Rainy Tuesday

The rain teemed down from early this morning until late this afternoon.  This meant that nobody was going to venture outside unless they really had to and only one visitor braved the rain and two others attended an arranged meeting with one of our girls.  The crowds did not appear and the nearby cafe closed before noon as not one person was making their way inside, even the taxi drivers were unwilling to cross the road for coffee!  They have never closed that early before, good job I wasn't hungry.

So quiet was it that while my back was turned my assistant ran off home leaving all the work to me.
The term 'work' regarding today's situation is of course misleading.
After she left I went into the office because I was beginning to feel lonely!  
A quieter day would be hard to imagine.

The weather system that passed over brought high force winds.  This must have pleased many as this meant those people plodding around the streets begging for votes could not make their way through the streets because of the rain.  It is unlikely the public would take pity on them!

However Theresa was still 'meeting the public' although as one man pointed out they ought to have taken the blue rosettes off first before taking the picture.  She then went back into a box surrounded by loyal supporters holding up placards and cheering sullenly.
These photo opportunities political candidates go in for fool nobody so why do they do them?  Surely it must be possible to arrange something that does not make the candidate look very uncomfortable or have them shown up by a six year old.  I realise that for some meeting people is fraught with danger, remember John Prescott being punched by a Tory thug, the press outcry blamed him for retaliating but that was the correct thing for an ex-boxer to do!  There was no press outcry in Sheffield when the Labour MP at the time had a fridge dropped on him, and miss, from four floors above however.  In that district that was not uncommon!  
It was quite late in Victorian days before the secret ballot was adopted, until then candidates shouted from a rostrum unto their hearers knowing that as the big man of the area had chosen him the voters, then few in number, would vote for him, or else.  Those close contested affairs resulted in violent punch-ups and riots could easily occur.   Similar events, without actual riots, were not uncommon even in the late 1960's when speaking to an audience brought opposition crowds along to oppose.  This suited the type of orator who knew how to browbeat an audience, but not all could do this and few of today's lads and lassies would cope with an open objective audience questioning their opinions.  That is why so many debates do not occur, and even then the audience is controlled both personally and by those arranging the debate.
What a shame we have no Gladstones, no Lloyd Georges, no powerful speakers or major politicians today.  Not that I liked Lloyd George, he was a lying we nyaff who made Tony Blair appear honest!  Today the politicians are small men, Corbyn, Boris, May and the rest may be competent in one sense but the big men from the past would shove them aside if they returned.

The last day tomorrow, then we vote on Thursday, praise the Lord for that!

 

Normality Returns, Almost.

Theresa met some of her chosen few today in Edinburgh of all places.  They were all Conservative members all invited by email and only certain ones were allowed to ask questions.  The question "Why are we meeting in a closed warehouse? was not asked.  The sheep however applauded, cheered and waved placards as they were told to showing Theresa has learnt much from her studies on Romanian politics. 
Other questions such as "How many more Libyans are walking free?" were not allowed, nor was "Are you fit for purpose?"  There are lots of questions to ask these days but it appears you are not allowed to ask the ones that make her upset.  'Strong and upset' is the watchword.
I note the poncy approach to outrages continues.  A policeman gave out 'felt hearts' to all and sundry in Manchester, something not even considered when the IRA blew up Manchester killing a child, other police have been highlighted dancing with kids, although most police would do this and have always done this at party time, ans the news has been full of people telling their story of bomb and knife.  Maybe it is therapy for them but today people are only too willing, and I mean 'too willing' to tell their story especially if there is trauma involved.
This is not 'Love your neighbour' all this emotional rubbing one another up and down appeals to many but it lacks depth.  Tomorrow we will not be changed, just experienced as we used to say.  We live in a world where our emotions must be publicly shared, and I am one who believes is sharing folks when trouble comes but not in the open, have some regard for people.  Something false is appearing in troubled times, this will not get us through trouble.

Peter Sallis has died, aged 96.  He played 'Clegg' the timorous sharp witted, somewhat cynical observer of the three old men in 'Last of the Summer Wine.' His barbed put downs and cynical answers were always sharp and much the funniest of the three, no matter who the main protagonist happens to be.  I always liked him and his approach to life.  Clegg would be the one who plays me in the film of my life, without the 'Pacamac' raincoat of course.  Clegg, sorry Sallis also gave voice to Wallace in the 'Wallace and Gromit' films.  His gentle delivery, his accent and hint of humour or confusion made the films work for many.  He will be missed by many.

From the late 1960's through the 70's and into the 1990's I travelled frequently by rail from Kings Cross Station to Edinburgh Waverley.  Usually through the day but once I worked out the prices and times, through the night.  How often I sat in the doorway rather on the seats as this was more enjoyable on crowded trains, how interesting the activities at stations during the night hours, how lovely when old coaches with divided compartments from a previous age were used on the almost unknown night train.  All changed now, bar the prices.  In the past theyw ere expensive but often special pre-booked 1st class tickets were available and these were a very nice way to travel, very 1990's.  I expect today the word 'extortionate' is often heard when booking such travel, and that is not for the 1st class either!
For all those travel times I looked out of the window taking in the passing ever changing landscape.  Therefore when I discovered a video taken from the engine itself showing the journey from a drivers perspective I jumped at it and enjoyed the trip even better.  However it is a long trip and two journeys were required, one from Kings Cross to York and a second from York to Edinburgh, I bought both!  Today I have discovered a more modern version of this wonderfully relaxing video, this time from a modern 'Intercity 225' giving a clearer view and while this one only goes to York there must be another somewhere to complete the journey.  See if you enjoy this long rail trip as much as I do.

