Wimmen on Bikes!

Today the second stage of the 'Women's Tour' set of from our wee town.  Racing against the wind but in warm sunshine the girls would run about Essex, up the hill at Halstead I can hardly walk up and make their way to Clacton on Sea, and good luck to them there.  I managed to get out in time to watch them hurtle down the hill preceded by a vast number of Police Motor Cycles and support vehicles, all 'Skoda' by the way. 

The difficulty with such events as this is that you stand in one place and the bikes rush past.  This is great when they do a roundabout route but in these races they flash past and are gone.  This happened here.  I took this pic when attempting to focus and then just pressed the button.  Quite tolerable I think, but who wishes to cycle around a hundred miles in a race?

When the race began these kids from some organisation or other precede the riders.  Supported by police escort they wended their way ahead down the main road and once they got half way down the hill they parked up.

Being female becoming screaming banshees was something they managed with little difficulty. They were joined by a school filling the area opposite in making much noise as the girls cycled past.

What a great incentive this is for the kids.  A day out of school, learning cycling, one of the great free enjoyments (once you by a bike), a super way to get around, safer for girls of all ages making their way home at night rather than walking on pavements, and sheer fun as well as useful.  I should point out at this point one of the young lassies working on a project at the museum came off her bike and fractured her elbow!  We still make her work, occupational therapy!

Last year the 'Tour de France' on it's foreign week came within two miles of here.  Too far for me to cycle especially when you see more on TV.  Naturally when they riders passed up the road the TV went to an advert break!  I am not sure what channel this lot were on as I was too busy wandering around to look for them.  Then I had to visit the museum for orders.

Motorbikes are made for covering the 'Tour,'  these powerful beasts wend their way between the array of support cars in front and behind, each with a specific purpose.   It was difficult to count them as about twenty raced past at one go, mostly police blocking roads as the race passed by.

Not all had to race around, some just blocked roads and 'controlled' quietly.   For motorcycle police such events must be a great part of their duties, often bringing close contact with the public and this could be enjoyable, usually.

 

Back at the aftermath of the start the crowds thinned and the police there were dealing face to face with the public also.  As I passed several were in discussion re the serious crimes in the town, serious enough to them 'anti-social behaviour from neds' being heard as I passed as well as late night weekend drunkenness.  Now as this area has a very low crime rate it is clear the fear of crime is worse than the crime.  Wary of late night town centre when pubs close is important but not if you are indoors watching telly Missus.  Young neds are indeed a pest but few complaining actually get bothered by them.  It happens and it is not nice, but the fear makes it worse than it is. 

I have never seen so many police in the town.  Events bring thieves with them so it makes sense, crowd control also is required, however I suspect there was little to bother the representatives of the law.  This chap may have filled in the time but does not appear to have caused them much worry.  This in many peoples mind is what policing ought to be about, meeting the public, showing a presence, and deterring as well as catching thieves.  However 'austerity,' the Conservative Parties watchword of the day meant that cuts had to be made therefore more police are in cars and less than ever wandering town centres.  Something wrong somewhere.

This was a good day for the town and I suspect more such events will now be seen passing through here.  It would be beneficial if the next one went straight past my window instead of making me get up out of the house! 

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Stress and Flowers

For two days I have been removing pictures, old programmes and stuff and the brute is still sticking.  Now I am not the complaining type but this would be a perfect opportunity to grumble.
Take Real Player.  I removed this because it introduced 'Real Player Cloud' and I did not wish to possess this.  The 'Cloud' part remains and is impossible to find and remove.  'Wild Tangent Games' are similar still!  Much more space has been found on the hard disc but still I wish to lose these brutes.
I downloaded fotos onto discs.  I had some on two or three different discs, so I deleted/swapped/ amended/changed and so on until I have almost sorted out the pictures but there are still more to go!  I was at this so long yesterday eventually the laptop could take no more and refused to play!  Like me it was too tired to continue.

