Edinburgh

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A Life on the Ocean Wave, sort off....

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During the years of London life I took a real fancy to living on one of these narrowboats that are found on Britain's canals.  While in times past these boats were the main trunkroads from the late 1700's until the railways arrived and more or less put most off them out of business today they form the living quarters of some who cannot afford house prices or wish for a different kind of existence.  Many of course are used as holiday lets and groups or families will travel at a reckless 4 miles an hour along the canals, stopping off at Marinas or perhaps making do with a quiet backwater.  With London towering all around me I thought the idea of sitting at the back of one of these boats, whatever the weather, drinking my coffee and enjoying the greenery around looked like a scene from paradise. OK, I might fall into one of the locks now and again, but you cannot get everything can you? It still appears quite attractive although I can see the sky these days and the desperate desire for grass, sky and the refreshment of body and spirit that creation gives has lessened somewhat because of where I now dwell.  One day, when rich, I might make one of these my escape to the country for a weekend, if I can afford the boat, the berth fees, the maintenance costs, and so on and on and on.  It might be cheaper than a house but finding a quiet berth, paying the costs, and then avoiding holiday makers escaping London would be a pain!  However I continue to dream....

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The Magic Roundabout

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Tuesday Rant

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The trip into the big town yesterday left two imprints on my bitter and twisted mind.  The first came when the chap who's time I waste for half an hour or so informed me that he was being moved to a different situation.  From next week he will be dealing with the 18-24 year olds as there is a big problem there. The problem is simple, they don't turn up!  Large numbers of unemployed youth are not bothering to arrive on time, attend the meetings, or do the courses on offer and the reason is they just 'don't want to!'  Now I recall  that I felt a similar attitude when in my teens however family pressure (work or stave) 'encouraged'  me to work badly in the places I was employed.  The girls throwing themselves at me also helped of course.  Oh yes they did!  Today however it is apparent that there is indeed a type who do not wish to do anything and apparently are getting away with it.  These young folk, always referred to as 'underclass' by the right wing press, do appear happy to live of the state and do nothing but take drugs, play with the girls and enjoy life.  Hmmm maybe they have something after all?  However this lot will find themselves off the programme in the next couple of weeks and possibly with a loss of dole money.  That will please the 'Daily Mail' reader. Strange how every person over 25, aged, disabled, redundant or just plain stupid (what you looking at me for?) always turns up for appointments, does what is asked and actually looks for employment of some sort, and not just for the money.  Is it just an age thing or is it society as it is offered today I wonder?  Age does change the responsible attitude however the kids usually have at least one parent and they appear not to care either.  I wonder if it is just life as she is lived, which brings me on to the 'Metro.'


The 'Metro' is a free paper given out at railways stations and found littering the seats at every stop.  No-one appears willing to actually take the thing home!  I picked one up yesterday and found it full of adverts and showbusiness news,  celebs activities and page after page of nothingness presented as important!  Is it just me being old or is it that the reality presented to us today is a sham, and nothing but?  It was on page 25 I discovered some news, floods in Pakistan.  Thousands homeless and many dead, yet a Rap 'artist' banned from 'The 'X' Factor' precedes this by several pages.  Age changes us but what filled the pages was nothing but emptiness to me.  The world is turning into plastic and things that really matter are fading fast behind a false image.  'The 'X' Factor' type shows, with their overhyped audience, the false voting system and the 'star' who invariably claims to be 'gay' a year later when the money runs out, offers a 'plastic' world.  Of course such shows do have a place, but it seems to me this is all on offer.  In the sixties life was full of revolution.  The false was to be stripped away and a new, better life was to be found.  It was of course a delusion, human nature never changes, but it was an effort to improve life as well as enjoy it.  Today is all about 'Self!'  Liberalism has trapped us in a  world of self satisfying, emotion led, wealth deserving life.  'If it feels good do it, ' has led us into 'If you want it have it,' and the consequences are not thought through.  Our forefathers were lucky.  In their day they had wars and depressions and a need to build a better life to ensure reality was in front of them.  Today we have had years of wealth, all our basic needs attended to, and now live rudderless and lost in a sea of sham.




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What...?