Angry and Cynical!

The world is full of sentiment.  All around politicians mouth platitudes, the weak and unstable Prime Minister vows to 'get tough' and the media fill space with meaningless repetition of what was said before.
Lies! All lies!
The US needless invasion of Iraq with Tony Blair's help added to two hundred years of suffering the west UK, France, Italy and the US amongst others have given the middle east.  No thought for the long term, not regard for the locals. 
Before the Great War the decision to fire the Royal Navy with oil rather than coal ensured Britain would control as much of the oil fields as possible.  After the war the French and British, with international help cut up the middle east to suit themselves.  The Arabs were given what was thought good for them. Any rebellion was answered by the RAF dropping chemical weapons on villages, women and children counted as little to us as they do to terrorists today.
Oil was and still is the reason today we run after the Saudis.  Their proxy war against Iran via Syria and Yemen has given us millions of refuges, which the UK is not keen to take in, British made weapons drop on Yemeni schools but as we need the money we say little but merely 'tut-tut' to the Saudis and apologise for interrupting their stoning a woman who was raped.

There are no good sides in the middle east, they are all bad.  That includes Israel.  God has put the Jews back in the land he gave them but as yet not one religious type has become leader, none amongst the powerful follow Jesus, and they all too often follow the middle eastern way of working, hit back and hit back harder.  Peace will not follow.

I find the attitudes today hard to stomach.  The 'touchy feely' response pretends that we care about one another though this is not reflected in the way people behave and certainly not in daily London life!  I spent 20 years there and consideration for others is not the priority, bomb or no bomb.
Concerts for Manchester, very nice but we never had these when the IRA blew children apart in Manchester.  We certainly have avoided a concert for the 80 killed, including a BBC driver, and numerous wounded at that time.  We mention in passing the dead in two explosions in Baghdad then move on to other things.
Something is wrong with us when we care excessively for our own and not for the other.  In the 1940 Clydebank suffered very heavy bombing, great swathes were destroyed, people moved out and never returned, many were killed.  When asked about bombing Germany locals often commented that they did not wish any to suffer what they had suffered, even in Germany.  That is not an attitude found today.
On the one hand we stand around, arms round strangers shoulders, emoting for the dead yet on the other we ignore the causes and the dead elsewhere.  Other suffering, more constant, more deadly and far away does not bother us.  Did you know that for 30 years warfare of various types has existed in the Democratic Congo?  Over 5 million are dead but no-one cares, there is you see no oil there.

UK & US politicians and most others know we are responsible for the terrorists at home.  The Manchester bomber was one of many kept in Manchester and allowed to travel to Libya to attack Qaddafi and cause terror to many in a cruel manner.  He was known to be dangerous and that is why the UK were angry that the US revealed pictures and information last week, not because it interfered with any investigation, this secret was to be kept, it hasn't succeeded.
Were these three knife carrying men known also to the police?  Note how the police ensured they were all killed, using 50 rounds of ammunition, an unprecedented amount in the UK.  Was there determination to ensure they were dead rather than protect the public?

The death of a few Londoners means little to high government, top secrets re their middle eastern policies are much more important.  Our inept PM was Home Secretary, responsible for controlling terrorism at home and knew all abut the Libyans, now she talks tough and lies in her teeth.

Is it safe to travel to London?
It is safer tan any US city when gun crime is high, it is safer than many cities world wide. 
There is however danger, the traffic makes crossing roads difficult, some people rob you so avoid such places and use common sense when out.  Take forethought out there, not fearthought.  Since the latest outrage how many people have died on the roads this weekend?  How many fell down the stairs at home and died?  How many were stabbed at a pub fight last night?
Probably many more than we read about on London Bridge.
Terrorists are out there so beware, but ensure your member of parliament after the election on Thursday knows you know what is going on.  Share your thoughts with him and get right up his nose on Friday.  It is up to the government to seek real peace, and honesty about the Islamists in this country.

Sleepy Sunlit Saturday

My refined 16 stone bulk required some beauty sleep today.  Having spent a busy week I needed to do nothing and that is almost what I accomplished.  Naturally I awoke at 5:15 in the morning, I do when I need sleep, and rose to contemplate my breakfast.  I would have contemplated it better if there had been more bred, why do I always run out of it on a Saturday?

Later in the day as I crossed the park I noticed the light was different.  I tried to capture it but the light was so clear, almost like the light found at the seaside where it bounces of the water giving a different 'feel.'  This struck me forcibly even though my brain was fogged.  In spite of the warmth of the day few were about and while I was out late in the afternoon I expected to see more people about.  Maybe we are not used to sun?