  
With the sun failing to warm the place at least it lit up the flowers in the organic garden outside.   Quite why the heat fails when the light shines I do not understand, however we should be used to this by now.  
Nothing else has happened, if it did I missed it as I was waiting on a new disc to format!  Through the laptop problems I could hardly catch any of the last football of the season.  Now Mike S. informs me the Heart of Midlothian return to training on Friday!  A close season of five days only!!!  When I was a lad football ended after the Scottish Cup Final followed a week later with the Scotland v England game.  That left the remains of May, all of June, most of July before the new season which started in August or the last week in July.  How I missed the game during that period, it appeared to go on for ever.  Now it almost does not exist!  Those who run the game require to sort things out say!   There is now a cry for summer football - WE ALREADY HAVE IT!  


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Cleaning Laptop

All day I have been at this!  All day, from sunrise, behind the clouds, to dusk, which will be behind the same clouds, I have been attempting to dump stuff from the laptop.  I was 3:38 GB from capacity and now, after removing files, pictures, and anything that moves I have only moved to 7:85GB from capacity!  I still cannot get into the big ones I wish to move, Windows games on Win 7 are non removable, thanks ya greedy ape, and I still cannot get rid off others.  Bah!
I have removed pictures onto discs and each one required formatting, this took seven minutes each time, or was it more?  Choosing which to keep and which to dump takes hours, making, and burning, chicken also takes time, and through all this I have been unable to watch the football properly.  Not that I am one to complain but this really is the last now, in the middle of June!
I canny find anything now, the desk is covered in discs.....

I need to sleep...

Blackbirds & Football

The desk is still untidy, the papers still lie waiting sorting, books remain gathering dust as does everything else and all because of 'WildTangent Games!'  No matter what I tried I cannot get rid of the files deep inside.  Other things like 'Real Cloud' remains also stubbornly refusing to vamoose.  I have gone in here and there, used this and that yet so much claims to be there still.  The hard drive is almost full so something has to come out.  I lost meagre amounts of files, much sweat and my temper, but so much remains.  There was nothing for it but to have lunch and go back to bed.

This scruffy erk was sitting feeling sorry for himself as the Summer rain (note that, Summer rain) was falling.  The Starlings attempt to eat the Suet pellets from the feeder but I shoo them away as they stop the wee birds from feeding.  This young chap may or may not have been feeding but he certainly does not like the weather.  Starlings like to flock together and in the past we had vast numbers of them sitting atop the radio mast behind the police station and flying around in a large group having a ball.  Still a few hundred but numbers have dropped in recent years, maybe it's me!  Charles Dickens wrote of such flocks gathering in the far off suburbs of London, though they were far from suburbs then, at places like Kingston on Thames and gathering together to meet in London's centre.  Thousands would arrive, and still do, and er, do do, all over the place returning home in the morning. Not quite like it was in the 19th century but many still around.

Also unhappy, but probably something to do with her man who has not been feeding the kids or doing his work in the house, is this lass who certainly did not like the rain in her face.  Not a bad picture considering I took it through a window. 

BBC

At last, at long last the final game of the season is actually over.  No more football until, well July I suspect.  I need the rest, I am tired watching football, tired being stressed by it, tired and aching waiting for it to start and tired and aching waiting for it too finish.  Now at Last I have time to get the desk tidied up and...hold on, I think there may be a game tomorrow....

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Desk Tidy

I might tidy my desk tomorrow.
This is a thing I have been considering for some time now.  The desk top, the files in the desk, the files under the desk all require sorting, binning or investigating.  It may mean using that polish on the desk and choking myself to death with it.  There again I might just tidy up.
The 'To Do' list has got so long I just threw it away and started again.  Most of the things are coming round for their annual check up anyway.
There again I might just lie in bed all day.

