in the plastic bottled water, of all kinds, and that tap water was healthier!  Facts of course do not end beliefs! The bottles still fill many shelves in the supermarkets, and price is no object to the daft ones who 'prefer it' because of 'health' or 'society' reasons.

I buy cheap sparkling water, and clearly not to impress the society around me!  This is because I looked at what is contained in the average soft drink, available at high price in the shops. Whether Pepsi, Coke or any of the dozens of other available they all contain at least eight spoonfuls of sugar and various other stuff, some of which I am not willing to trust. I decided to buy cheap carbonated water to provide for a 'fizzy' drink.  The stuff available in the shops costs from 40pence to over a pound if you are daft enough to pay for it. I pay 17 pence for the big Tesco bottle shown. Mix it with tap water and it is fine to drink, less harmful than canned drinks and with no additives bar the bubbles, and as I drink a lot of water these days it is better than the canned stuff.  When out and about during these hot summer days, yes there was one recently, buying a plastic bottle of water does make some sense. However paying £1:45 at a railway station appears to me to be just a bit dear myself!  OK if desperate but the word 'rip-off' goes through my mind here. People will not believe me when I tell them it is advertising, and the labels, which make them pay through the nose for water available from their taps. Advertising speaks to something within us, usually greed, 'keeping up with the Jones's' or a deep psychological need recognised by the advertising people. Such folks make better psychologists than psychologists! 

This is a (US) sample of the hype from the eighties, although all of my female readers will not be old enough to remember this sort of thing.

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Hmmmm, the French do things differently of course.....

                                   



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Awwwww

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Another journey into the centre of the world this morning, and a chance to wander through the park also.  The river, as seen last week, is not sufficient for some it appears, dad, and mum round the corner, have taken the kids to the small boating lake, aimed at kids, and moved in there. The feeding must be good here, as long as you can endure the folks crying "Awwwwww" everytime they spot the kids (the fluffy ones not the brats). I did first attempt to get a shot of mum and one fluffy wee one but as I got near she shoved the kid into the water and made off. Actually I thought she was a Mallard but I now begin to wonder if she was something else as both were darker than these seen here. Anyway dad was playing with his feathers and still keeping an eye on me as I approached camera in hand.  He did not appear concerned and I got the pics.  I ought to have been down lower but was fearful the knees would give way and send me into the pond among much cheering from charitable folks around, so I took care.  

   


Between the river and the pond I found these, tank traps from the second world war. I know thee is an old pillbox nearby but did not have time to go looking for this.  The ground here has many long humps, some going back to Roman days and some connected with river works, this are was clearly an attempt t hinder any German aggression in 1940.  The river leads on to the sea eventually and one reason the Romans took over Camulodunon was the fact boats could come this far upriver with supplies.  The town, on the hill to the left, was the capital of the Trinovantes tribe and some of the earthworks were part of their defences. Such things, once required for war, are now kids playthings!

Oh yes and a sample of track for the enthusiasts among you. Ah trains, how lovely they are!  Of course they are better off without mobile phones, and I would like to take this opportunity to apologise the the lass who fell into the 'loop line' as we changed trains. It was an accident honest, but it did bring a smile to those of us who crowded you while YELLING AT THE TOP OF YOUR VOICE on the train.  It brought  smile to our faces if not to yours.  I hope you found your phone, if not try looking on the back of that container train, one chap said he saw it perched safely there.  Have a nice day, cause we will - now!  




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Horrid Johnny

When I was a postman, my mate Henry John, an aged old man of one year more than I, informed me of the time he went to see his first football match.  He was taken to White Hart Lane, the Home of Tottenham Hotspur  football club. This was in 1956 (before you were born) to see Spurs playing a friendly match against Hibernian, a small unimportant side from Leith. Knowing I supported the Heart of Midlothian, 'Scotia's Darlings' he took every opportunity to mention a Hibernian victory (when?) and a corrupt referee causing the Heart of Midlothian to lose.  


On Thursday, as you will have noticed, the Heart of Midlothian played Spurs at Tynecastle Park in Edinburgh and contrived to lose by 5 gals to nil.  The ball used in such competitions differs from the one used in Scottish games in that it does not go where our players placed it, and appeared to have a mind of its own.  This disaster unfortunate occurrence was a sad event that came into my life on Thursday evening. I mourned through the whole of Friday and by Saturday morning I, along with all other 'Jambo's,' had recovered our strength and 'moved on' as they say.


The postman arrived, a happy cheery lad (he ought to be having an easy round!  It was twice the size when I did it mate!) and threw the post through the door (I wish he would open it first) with a cheery grunt. Naturally there was a bill for my neighbour, the only man I know who receives more of those than I do, and two for me!  One came from my sweetest niece, containing a programme from a concert she was involved in (Stravinsky piano piece) and was gratefully received.  The other was in a (used) Royal Mail envelope and contained this:-

      
It's a disgrace that he is allowed to use Royal Mail material for such activities.  I would complain to the management but I know that they would have given him the envelope!  Oooh I could spit!


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Friday Night is Music Night, well this Friday night is anyway.

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Is this the greatest music ever written?

                                


                                 

             


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