The evening was spoiled somewhat by Real Madrid winning the European Champions League.  I had rather Juventas won but in truth this competition means little to me.  We are forced to see this as the pinnacle of the game yet I watched several play-off matches which were more entertaining and more interesting to me.  I do not identify with Juve or Real, even though I fancy Barca.  I want to see my team, my league and more of that, not overrated players in a fantasy league that has drifted away from the people.  This competition takes priority but not to me it doesn't, it is time for a change.

Rain

Being stuck indoors while the plumber mucked about under the sink replacing the taps that fell apart I had little chance to get out.  This was just as well as after I had finished the clear up the weather broke.  The usual weather round here in Spring/Summer is a few hot days and then a 24 hour period filled with thunder and lightning and torrential downpours.  I hide under the bed...choking in the dust!

The torrents that fell, only for a short time it must be said but repeatedly all afternoon, forced normal people indoors.  Those dressed for the heat ran, walked or stumbled murmuring anti-rain words as they made their drookit way home.  The rain begins suddenly and caught many out, I laughed empathised from the window safe inside.
However the wood pigeons, possibly because we have had so little real rain recently, made for the developing puddle in the park and thoroughly enjoyed the bath/shower that ensued.  At least two were there in the downpour, other birds appeared when the rain eased up searching for beasties forced to the surface by the water.  The Crows when they appeared also cast mere disdain on the rain as they do on anyone or anything that passes by. 
Birds, they are not human are they?

Something happened re the election today but I really don't care.  I know how I will vote however this plan has been changed since last week as I hooked myself onto the Twitter feeds of the candidates and discovered the UKIP man does not have one, I wonder why, I already offer advice to the sitting Tory, the Lib-Dem woman was impossible to discover info about and the Green was not worth it.  This left the Labour man who has lost any chance of my vote as I discovered he must have blocked me at the last election!
I wonder what I said?
I must vote but this makes things difficult.  We know the national outlook but it is here at local level votes count, or in this case don't as the Tory always wins.  Even more chance now they are using UKIP policies.  How I miss that inner London constituency where there was no guarantee for any MP no matter what party they belonged to, this one feels like a one party state!  
One more week and then we can complain about something else.

Tim Moore, Awful...

Amazon

A while ago I read a book called 'One Man and His Bike' by Mike Carter in which in need of some stimulation he gets on his bike and cycles around the coastline of the island.  This takes him five months, it did not kill him!   I enjoyed the book, a gentle but indeed stimulating journey through the land, meeting people, places and himself.  I opted for this book by Tim Moore in the hope it would offer similar stimulating and entertaining views of people and land.  

I have been struggling lately to get through the books I have been reading.  These have been too heavy to rush and too packed with detail to be always easy reads.  So I broke of to read Tim Moore's book and I must say I have read it within a week!  It was a book that was easy to read and kept a hold of me all the way through, well until nearer the end when he began to tire me with both his opinions and forced humour.

The idea of the book is based on an accidental discovery of the Isle of Sheppey in the 1980's.  Here in the mist he and his wife blundered into crowds of holiday makers enjoying the delights of the foul seaside on offer.  Twenty years or so later he decided to pay them a visit again.  This time it was a dying image that he met.  People had moved on, caravan sites were almost empty, and the sun shone.  From this he decided to tour the country, visiting the worst places and staying and eating at what the public and others called the worst eateries and doing son in an ancient suitable car, a Bulgarian built Austin Maestro!  To make things worse he chose the worst music of the day, and we all remember it so to save earworms I will not mention any of the worst 80's music, he chose 348 tracks of this vile output to accompany him.

He travelled east up through Great Yarmouth, Skegness,Grimsby, Hull, Middlesborough and Lochgelly.  He returned via Cumbernauld where a local did the decent thing and attempted to kill him, Barrow, Southport's 'Pontins'Rhyll, Nottingham and several places I have missed out.  To those who have been here they would realise he has chosen bad places very well.  If the intention was to see how places had changed he succeeded, all had fallen apart since Thatchers time, the 80's and the 90's had not been good to them.  Vast areas of derelict land where docks, industry, coal mines and the like may once have stood now if they contained anything possessed industrial units, often closed. (This journey I ought to say was about 2010)  Asda and Tesco dominated many places as did the 'Brutal' architecture of the 1950's so loved by thrusting young architects.  To be fair many wished to replace the vast loss of housing the war brought and provide modern light, well provisioned housing, often it was good at first and a disaster as time passed.  Those moving from a slum in 1951 ( "cough" a very good year) into a house or flat with bathroom, kitchen, running water, bedrooms aplenty and decent neighbours rather like my parents did were overjoyed with what they possessed.  In Sheffield such housing was well thought out and only in the 70's when jobs failed and the early tenants moved away and were replaced by the losers of society did the place fall apart.  Brutal car parks in town centres were once everywhere, many now removed, workless areas led to depression, loss of dignity and an abundance of anti depression drugs being handed out by doctors unable to cure the situation.  Each town had a slogan, each slogan the author tells us fails to inspire, don't we know that?  Some had people working hard, others had given up, some councils appear to be trying, others less so.

Tim stayed at the worst hotels and boarding houses, some of us can recall similar results without checking 'Tripadvisor' first.  Boarding houses and hotels often appear run by people who care little, charge a lot, and have never been trained in customer service.  Who is to blame is a good question.