I have just run a search using 'Treesize free' and discovered several programmes supposedly deleted some time back still have either vast amounts or some residue remaining on the hard disc!  How annoying is that?  Now I have to discover a way to get rid off them.  How come I did not realise this ages ago I don't know, maybe I have not used 'treesize' for longer than I realised, anyway something has got to happen soon.  The machine is running very slowly and I have run all the usual stuff to delete anything that is slowing it down but this made little difference, once I remove these quite big beasts that will help.
There again I may just lie in bed....
   

Bus, Jacket, St John's Moulsham, Cricket

In an attempt to avoid the builders/new neighbour/responsibility/laptop/work I took off suddenly for Colchester.  As I got to the bus station the bus drove out exactly on time therefore fooling me completely!  Instead I waited for the six minutes past Chelmsford bus which left a mere five minutes late.  This change of plans somewhat threw my plans out although I was, and remain, unsure what those plans actually were.   So in a day of hot sunshine I walked around the crowded centre of one of the most boring of cities known to man.  I sauntered through the charity shops containing jackets that suit me in every respect bar size!  Three perfect jackets were tried on and none were made correctly.  Tsk!  
The time on that clock was correct in 1896 but I would not trust it at the moment.

 
Tiring very quickly of the shops that do not stock what I want I found a place of refuge at the very far end of the street, a 'Chapel of Ease.'  Here I found rest from the sun and shops and found the company of two friendly church persons.  They were kind enough to allow me to wander around , take pictures and rest my feet for a while and cogitate.  Having done so we chatted for a short while and I found them very welcoming, a joy in any city.

  
The church has been undergoing some modernisation and the work has been going on for some time.  It is fair to say the church has been altering the building since first erected in 1837.  There were several reasons to build, one being the growing development of this area and a second arose when the railway from Liverpool Street was making its way towards Colchester.  The navvies building the line with pick and shovel, in between belting one another with forementioned items, requiring spiritual succour had until then some four or five miles to walk into town.  They usually managed it as far as the pubs were concerned but a 'Chapel of Ease' was raised ensuring they, and any locals, did not have to walk the distance.  How much concern there really was for the navvies might be a moot point, few such men attending church and the many Irish were predominately Roman Catholic anyway, but it certainly suited the incomers to growing Moulsham to have their own church.  The Bishop of London was pleased to open the building giving thanks for the life of King William IV, who was on his last legs while little Victoria was sitting in Kensington Palace awaiting his end, tearfully I'm sure, and the church began to serve its people.

Much altered since the beginning, side chapels and towers followed in the years to come after the navvies moved on and the well established moved in.  I was surprised to see pews still in use.  Most churches today remove them and have chairs in a semi circular style, much better for the Sunday meetings and allows the space to be used at other times also.  These however were distinctively painted and well kept.  Cogitating here in the near silence was good for the heart as well as the feet. I am glad they now have the doors open and folk in attendance, it gives the church a 'lived in' look and connects with the people of the area better.

I wondered about the people who passed this was over those 178 years.  There may indeed have been some navvies, their wives and children, then the important people of the area, who paid towards its erecting, and other locals such as their workers and servants would  certainly pass through.  Once Victoria had married Albert the nation followed her 'happy family' approach to life this did not stop the establishment of class division, snobbery and personal control over churches.  By the end of the Great War church attendance fell, false religion, nominalism, was swept away for the most part and greater wealth or then the depression must have had its effects here.  What happened to those people I wonder?  Certainly they felt the effect of the second war, this town was bombed often.  The Victorian railway had brought new people and as the city developed so did wealth and prosperity for (almost) all.  Late Victorian Britain was a time of improving prosperity, education had become compulsory,  the railways had changed the face of the nation and imperialists had developed an empire and the arrogance that goes with it, not that I will mention this.