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So once again I trailed into the big city today for a short meeting.  I intended to scout around and find one or tow pictures of the more exotic houses that can be found there.  However the bug that has been hanging around put me of.  However on the way back to the station there is this very busy roundabout and standing in the middle of it we find this creation.  Why is it there?  What does it represent?  Who bought this I ask? 


This is Colchester, the first 'town' in England they claim.  Famous for being burnt to the ground by Boudica because the Roman governor not only attempted to take over her lands after her husband died, he had been a friend to the Romans, but he also had her daughters raped and a little bit of murder and pillage went on.  He appeared not to realise that some women get a bit upset in those circumstances, and he probably did realise this when thousands took over the unprotected city and put him to the sword.  Naturally the Romans then put her and all around who sided with her to the sword also and then developed this place to their own advantage.  In fact much of their layout remains in use today.  


But this is a medieval knight, not a Roman soldier or an ancient Briton!  This is of course still a garrison town, the parachute regiment are based here when not trotting around Afghanistan being shot at. However no Para wears armour these days, at least not that type. What does it mean?  I was so concerned about this that I went for the train and forgot all about it.


I am indeed more interested in why this lovely vehicle was dumped here.

   
I noticed this before when I changed trains and wondered if this had been stolen and now lies vandalised in what once upon a time was the turntable for the steam engines. Mind you that might even be there under several decades of rot!  I suspect that someone inhabits this old van as there are enough passing dossers who would make use of this.  When new it must have cost a bomb, and the mobile hotel would have provided many holidays for the rich owner.  It could of course have belonged to one of the rich sportsmen who transport themselves to events for several days at a time and live within such a vehicle.  Even in this state it is still in better nick than my little bike.....

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Sunday Evening

            

Friday Cogitation

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From the excellent River Clyde Photography site

A recent TV programme discussed the development of container transport and how this has revolutionised our world.  Until the late fifties and early sixties goods were transported in a very slow manner.  Hand to hand operation was required to load ships, with cranes used for larger items. Boxes were piled into nets which were hoisted aboard and stacked by hand in the holds. Slow, labour intensive, hard toil, expensive and costly in both breakage and theft.  I know about theft!  As a dumb fifteen year old office boy I filled out, in unreadable scrawl, the dockets for whisky sent to places as far apart as Australia, South Africa and the USA.  A thousand cases would be loaded, by hand, onto a 'British Road Services' lorry and would trundle down the A1 to London Docks where the majority of the load would, with difficulty the drivers would report, be unloaded and then packed onto the ship.  I say the 'majority' as it is amazing how many boxes would have a hole in the bottom when they arrived in New York!  London was one of the least appreciated docks the drivers told me, Southampton one of the best.

However at that time we began to use another lorry firm, name forgotten, to deliver the new 'Sealand' containers to the container depot somewhere in England.  At first there was one of these in London and I think Hull also had such facilities, however the strikes, very common in docks, led to the opening of Felixstowe as the main container depot for the UK. This revolutionised the transport of goods and aided development of the economy of many nations.  The success of transporting one thousand cases of whisky with no loss, no damage and therefor less cost soon became popular with all other goods. The strife in dockland, understandable as the conditions were hard, dirty and the management shocking, led to many strikes in the early sixties. By 1970 the docks had died and container transport was all!  A handful of men now load and unload ships in a few hours whereas before it could take days.  Specially designed container ships saw the end of the 'tramp steamer,' and the speed of movement aided the increase in produce transported. It did annoy sailors however as the three or more days spent in port now have become a few hours!   

Today vast amounts of goods of all description travel around the world making us more interdependent than ever. It also enables factories in China to manufacture socks at a price cheaper than those made at home and send them to the UK daily. There is at least one town, name unknown, which contains nothing but factories making socks for the world markets!  China has, because of containers, become the 'workshop of the (cheap) world.'  The point that comes to mind however is that this traffic, bringing TV's, socks, fashion, gardening equipment, cameras, foodstuffs and anything else we take for granted continues daily and we never see it happen!  It was possible in the past to watch goods unloaded at dockside and observe what arrived or departed, not any longer.  Lorries once trundled through the streets with goods lashed to the back open to public eye, not any more.  All these goods appear to arrive in the shops as if by magic and we take it for granted. 