The food he chose to eat was repulsive and he gave far too many needless details about this.  Just as the descriptions of things found in hotel rooms were often needless, especially if I was eating.

It became obvious that this author was indeed a 'poncy Londoner' travelling around sneering at common folks.  He appears to speak to few people except those he meets in pubs or restaurants, and pubs are not the best places to meet people.  He wants to see depression everywhere, so why not visit parts of London pal?  Too many people he knows might be there I suppose.   

His visit to Lochgelly clearly shows the agenda he carried with him.  Settling into a Cowdenbeath pub for the night, grumbling about the place as he does so, he gets a bus, eventually, to Lochgelly a small mining village of around 6800 people.   Here our poncy Londoner enters two pubs, mocks the accent, as he does everywhere, and makes out the folks just sit there getting drunk.  This handful of people are enough for him to gain knowledge of the town.  However his real reason was to discuss the 'Tawse.' This allows him to launch into his predisposed opinion regarding such weapons and yet offers no suggestions as to dealing with the indiscipline now found in all schools.  All too often he discovers what he expects to find, deprivation, depression and despair.

He was wrong.  Mike Carter found some despair but a great many decent people on his journey, why did Tim find so few?  Could it be his boasting of how much he could drink in how many pubs had something to do with this?  A clear head would have allowed better conclusion, and removed many boring passages from the book.  Maybe people would then have talked to him?

Tim Moores intention is to write a humorous travel book, in the beginning this works well but as Barrow and Billingham are seen in the rear view mirror his humour begins to be forced.  He tries too hard to keep up the gag, too often desperate to fill a line with adjectives contrasting the view with something horrible, using his wit when a simple description would be better.  By the time Tim reached Rhyll it was getting tiresome.  Believe me I know when humour is forced or tiresome, I am told about this daily!

Still having grumped about his poncy Londoner sneering, insulting Lochgelly and Cowdenbeath where my mother was born and which I know well and would happily discuss their better points over a pint and a hatchet, mine, I would still recommend this book as a look at a Britain that may well be passing away.  Much 'Brutalist' architecture is rightly being destroyed, almost all industry already has gone and gleaming factories in bright industrial units are not in any way like the industrial past.  Remembering that the author looked for the worst and that he was looking to find bad things so we can ignore many of his conclusion, we can tell that out there huge areas of Britain are not connected to what is seen on our TVs or blabbed about in the media day by day.  The great and the good go their way filling the media with their distortions but the real people as always just have to get on with it and most of them do.  

At once a depressing but enjoyable book, one I was loathe to put down, in spite of the poncy Londoner, and I am left wondering if I can contact the chap in Cumbernauld and pass on Tim's London W4 address...?  

Read this book!

Zimmer Bus Day

 

I took a risk in clambering aboard the Zimmer Bus this morning, what with it being half term I expected the bus to be full of kids but as it turned out only one was seen.  She sat at the front with mum and placed 14 stuffed animals on the window in front of her and played with them all journey long.  Thankfully the rest either were away on holiday or found something nearer home to keep them out of trouble.  Most I suspect are rich enough to have a car and drive the brats out of town to a beach or parkland somewhere. 

A quiet journey other than the kid in the front seat and we passed the fields full of green crops awaiting the time to turn golden.  Quite a contrast, the green fields with gently swaying crops on either side of a narrow road full of traffic, much of it heavy traffic at that.  The major roundabout where every main road meets causes several mile tailbacks but just wait until the same fields are given over to the new 'little town' they wish to plant there.  Another entrance to add to the roundabout perhaps, or merely yet longer tailbacks as planners are ignoring the road system being over full even now?  

I am not sure what the three trophies on that sign are supposed to represent.  I am not clear as to whether it is new made to look old or an old sign slowly dying.  I never even looked into what the shop sold.  It did stand out from the Town Hall tower behind and I thought it worth a shot.  I looked into the proper bookshop just before this and forced my hands behnd my back and myself out quickly enough, I am reading three books and have ten more lined up so spending cash on more was not a good idea.  I could not however walk past the bookshop, it kind of dragged me in! 

 

This snatched pic from the bus sums up Camulodunum for me.  On the one hand there is the church tower going back centuries, old buildings, great history, residing alongside derelict shop fronts like this one.  What ought to be a well run tourist town, they refuse to be called 'city' as they claim they are the 'oldest town in England,' is ruined for me by being crowded, dingy and choked by traffic.  Add to this the number of what are called 'homeless' and the place takes on a grubby run down appearance.

The town appears to draw the 'homeless' like no other and I do not understand why.  On a sunny day it is not unusual to see a man, wrapped in blackets or old sleeping bag, sitting in a dark, damp underpass begging for handouts.  Some feel sympathy but I sense a chancer!  No-one begs just anywhere, certain places are money spinenrs and this is one of them, though not much spinning when I passed.  Too many offer coins to such beggers to ese their conscience, some from care and others thinking they may help such people.  All too often they are conned.  If you really wish to help homeless people then give at least £5 a month to a suitable organisation that works amongst them.  That way those that can be helped out of this lifestyle, and who knows what got them into it, these will be given help.  Those that do not want out can be left to it and many chancers who take home good money to add to JSA benefits or just live of the takings can be avoided.  Some of course, and I have a little experience of them, some need really professional help and a few coins may not do them any good.  If the conscience hurts offer a 'Mars Bar' or some such rather than money. Not much can be done about the traffic however, unless banning it all bar buses and taxis can be tried.