An example of improving oneself lies here, Samuel Wackrill a one time draper who by the time he was 64 had moved from living in the High Street, possibly 'above the shop' to New London Road, a move which implied no lack of cash at hand.  he gave his occupation as a 'Landlord of houses,' and I wonder if he was a good one?  Within ten years he was a mere 'retired draper' but living in Chandos House' a fancy name for his dwelling.  His New London Road house were not for the likes of me I can tell you, unless I was a servant.  Samuel left us in 1889 a few years after his wife.  Clearly he was a 'pillar of the church' and has a burial spot positioned where passersby can remember him as they enter each Sunday.  He was unable to take over £3000 of his pounds with him when he left however, not a bad sum when you and I would be earning between 5 shillings (20 to the pound) and £2 if highly skilled a week. 

I wonder about those who are buried with much pomp and remembered with huge tombstones like this one.  Could it be he tries yet to stay alive?  Could it be simple oneupmanship in an effort to prove your importance?  Either way it fails for this chap, his name is non existent now and he is forgotten.  

The accoutrements of an Anglican church often confuse me but while some are easier to comprehend I find the whole setting most attractive.  Many churches here go back far further than St John's but I wonder if the welcome there is as pleasant as the welcome at this church?  The church is the people not the building and while I would find them a little too 'churchy' on a Sunday I would certainly pop in for coffee if passing again.  It is the people, knowledgeable people, who make the place and I found two of them here. 

 
Of course you didn't think I would ignore the war memorial did you?  Such a shame the names are now fading.  However the memorial was a good one for the time and in a prominent place for all to see.  

 

 My creaking knees stumbled to a halt when we noticed this creation falling apart in this somewhat run down area.  Further inspection shows it to be an unidentified object in the grounds of what is now the 'Chelmsford Club' a place for businessmen to do business and get drunk together.  Next to it lies the gatehouse, once the entrance designed to keep the plebs out.  As I wondered lost among recent built offices I considered these Victorian buildings more worthy of praise than the quite well built new ones.  These form part of a big house created by James Fenton an architect come engineer who cleaned up the local water supply thereby improving health for the townspeople, he also designed many of the better buildings in the town.  Together with friends he built New London Road later populated by the wealthy from St John's and removed himself to Croydon to improve their health also.  His wealth is seen in the size of the stable block alone! 

Heading back to the bus I tried to get a picture of the entrance to the cricket ground.  This is the home of the Essex County Cricket side.  According to the confusing mess that is their website this county lies at the bottom of the second division, which tells you something.  There however is in my view far too much 'pap' and not enough sensible information, easily consumed, on these pages.  I did however work out that whatever type of cricket they play (what is 'T20 Blast!' when it's at home I ask?) it is clear Essex are not very good at it.  However I could not find my way through the new buildings and it transpires I was far from where I should be so I went home.  The glimpse of the floodlights, probably not working like the players, is your lot cricket fans.  Cricket does not appeal to me much but today the ghastly commercialism really does put me off, it is very different from a mere thirty years ago and this is not an improvement

 
So, no jacket, rubbish shops, too many people, only the church really worth taking pictures off, a nice house, once, and a cricket ground with a failing team.  Nothing could be worse unless the 12:55 bus does not arrive until 13:10 and leave me asking if it is the late running bus or the early 13:15 one?  Being 'First Bus' you do not get to know.  I suspect however that as each old dear (and there were lots of them) got on the bus they asked "Why are you late?" and jumped up and down.  The driver
 would probably answer "Because I was explaining to old women why I was late dear!"  We got home several minutes before we should have done had he come on time, work that one out!

Laughs

 

 

 

 

 

Carnival Day

The eager crowds were out, as was the sun, for the carnival parade.  One day in the year when the entire town meets together.  Most have the responsibility of either their kids beside them or spotting a known child on one of the floats and ensuring you get some money into the buckets and nets they hold out as they pass.  The museum wall made an excellent viewing platform and allowed younger kids a safe place to avoid boredom, at least the one that ran past me fifty times was happy enough avoiding boredom! Gran, forced to chase him, was avoiding boredom well also.