Food arrives in brightly covered plastic packets.  Butchers shops have meat neatly arrayed on the counter however when I was a lad sides of beef and, half pigs would hang all around the shop, with sawdust on the floor to catch any blood!  We would often play with these dead beasts as we waited for mum to be chatted up by the butcher.  The only real health concern then was the butcher never took money.  He wrote the price on a note which was handed to the customer.  This was presented to a woman sitting in a small both at the end who took the cash and offered change.  Game birds hung for days in the shop window, their feathers standing out from the skinned meats all around.  Now they lie frozen in a deep white freezer, shrink wrapped in plastic. We knew as kids where our food came from, we could see it hanging there, this is not possible in supermarkets today.  They joke that kids do not know where their lunch comes from and maybe they are right. We live in a pre-packaged society, almost a false society.  Until around the middle of the19th century society in the west was predominantly agricultural. After that is was dominated by town and city.  Recently I did a short study of biblical agriculture, wheat, barley and other foodstuffs.  It struck me just how close to the land these people were.  The weather played a huge part in their lives and the seasons dominated the working day. When the daylight was available you worked, when it grew dark you went to bed. If the harvest was good you ate, if it was bad starvation and death arrived, just as it has in north eastern Africa this year.  Not that we care to watch this on TV, not when Libya is much easier to stomach, and anyway those Africans are always starving aren't they? 

We are not just too far from the land, we are too far from the manufacture of the goods around us. Food manufacturers fill our grub with many chemicals that 'enhance' the life of the product, the additives encourage us to eat more but this does not actually lead to healthier bodies. Much of our foodstuff now comes from abroad, often by aircraft usually by boat.  The world economy governs us more than our leaders, good and bad.  As the economy of the west struggles to recover it would take little to upset that of the east.  Living cocooned in our brightly lit, centrally heated, homes, minds numbed by television created by con artists, and lied to by a grasping media we are lulled into a false security, content with our lot and unaware of how close disaster is at hand.  It was ever thus.  We look no further than the end of our noses.  As long as we are OK few look into the future, preferring to leave that to others while we enjoy our soap operas and shiny things made in the far east. Is there a better way?  

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Thursday

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I was awoken early this morning by the council men clearing the rubbish strewn across the park by the adolescents frolicking yesterday evening.  One of them nudged me with that sharp stick he was carrying and insisted somewhat rudely that I should make my way from the bench on which I had reposed last night and "Geta'arhtofit!"  I gathered my possessions, wrapped them in my neckerchief and tied it to a stick.  I then fastened my army surplus apparel around me and went to look for my breakfast.


The sun was shining brightly, the sky blue, birds sang in the trees around and large black crows were feeding of  a dropped takeaway Pizza.  Well they were until I stepped in.  I continued on my way, head down searching for dropped coins, and sauntered along at a leisurely pace, I cannot do fast any more.  I smiled happily at one and all, cheerfully greeting the young lassies as they passed, occasionally receiving a less than cheerful reply. One young lass indeed stopped to chat while I had cornere been chatting to a young blonde, she appeared very interested in me, my bags, where I was off to and what I thought I was doing. Eventually she let me off with a caution but next time she will arrest me she said, speaking into her radio and encouraging me to move elsewhere.  


Having taken the hint, and not bothered to collect a copper or two (see what I did there?) I made my way through the town and entered the dole office yet again.  It is a bit disheartening when as you enter the staff are discussing the arrangements for the Christmas party and ask if I will be going!  I watched the usual faces, the small children happily playing in the corner, their mother discussing a query with her money and was cheered to see how clean and smart this little family looked, the mothers school uniform was in excellent shape I thought. I noted also that this government has successfully removed over 111,000 thousand civil servants and has plans for many more to go by the end of the year.  Loudly they claim the private sector has filled 40,000 in that time.  Hmmmm possibly too many who make up the statistics have been removed also as I can see a fault here. However I continued smiling at everyone, strolled around, cheerful and pleasant to one and all. You see whatever the situation, I am not one to complain.....


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Cramond

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What a rubbish day.  It started badly, got worse, then went wrong, and suddenly I found it was dark and nothing had been done that was supposed to be done - again! I'm falling apart here, and not slowly. So here is a picture of Cramond I took a couple of years ago.  I wish I was there now.... 




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Closed Door

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No time to post anything at the moment, and several posts are only half witted written so here is an aged church back door.  The one the vicar used to escape rebellious parishioners.