This young Starling was having trouble landing on the feeders, he ought to be able by now he comes everyday, and instead filled himslef up with the crumbs lying on the window ledge.  Do you notice I have as yet not got around to the window cleaning part of the 'Spring Clean!'  That may remain the case for a while...

I did however manage to visit every remaining charity shop in Camulodunum and find nothing that I wished for.  The nearest was a jacket that was too small wth a price that was too high!  Anything over a fiver is too high in my opinion.  Only one woman in the shops acknowledged my existence, there were plenty of women around filling the space being acknowleded however, and I note the mens secions in these shops appears to be shrinking.  Maybe the men are not throwing out the stuff they used to, Conservative austerity reaches even here.  

The bus home was empty, although a teenager managed to fill some time loudly talking on her phone to a friend about nothing for a while.  I preferred the child and mother on the way in.  We even arrived ahead of schedule in spite of the drivers attempts to slow down.  More chance to take in the green fields swaying as we passed, more chance to observe blue sky with the sun piercing the clouds, more chance for teeny to talk to her friend about nothing!

 

 

Museum Tuesday

This somewhat distorted view from my seat this morning was the result of two things.  First I was getting bored as being half term people take off for a holiday, not by BA I hope, and the town is quieter than usual.  The other reason was playing with the wee camera and trying to get something out of it, this is not really working for me.  I suppose I am too used to the big one and this is a wee bit fiddly point and shoot affair.  
This is not to imply nothing was happening, sixteen children attended the workshop this morning and all were very happy as they left, two grannies being the happiest as they appeared to enjoy things more than the kids!  The parents who left their and went off to other duties were clearly happy to have two hours to themselves, one managing to get so much done she struggled to comprehend what was happening! When the kids are not around things are so quiet and housework gets done!  Lovely kids all of them today I must say, and the owners are good folks also.

The other pictures were not up to much also and when the museum is quiet like this it gets a bit wearying.  Occasionally there are things to do that fill time but there was little to accomplish today as most of it was up to date.  There was of course dust to remove from the shelves and window ledges but somehow I managed not to see that until I was going home... 

There is an election ongoing at the moment and the media, owned by right wing barons, appear to consider Theresa May the one who will win.  The fact that those who saw her performance on TV being questioned by a journalist and then members of the audience say she revealed her weakness and inability.  Poor girl I feel sorry for her  Another who was desperate to be PM and desperate to hold on to office but has not got the personal and political ability to sustain her desire.  She probably means well but has little comprehension of how the world sees her and the fawning Tories around her do not help here.  While the Conservatives may well win the election with a majority I suspect she will soon be stabbed in the back and exchanged for a better man...if there is one.  

Two bombs went off in Baghdad the other day, one at an ice cream cafe and a car bomb not far away.  Altogether twenty seven people so far are dead and many wounded.  More than died at Manchester, more that died in many outrages in Europe in recent days.
Where is the media coverage?
Certainly it has been mentioned, certainly people 'tut-tut' about Arabs and bombs, certainly it is condemned but where are the people 'Standing with Baghdad?'  Where are the 'I Love Baghdad' badges and social media support?  Do football teams hold a minutes silence?
When a bomb goes off here we over-react, vast column inches are given over to somewhat ignorant speculation re the cause and who was at fault and 'why was nothing done' type articles.  When it happens in the middle East we just shrug our shoulders and say 'typical Arabs.' 
It is right to support your own, it is not right to ignore the suffering of others even if they have been doing it for thousands of years.  The West cannot claim a high ground when much of recent trouble began with ignorant European and US involvement in the Middle East.  I offer no simplistic answers, there are none among a people who hate one another as Sunni and Shia Muslims do, we could however attempt to help rebuild broken nations and encourage peace rather than sell billions off dollars worth of weapons to them to continue their wars.  Or is there something in all this for us...?

    

Dunmow Charity Shops

I took it into my head to visit the upper classes yesterday so off I went on the working class bus to an area more Conservative Party than our own.  You can tell the political leanings easily here, outside many million pound houses, and one or two worth slightly less than that, stood blue boards featuring a tree logo with the word 'Conservative' brandished upon it.  This I found somewhat ironic as a very large such board in a field on the edge of Felsted which we passed bore one such tree image and developers passing by would be only too willing to cut down all such trees and fill said field with million pound houses called 'The Meadow,' or 'Three Trees,' or 'Where are the Trees' or the like.  
The charity shops in a town of middle class wealth therefore ought to offer a higher standard of left overs and this indeed is the case here.  However my trawl through the shops failed to find anything I actually wished to spend money on bar a few original birthday cards although there were masses of items my sense of greed took a fancy to.  Foolishly I browsed the bookshelves and came close to buying one tome worth £3:95 until I realised this was only Vol 1, the chance of finding Vol 2 being rather scarce I persuaded myself this was not a good idea.
The volunteers in the shops who I spoke to were friendly, efficient ladies who appeared happy at their work.  This is not always the case in such shops, on too many occasions, caused by nervousness on inability to converse with anyone but the few you identify with, had left me with the impression such shops are run by menopausal women with a grudge against humanity.  Actually I meet them elsewhere often also.  If you are not happy don't be there I say but here in Oxfam the girls were cheerful.  These ladies were a bright advert for the shop in my opinion just as they were last time I passed through yonks ago.