The Saturday staff ignored the few visitors who made it through the crowds and soaked up the sun while being annoyed they had run out of suitable leaflets to force on to  present to the punters.  We had some visit before the parade but most afterwards follow it to the parades end where the fairground has been set up, the children enjoying the many rides, the men ruing the closure of the local hostelry!  That has become a 'Tesco Express.'

 
Naturally, as you do in Essex four hundred miles from Scotland's capital city of Edinburgh, the pipes always lead the parade!  'A Scottish Soldier'  was aired as they passed and I considered them the most musical of all the offerings presented to us today.  I suspect these lead many of the local carnivals and most people probably follow all the carnivals around as each small town and villages has one and this keeps the kids happy during the better summer days.  I suspect most of those participating in their floats show up in each march also!

I saw more of these today than I usually see around town these days, no not our man Stuart drinking his lunch, I mean policemen!  I say that and the police station is behind us and their cars turn the corner all the time, usually going in, not out.  Austerity leads to less noticeable policing as staff are cut, although 'Diversity officers' still get £32,000 a year in comparison to a new Bobby's £17,000, why?  On occasions they will blow the siren near my back window just for spite I'm sure.  Today there were lots of them, some even wearing these strange helmets and rumour has it that a blue lamp is contained within but I have never liked to ask.  He didn't recognise me anyway.

This man was having a ball with his flag!  Whatever the reason for the parade the flag was an instrument to be put to use and he was making hay when I noticed him.  For such is the day made and I assume the flag is now above, and possibly in, his bed!

I don't normally go in for candid pictures especially of children but all around they were having a ball watching on expectantly waiting for the next float.  Maybe I am missing the now grown up kids up north or maybe it is just a granddad phase but I enjoy watching them enjoy these days.  Someone of course ought to have ensured these were given info re the museum programme but no leaflets were ready, not that I am one to grumble as you know but here were three £5's for one special event standing here awaiting information. 

This lass on the right was pointing at the museum and telling her uncomprehending friend something about the place, so I snapped her.  I suspect her school or her mum has brought her in and she has remembered well.  Hopefully she will return and it is a shame the girls behind me did not notice this.

This is one of two that appeared to me to be about that Alice woman.  Someone we know wrote a book about her.  Standing at the rear gossiping is Alice herself, ignoring her fans.

I never knew this lot existed and I suppose that is one reason they join in the parade, a good free advertisement.  I preferred this lot to the numerous stick twirlers of varying ability who passed by.  Exercise helps you lose weight they told me, it was my considered opinion that some majorettes have not discovered this yet!  These lads however looked fit enough and this appeared to be a well organised youth group.  As a teenager this would be an attractive option - apart from the bruises and broken bones of course.

 

Then the aging 'Mods' arrived.  Usually they sit at the 'greasy spoon cafe' on a Sunday morning.  No doubt regaling one another of daring do against 'rockers' on their 'BSA's,' 'Triumphs' and 'Norton's' on Southend beach back in the sixties.  The scooter I think is a good way to get around town.  Until recently Stirling Moss, once Britain's greatest racing driver, used one as it was easier in London than anything else.  Only age made him give this up.

 Rent a Princess?

A singing group from afar, six miles away, appear to be putting on a show but I have no idea what it might be.  The cannon firing smoke was good however.

Throughout the country this sort of event will be occurring now.  Not the most earth shattering of events but certainly full of fun for the young ones.  They enjoy parading, mostly sitting waving from a forty ton truck, something mum probably has heart stopping worry over, while dressed up appropriately as a character from the theme.  Something I once disdained as of no interest I now find enjoyable, possibly because of the reaction to certain of the personnel involved as we watched this go by. 
Back to boring old European Champions League final now..... 

Kidnapped by Women

Late yesterday afternoon I was kidnapped much against my better judgement and driven at great speed north.  My intention had been to loiter in my bed wasting my life away doing important things such as surfing the net for well written blogs or football played in far distant lands but here I was in a large saloon vehicle with a driver who may or may not possess a licence.  As I was bundled into the car I dropped a note out the scrap of paper out of the window with:

 "Help! I am being kidnapped!" 