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Penguins

              

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Using old pics to fill a post picture

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I began this week with energy.  I had plans, ideas, things to do. One of which was to walk more, exercise and get fit.  Indeed I walked a lot on Monday, walked and exercised well (for me) on Tuesday, and my body and mind have been dead ever since!  Tuesday saw me writing things, reading, studying, and since then I have been working my way through 'Herodutus' and nothing else.  My head is dead.  The sad thing is I doubt anyone would notice.  I read all the proper blogs, when folks get around to actually writing something, (it's a bit of a pain to those of us without a life when those of you with one have the life and don't post so that we without a life can have a life through you and don't make me say that again!) and enjoy the torrent of words on show.  There are, I found, a billion American blogs giving details of their happy life. 'The Smith Family,' and 'The Robinson's at Home,' and 'The Watkins Way,' and so on, pages all about their joy, their kids (lots of fotos) and their God, and their support for the troops, and so on and on and on sickeningly!  This is my fault as a while back when pressing the 'Next Post' button I discovered page after page of porn from professional sites. I objected as if I wish porn I am well able to find it and can do without it shoved in my face, especially after reaching 60 it doesn't work so well now!  Some geek has flicked a switch and I find all the Yank families in the Mid West telling me how lovely life is and we support the Tea party!  I feel inclined to offer my thoughts and get banned from that range of blogs and put onto something with more life!  Isn't life strange sometimes?   


Anyway this lovely engine, with its misery of a driver, was the machine that pulled me into Mallaig many moons ago.  The steam train runs several times a day from Fort William to the fishing port, and you can catch the ferry to sky if you so wish, although I think this is only for pedestrians these days. A small fishing village, with I suspect a lot less boats today than when I visited some years ago.  Smoke emanating from chimneys was a strange sight, and smell, to discover, especially as I lived in the centre of London at the time.  The open space, the sky, the sea, the aroma, all made for a wonderful experience.  Watching sheep, with horns, nibbling grass by the roadside was also enjoyable, although they were not very friendly, those Gaels are a rough lot!  I have pictures of a sloping sea with some of the Isles in the distance, and one or two of the colourful boats and possibly one of the seal who kept sticking his head up in the hope of a free fish being slung at him.  Funnily enough whenever I have been up that way all the postcards show glowering clouds, and cartoon ones feature sheep cowering from rain, in telephone boxes, yet the sun always shone when I was around.  Does this mean it really does shine out of my eyes?


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Experimental Night Shot

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I am amazed at how dark it is by 7:30 these days, it's almost like Autumn!  However as I was strolling around looking in folks win taking my constitutional I realised I may get a shot of some bright lights.  Naturally I could not remember, or take the time, to work out how to take night shots on this camera so I just plugged away and pressed the button anyway.  Not bad but too dark for a night shot (what?).  Now, where are those instructions....?

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Park Crime

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Following on from the prison post yesterday (I almost said 'Criminal post,' but you may not have understood which one) I was confronted with police action today.  While slumbering slaving over the PC this afternoon (and by PC I mean computer not police constable) a car door slammed outside my window. Being of a nosey concerned for the good of all I looked out to check all was well. Lo and behold three coppers were running across into the park.  As I followed their progress, just in case I was required to give aid, I realised there was a huge crowd of brats, police and indeed an ambulance crew involved at the skatepark.  What with the trees and being half dressed not wearing my outer attire while at the PC I could not go down and shove my nose in  observe.


In spite of the fact that you never see one when you want one there appeared to b a dozen police wandering around today. Two sergeants, possibly a lady (?) inspector and lots of others talking to the kids there, chasing them away, and marking out an area with tape. I hoped thought at first that a knife murder may have been committed, but it may just have been some sort of accident at the skatepark. Within an hour or two it had all been cleared away, the ambulance left, the police left, and when the rain came on happily all the kids went home.  The police put a lot on community relations (community? A word constantly used but totally meaningless!) but the answer I got from that big sergeant when I asked for the details was not good relations in  my view.  Tsk! You would think that communicating with the public was important to the police, but clearly not with him!  He refused my suggestion that the 'Armed Response Group' ought to patrol the park on Saturday night, in the dark so not seen, and eradicate the noise nuisance from those using it at that time.  He refused that also!  Tsk!


I wonder, if a crime was committed, would they use the old lock up, just once?


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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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