Dunmow grew from a mere Roman crossroads stopping place into a bustling market town in the Medieval times.  Quite where the money comes from now I know not but there is plenty about, the houses outside the town begin at just over a million and while the cheap ones can be found, if you consider a quarter of a million cheap!  How does the normal individual earn enough to get a mortgage for that amount today?  Lawyers and other professionals possibly but you and I?  One thing I note is that people who pay a couple of million for a big house with acres of room plus servants quarters always have an outside swimming pool.  If you pay that much why not cover the thing in and use it all year round?  I suppose it is less for swimming and more for entertaining purposes, sitting around the pool in the evening with wine and backstabbing among friends I suppose.  One thing about such middle classes is the high divorce rate, money does not satisfy and some are rather too keen to share themselves out I reckon. Possibly I have just been reading the 'Telegraph' gossip columns again...?
However the vicar , the Rev Noel Mellish VC. MC. did not have a swimming pool at his town centre abode, he however did have a Victoria Cross awarded for rescuing wounded men over a three day period.  There is little doubt that had he not taken those few volunteers to do this work, returning under fire at first, then a great number of men would have died on those days, no-one else would have brought them in.  Such  a man ought to be remembered by his town folks, later he was the one who informed them from the pulpit that the Second World War had begun.
The rise in wealth hinders the bus however.  With Mercedes, fancy sports cars and those big imitation Jeeps come tanks called 'Jasmine' or 'Jemima' by the female owners parked on one side and Mercedes, sports cars and Jeeps coming the other way, all considering the road belongs to them rather than the common peoples bus, the drivers winding their way through the traffic must have wished they were doing this after the Great War when the bus traffic first began.
Mr Hicks, a well known Essex name, ran a 'Charabanc' from Braintree to Bishops Stortford at that time.  The 'Charabanc' was a simple bus, an uncovered row of seats with a driver at the front that revolutionised communication for the villages round the big towns.  There was the rail link of course but you often had to walk a mile to connect with that and the bus now dropped you at or almost at your door.  By 1952 there was no more rail link for passengers and the bus service, now with covered buses, improved greatly.  Lorry deliveries also hastened development during the nineteen twenties, the ex-army lorries abounded and many ex-servicemen found this the only way to survive in that 'dog eat dog' Conservative led 'austerity' time.
Today the rise in cars numbers, these folks have more than one each, means that the bus now appears only every hour and there have been attempts to end this also by people who don't need it.

 
While I enjoyed by short bus trip in the Australian hot sunshine I had also begun the day at six in the morning by cycling slowly up the old railway line.  How enjoyable that was as few were about and only an occasional mad barking 'Jack Russell' type were there to attack me.  The few other dogs I saw were so happy you could see laughter on their faces as they ran past.  What more can a dog ask than the chance to run free, note a variety of fragrances, the occasional squirrel to chase and a tit bit or two from the owner.   

You may consider this a work of art by some famous unknown artist who has made millions from offering such works to those with too much money and too little taste but you would be mistaken.  This is merely the pond at the far end of my ride where a solitary duck disappeared at my approach and was replaced by a million hovering beasties, the same type of beasties that hover in the shade of bushes in vast hordes awaiting passing cyclists who failing to avoid them end up swallowing the brutes via nose and mouth if great care is not taken.  In this case the sun reflecting of the water hid the brutes.  On occasion those who tarry here will see a collection of local insects buzzing around and a small board has been placed to indicate the general types found.  I saw one Mallard duck and a thousand flies!

   
I thought little of charity shops while watching the sun glint of the leaves and warm the stubs of crops in the fields around me.  Crops that have suffered too little rain for their good and while the sky has been dark, often damp, it has not yielded sufficient to please the farmers at the weathers mercy.  I can hear Sainsburys increasing their prices 'because of shortages' already!'  
However it is good to sit amongst green leaves and sunshine, in spite of the beasties that accompany you.  Rabbits sit upright in the distance wary of your existence, Robins and Blackbirds that a moment before you appeared were happily chomping on such beasties as could be found on the ground disappear while the chaffinches in the trees no longer sing as they wonder just what you are up to.  Still I like it early in the day even if it means my knees will remind me of their suffering later.

Occasional horses can be found trotting slowly along this part, however the day was too early for them.  These gates are to hinder neds who steal scooters or motorbikes and ride them up the old railway late at night when few are about.  While the police occasionally use bikes to cycle along this way these days I still think handing such neds over to the Saudi Authorities might be a good idea.  Maybe we ought to hand the parents over instead, that is if they have mothers.