  

scrawled in cheap museum pencil.

This was pickled up by a passing police officer who ran ahead and stopped the car.  'Freedom' thought I, but he just gave me a £60 ticket for dropping litter and we sped off down the wrong route avoiding a fat female bus driver who managed to take a corner too fast possibly because she had her eyes shut.

At least this car full of threatening women took me out into the countryside.  The summer sun shone high above the fields filled with green crops dotted with yellow flowerings heading towards their fulfillment.  Occasional newly sheared sheep and contented cows were passed while the lassies gave up their threats to point out the changing architecture the further north we progressed.  The basic design was similar to those in our area but somehow different.  The thatch was more pointed, extra windows, roof shapes more 'Gothic' that Flemish.  Not that they noticed much of this as they spent too much time talking of the sun filled foreign climes they would be visiting while I ruminated on my day out to Little Tey, a hamlet just down the road.  I only got there by accident after getting off the bus at the wrong stop!

We reached our destination, tyres screaming as we tore through the streets the driver not aware of the signs with large 30 or 40 numbers at the side of the road indicated the maximum and not minimum speeds to use.  The difficulty of interpreting those blue signs with white arrows also caused some problems when ignored but with both hands over my eyes I can say little more as to whether they were ignored or obeyed there.  I did however hear some scraping noise and a scratch or two on the vehicle told its own story. 

We came to a halt in Bury St Edmunds a town named after St Edmund who lay worshipped in the Abbey here some years past.  Who was Edmund?  Little is known but myths grow easily, just look at the propaganda in the media!  It is possible he was killed by the Danes while leading opposition to their incursions in the year 869.  Tales tell of him being killed by arrows because he was a Christian, his head removed and thrown away and a wolf crying out revealing where it landed, and so on.  It appears to me these are later additions.  By the late 900's a cult had grown and King Canute began to build an abbey here over his shrine and the cult and town grew until Henry VIII came along and dissolved the monasteries in his loving manner. 

The old abbey lies in ruins with a new somewhat disappointing one standing a short distance nearby.  The picture is off the gatehouse to the old Abbey and this is grander than many buildings and this leads to the ruins which have now become a rather enjoyable green space in this small town.  

Many pilgrims in days of yore passed through our town on their long trek to this place to pray for healing, forgiveness or wealth from the dead man.  The abbot, like most in those days, was more concerned to increase the size of his steeple, so that it was higher than that of Ely some distance away, rather than deal with the troubles generated by the growing middle class of the town or attempt to communicate the gospel to them, such is ecclesiastical power!  The Reformation could not have come soon enough! 

We however were not allowed to go look see as I wished, instead I was dragged by these harridans into the large 'Athenaeum' where an award ceremony for volunteer museum folks was being held.  This building was erected in the early 1700's as Assembly rooms capable of holding large numbers for any meeting.  It became the Athenaeum in the 1850's and retains much of the aged designs of the time.  Not quite to my taste bu suitable for large gathers still and now of course a wedding venue for the rich, and this area of Suffolk has many such!     My opinion of our get together was that this was needless a waste of time being ignored I was frogmarched therein while they headed, somewhat eagerly for the free champagne.  Such events make me wish to hide in a cupboard as I think being in the background better than being seen, especially by large groups in this vast auditorium.  This is not my world, my world is hiding in my cave and yelling at the world through a keyboard.

There were several distinct awards on offer, there being a 'Highly commended' and a top prize of an Award to the winner.  Eventually the crowds gathered and the girls scrutinised the people as they entered comparing the women to themselves and the men to their wishes.  I was unable to look past our own attractive lassies, they had blindfolded me.  

I was amazed at the wide variety of peoples involved in voluntary activities throughout the region.  Museum of all kinds in every place were represented, each struggling for cash and run for the most part by a few paid employees and many volunteers.  From researching historical events, repairing broken items, entertaining adults or children and unblocking 'U-bends' the variety of skills on offer amazed.  The hours some people put in to their museum never failed to surprise me.  Age, class, background all made no difference, all that counted was an interest in the museum, the purpose thereof and a desire to help.

  

Only one museum was capable of winning two awards, one highly commended and one Award itself.  This I am proud to say was our museum where Karen and Lynn received the 'Highly commended' award for 'Front of House volunteer.' This was rightly so!  They keep the shop in good condition, amending displays, greeting visitors and putting right the actions of the Tuesday morning staff.  Such a well deserved mention for them both.  It was clear to us then that no museum would win two awards when would you believe our lass Vanessa won the 'Bringing Innovation Award' outright!  Quite right too.  Behind the scenes she has improved much including the monthly newsletter and improved the museums image to the online visitor.  I however failed in my attempt to win my category 'The Miserable Grumpy Git' award as there were far too many in the competition.  It must be stated here that all these were names suggested by female members of the staff.  No male suggested any individual for this section!

We drove home through the quieter roads as the sun began to lower itself over the greenery.  High above a few trails and occasional very high white cloud set off the deep blue colour of the sky, not that we could see it from the tyre smoke as we swung from side to side as the driver 'got used to a new car.'  My keen suggestion that taking her foot off the gas pedal and looking at the dials in front of her might have helped was not heeded.  The lassies, grasping their awards and preening themselves, did not notice our plight, they contented themselves by showing their awards to the citizens in the cars we overtook, sometimes legally.  It was only as we missed the taxi at the crossroads in Sudbury that I realised the driver was indicating an interesting house on the right with one hand and a similar building on her left with the other hand at the same time that I understood the reason for the driving skill.  That same skill helped lose the car with the flashing blue lights that followed us for a little while.  

In town I jumped out at the roundabouts wishing I had waited until she stopped and wandered slowly up the road looking at the bright late evening sky glad once more to be alive.  I took deep breaths of the fresh air and delighted myself with the summers evening.

Maybe it's not so bad getting out now and again after all.

  

    

Water

 

Earlier today I was feeling sorry for myself as I did not have one of those, a shot at that and lots f those over there that they have, when I came to myself and considered those who have less than I and are often happier than me.  Folks in some African townships live in mud huts or tin shacks that I would consider somewhat less reliable at keeping out the rain than my landlord's roof.  Others have to work 16 hours a day for little to make the constantly shrinking T-shirts that I buy, others toil in fields for the veg that I allow to rot because it is too much like work to cut it and use it.  

One blatant suffering is that of water!

Some years ago a programme on TV gave the impression the next war would be caused by water, or the difficulty in sharing it.  The vast amount of water that covers the earth is undrinkable and our limted technology will not allow us to make it drinkable, or at least will not pay to do so!  Surely it must be possible to ensure each one of us can access clean drinking water wherever we are?  It surely is but money, politics, selfishness and greed are probably the most likely causes in hindering delivery of clean water.  

Of course some people try to supply the need.  All across the globe governments can be found making decent attempts to supply such although too many do not and charities work tirelessly to provide in many places.  This does not always work successfully however.  Some years ago Oxfam, I think it was, spent vast sums drilling wells in Bangladesh and provided clean, safe water for the peoples.  Soon afterwards it was discovered that ALL the water was contaminated with arsenic!  This was because of a natural fault in  the area and now those using the water have to add tablets of some unknown to me substance to counter the effects.  Good try though.

Considering this I remembered a picture I took of a village pump some time back.  This stands in Little Dunmow a few miles from here, a small probably expensive hamlet that once housed a huge church building, now considerably reduced.  This Victorian looking pump was probably the main source of water for all the village for many centuries.  It is possible farmers had their own well, for themselves and their animals, and maybe the pub brewed it's own beer from water found in a well, that seems likely to me.  But I have not bothered to research as I was too busy contemplating my navel.