  
Has anyone heard of a 'Long stay Catholic Church' before?  This one has all mod cons and services!
 

The Morning Shines Brightly

Amazingly the morning has shone brightly several days running now.  Today I trundled the rusty bike with my rusty knees along the way to see if I could catch it somewhere.  Indeed this old path with aged oak trees to one side (an aged map shows them there over a hundred years ago, how long can an oak tree last I wonder) offered a pleasant view at the top.  Beside me birds sang in the trees, young squirrels frantically looked for the way home and a proper forest, six foot wide, ran alongside the path.  This contrasts to the huge school field the other side of the fence justly hidden behind a stout fence and much vegetation. 

Only one early morning dog walker met my greeting and he was more concerned with his mobile phone and the many secrets therein to notice me.  The fact that he knows me and was too occupied to recognise me I let slide and passed on.  I suspect if we were able to read the messages contained on his phone we would not in the least find them interesting yet he stood head down ignoring the bored dog that wanted something to sniff while he perused his phone, he might still be there.

  
When they laid out the housing estate the clever people allowed much of the copse that existed to remain.  If you choose to ignore the old crisp packets and plastic bottles lying around from the scruffy unkempt types who wander through it does give a brief indication of a wood.  The more we build houses the more we require such small glimpses of green to enable us to breathe freely.  The mind can only comprehend so much stone and brick, it requires trees and green grass with areas of sky to let the mind relax.  The Victorians knew this only too well.  The rise in suburbs expanding out from town and city centres, slums all too often left behind, caused a longing for a romantic and unrealistic country life.  The song lines 'You could see to 'ackney Marshes, if it wasn't for the 'ouses in between' comes to mind.  The romantic vision ignored the damp country shacks, the poor life of the villagers, hard toil in fields and the disease that was just as prevalent as in town.  However from a crowded slum tenement after a 96 hour week it could be made to look attractive. 
Life is always better over there.   

This strange colour has been hanging all over the country today.  
I think the sky is broken!

The Wedensday Birds

To avoid the incessant noise re Manchester I kept my head in my laptop finally finishing the rebuild of the WW2 memorial.  A rebuild that almost went wrong as another glitch threatened to kill it once again.  The air was almost blue.  To ease my ageing eyes I wandered in the sunshine looking at half naked women admiring the glow of a sunny day.  Sitting on a bench, broken peanuts strewn before me, I eventually attracted a couple of Blackbirds to pose for me.  It was noticeable that when she approached he moved away, either a married couple or he was in her patch.  A Robin looked in but refused to be anything but blurred, he moved away. 

When I returned to the news I found the usual 24 hour concentration on the 'Big Story' unappealing.  Now I appreciate the importance of the Manchester event, I feel for the victims, I realise the seriousness of the situation, however I would rather journalism was once again introduced instead of the squalid reporting shoved down our noses today.  
Maybe I am just used to such outrages, maybe I note that when it happens elsewhere, Beirut or Kabul for instance, few bother to comment let alone 'stand with' those people.  Maybe I am just sick of pap masquerading as journalism for a lazy audience.
Interestingly the 'Sun,' Rupert Murdoch's main tabloid offering, gave the whole front page over to an attack on Jeremy Corbyn and his supposed support for the IRA Provos.  The Manchester deaths were hidden inside.  This speaks volume for Murdoch.   
I have just read that someone claims a UKIP individual is demanding the return of the death penalty...for suicide bombers!

The weatherman indicates tomorrow might reach 23 degrees, that's 73 in English!  A heatwave has hit us, the sun has been switched on and I have nowhere to go.  I need to go somewhere as the cooker requires cleaning as does the fridge, the cupboards, the windows, the bedroom, the East Wing, the everything else, and I wish to avoid such chores.  Now that I appear to have the old laptop under control I feel I can go outside again.  The fact that I just cannot be bothered, the effort appears to great for my fat, unfit, squalid body, and we have seen all that this area (without an automobile to use) can offer.    
I may just go back to bed...

Tuseday Tittle-Tattle

Last night I sat entranced at the bright red sky as the sun went down.  Had I not been otherwise occupied I may have tries to get outside and capture the sky.   Around half nine the sky was still stunning and I attempted pityfully to capture the night.  It was almost like this.  I awoke at ten past four this morning and found the sky lighter and still stunning.  How wonderful this time of the year can be, if it doesn't rain or cloud over.    
Of course as the sun shone I was inside the museum meeting good people and watching the boss work three peoples jobs.  I could not help while working the shop, most unfortunate.  The school was good, cheery kids.  
I had to rush home because the man was coming to check out the sink that had sunk.  Naturaly he came after two as planned, around five actually as not planned.  They had been working in Camoludunum.  Once here they quickly decided the job would entail replacing the entire unit, this meant a big job in a narrow space and both agreed it was time for going home.  So this will be replaced in time, probably a long time, and I will struggle on with the damaged tap until he can work up the courage and time to do the job. 
I might leave home while they do it!