If I remember right the pump has since been done up and now is a different colour, it is some years since I took this picture, and it is clear the village has made it a centre piece and rightly so!  The town had a pump well into the 19th century and a friend buying an old house noticed on original deeds from when the house was built that the owner had the right to use the pump two doors down!  Sadly this has now gone.  

As I sit in the bath - well on Sundays anyway - I contemplate the cost of every inch of water draining away (the draining water is charged at about 90% of the water costs, the crooks!) and consider myself lucky to have a bath, lucky to have water on tap and the money to pay for this instead of lugging bucketfulls (a woman's job) back to the house.  Somewhere in Africa a woman is walking several miles to collect water each day, there is no guarantee it is clean either.  How privileged we are to have so much.

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Like a Bird

Like a bird I flew through this day, until that is I fell asleep when I got home.  The wind howled as I made my way to the museum and it increased in strength as the day reached noon.  Thankfully the rain stayed up north where it belongs.  
Our first visitor got talking about the birds he feeds in his garden, he has many feeding places for them and one or two nests where he has created space for them.  He noted how few small birds were seen today.  Tonight I notice only Starlings and Sparrows have so far been at the feeder.  This is worrying as I was told the wind last night was terrible.  I, it must be said, slept through this terrible wind.  However it may be the wee birds have been flung from their nests and lost to us.  Possibly they have been flung far away and might return, the first thought however is that they may be lost.  Few Blackbirds sing tonight, that is a worry.   Ah, out in the trees over there a bird sings happily, some sort of Finch perhaps, maybe all is not lost.

The day was much better than yesterday, my rant file was not working, I smiled at people and spoke nicely to them and all was well, even though few staff were in.  However my colleague and I took control of the situation and we worked as a team - he did everything!  We now stock all sorts of things suitable for the few tourists and passersby that arrive including these jams and chutneys.  They have sold well, I noticed one had gone today!  The weather kept many away but a few toddled in and we had a chat about all sorts of things yet not one bought even a postcard!  Meanies!

Now I am not one to criticise learner drivers but really only a woman could miss a tank coming down the road as she comes out of a side road!  Tsk!  The 'Daily Telegraph' records the name of the road as 'Tank Ring Road!'  Did I mention she was female...?

Glancing through the papers just now I wonder about the number of attention seekers on show.  The ones keen to tell us they are gay or transgender, the singers/actors who just happen to have photographers with them when they divorce/marry/fall over/wear little, or as happens so often in the local press those who have to show us their accident/sickness/hardship.  Why I ask do people run to the media in these situations?
I can understand when you have been badly treated by some business and wish to embarrass them, I can understand the desperation of 'celebrities' to further their failing careers but why must we see your failing love life in the papers?  Why must we see your sex problems day after day?  Even worse why run to the local paper to tell us you have a disease, hundreds have such problems why are you in the paper?
Maybe it is that I would not wish anyone to know if I had been run over/took sick or become pregnant, especially the last one.   I would not see any reason for publicity, indeed I prefer to keep out of the way from that sort of thing.  I was very reluctant to be photographed for the museum when something was being put in the press, that is what the women are for I say, not me.  So I find it strange that Mrs Jones has caught a disease and we all get to know about it.  Those who need to will already know, those who don't need to don't care!  I know sick people here I have no requirement to be told of others.  I have no need for peoples private lives, nor their sex changes, nor their self seeking adverts.  If you have a broken life get it fixed and sort yourself out, don't fill the media with it!  Do what the rest of us do in these situations, keep it to ourselves!  I don't want to know.

I scribble this as it is clear that is the sort of thing people increasingly wish to know.  This is 'bread & circuses' for the masses.  Living their lives through the mess that others are in.  These folks need aid, and such aid will not be fund by rushing to the nearest newspaper office I can tell you!
  

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