Another outrage in Manchester, not the first they have suffered.  The media are filling spaces with masses of speculation and little substance so I am avoiding them. When I awake at four this morning I heard the early news and the guesswork as to what was happening.  I gave up as they began the tedious repeating of the same question to different people to get the same story over and over with little understanding of what was going on.  This is not journalism just filling air time.
 So what are we to do, what are we to make of this killing of around 22 people and wounding of dozens of others?  The rest of the audience, mostly adolescent and teenage girls, will be somewhat traumatised for years after this.  The apparent lack of stewards to guide or control them after the event was worrying and a greater disaster was avoided by luck it appears to me.
Today everyone is 'standing with Manchester' as you might expect.  This is good but we must ask will it happen again and why does it happen?  

The UK and the French, then the USA have been kicking Arabs about for over two hundred years.  The needs of Empire, or just greed, have ensured the woshes of what was considered the backward Arabs was of no importance to London or Paris.  The greater game was their concern and the dying Ottoman Empire and Arab opinion dd not count.  
Britain and France under the Sykes-Picot agreement, with Russian acceptance, divided the dead Ottoman Empire between themselves after the Great War.  The only Arabs considered worthy of discussion were lied to and their understanding of the situation totally amended to suit the agreement.  They were not happy.  
The resultant creation of several new nations, not all split thoughtfully enough it must be said, has led to nothing but war, assassination and bad feeling ever after.  
Now in more recent times to save the west from the nasty Iranians under the Ayattollah the Americans (That nice Mr Rumsfeld again) gave the Iraqis help when fighting Iran and ignored the million or two dead and dying because they were not 'us' and anyway far away.  What could possibly go wrong?
Well Saddam did not play ball for a start, the first Gulf War causing many thousands of deaths, but mostly Arabs, the second, needless, war cost more and being badly managed by Rumsfeld and Cheney led to the break up of Iraq, the growth of Al-Queda and Islamic State and how many other Islamic type groupings.
Now add Obamas desperate attepmt, an attempt desired by most in the US, to bring his troops home from Iraq and Afghanistan and see the fear rise in Saudi Arabia at the growth of Iran and their nuclear weapons.  Result?  The war against Syria led and paid for by Saudi's using ISIS and all the others to break up a peaceful and more tolerant state than Saudi Arabia. The result of this is the growth of ISIS and their attempt to build up and take over Saudi!  
It gets confusing from here on so I will let you guess the rest.

Now we have young men in many places convinced they ought to be strict Muslims fed a diet of radical teaching by persons unknown.  Those less competent as well as those who should know better respond to this as young men do who wish to change the world.  Many have died fighting in the Middle East.  Others have attempted action in the UK with only police action defeating them and usually with information from Islamic sources.  Fed a belief that dying makes you a martyr and glory awaits encourages many to enlist.  Young men respond to this and some take action.  
Whoever took action last night considers his act worthy of his faith.  With Muslim men, women and children killed by the west he considers his actions defending his faith.  Any Muslim killed would be seen as a martyr also, others merely unbelievers.  The fact that most were young girls will not deter him, the Middle East has seen many such suffer terribly over the years from Muslims and a few westerners would not cause the conscience much trouble.

We cannot defeat this behaviour by force.  It requires propaganda and actions to stabalise the Middle East and deal with each nations fears.  There appears little suggestion of such happeneing these days.  The US has just sold billions of dollars worth of weapons to Saudi Arabia, no doubt also to Israel, and anyone else who toes the western line.  That will not ensure peace.  
I thought I had a conclusion to put in here and I discovered I have none.  All that is in my mind remains the thousands of Muslims who die this way and we care not.  Baghdad, Beirut, Kabul anywhere in Pakistan all suffer outrages and most are not reported in the west.  We stand with one another in the west heightening the separation of two sides, each outrage polarising opinion and killing sensible debate on both sides. 
No wonder people read the media for easy answers.

  

There's Nothing on Tonight!

I am sitting here vacantly staring at the laptop.
The screen is blank.
There is nothing on.
Nothing, not one thing.
There is no football to watch anywhere!
The season has ended.
All players are off on holiday bar those awaiting a cup final of some sort or an international game.
Unless their agent wishes them to discuss money with a club possibly even the one they already play for.
This means there is no football tonight.
Nothing.
I am beginning to see spiders....

Mackay

Looking up from the eye strain caused by looking down at the laptop for twenty years I note the election is still under way.  I have discovered a simple means of not getting wound up by this I don't watch the TV news (bias towards the Tories) I ignore the radio except news highlights (Tory bias) and have stopped reading the online press (Crap).  At least that's what I said today but I forget in the morning.  By listening to Radio 3 in the morning I seldom get excited.  Music may soothe the stormy breast or something but it does not get you excited over politics and the lies bouncing about everywhere.
In truth I just canny be bothered today.
The Spring bug is still hanging around, my eyes are strained, me head fuzzy and few notice any difference.  However i cannot be bothered listening to the political arguments which as always are half truths and lies with added whataboutery all the time.  
So I have been working on the Spring clean and managed to pull the tap apart sending water gushing up into the air all over me.  That dealt with I spent time drying off and contacting the landlord.  His man has known for a while that the sink unit will need changed and did not fancy the hard work involved, tomorrow he gets to decide if he does change it or get a plumber to do so.
This will be after I have spent the day at the museum, short staffed and I think with a school in. 
Oh joy.