Work!

I shuffled into work half asleep this morning.  An air of quietness permeated the building, the kids are all back in school!  Add to this the girls were out 'ten-pin-bowling' last night there were a few hangovers draped over desks this morning.  I assisted by adding my cheery personality and was immediately shown the door and the way to Tesco for milk, an operation even I could manage.
Wrong!
I found the milk, checking for the furthest off date, and headed for the self service checkout.  I put the item through and it all stopped.  I stopped, the machine stopped, I did it again and stopped with the machine not even bothering to start.  Then as I realised the price was showing I placed the bottle to my right as you do.  It was at this point the young lass came to my aid, indicating the bottle ought to have gone to my left, not the right where an old basket was left and "You can't get the staff" was muttered under her breath.  I paid my money, eventually as the brute asked several questions about bags and cards first before my change arrived and I headed for the door, the lass pointing me in the right direction in the fashion women have when dealing with men.

Naturally with the kids being away I expected a quiet day of gossip with Peggy, however she was unavailable today and instead of sitting sipping tea and meeting a few visitors I was kicked out once again!  Laura sent me out to take photos for a project she is working on.  Naturally I could not refuse her, she would break both my legs if I did, so off I jolly well went, uncomplaining, unfed, and without any tea. 

A trail around town for kids has been prepared to reveal to them the things they see everyday as they pass by.  Or something like this.  Pictures, descriptions, all written in language kids understand will enable them to know their history better, or at least this is the intention.  So I had to take appropriate pics here and there.

How come when wandering through the town daily I never meet anyone?  Today while on a project I met several off the better classes!  This thankfully hindered my work and allowed me to rest for no good reason.  This Lane was once a road which has lain here for many, many years I sometimes wonder how many and was home to many works of various kinds.  Now it houses a fancy shopping centre, that's progress.  

The kids will know the church dates back at least 800 years, possibly much more and the fountain with the gay looking chap playing with fish was built to improve the area, the slums that once stood here being demolished in the 30's.   You will notice there is no water in the fountain, too many have been putting washing up liquid in the water where the detergent has damaged the pipes.  Now they complain it does not work but as soon as it does some berk will once again have it flowing with bubbles.

Something schools ought to consider is the 'Cage' or 'Lock up' once all villages in the area had one, many still stand happily, this was where folks, usually drunk, were locked up for the night in one of the two six foot cells therein.  Once the police station was built they lost some of their usefulness.  The much changed road on which this stands contained several public houses of dubious reputation, we know they were dubious as three had nicknames, 'Little Hell,' 'Big Hell,' and 'Perdition!'
It was better in the old days...

If they make it this far the kids will find on one side of the street 'Courtaulds' final mill.  The firm had been in the town and in many towns round about for over two hundred years.  Factories abounded and offices were found all over the world.  Sadly during the period after the war all this died away and the company was sold and resold to various businesses and this mill closed in the early 90's.  
What cannot be seen now is the number of houses that once stood in front of the Mill along the wall on the left.  There were several there until improvements were made for the motor car.  It is almost difficult to believe that houses would be there but pictures exist and somewhat downtrodden they looked.

  
Right opposite the very busy road lies the Silk Weaving Mill, two large white wooden buildings with sheets of window all the way along.  Once 'Warners Mill' was engaged on making robes and decorations for royal coronations and now it has also died away, foreign competition, from whom we stole the silk worms in the past many years ago, claimed back their dominance of the industry.  This building houses both offices and flats, the other offices and the 'Warner Textile Archive,' part of the museum and useful for women interested in courses on all sort of wool, silk, thread and such like hobbies.  Many courses take part here through out the year. 

Then it was off home to fiddle with the pictures and by the grace of God I worked out how to do this properly for once.  Then I sent the boss the pics by email and limped back to work.  Here I found myself totally out of routine as I had been out an hour and a half and (still without tea) returned to the usual confusion.  
However an attractive young lady came in and immediately caught my attention, my tea was forgotten especially as she came in to check on one or two of the Christmas items (that's Christmas!) and by the time she had left she had parted with almost £42, I say almost as she got a penny change. Soon after she sent her friend in who also paid £20 for one of the events.  I took more money in ten minutes than some days I take in a week!  
The problem came when she asked if she could pin up a notice, we let folks do this, and I took this and looked for a space.  The notice concerns a book reading group that meets in a pub once a month, hmmm...  However I looked for 'Blu Tack'  to attach the notice to the only space left on the wall and not one blob of the stuff either blu or White could be found in the drawer, and I raked the entire drawer.  Mentioning this to the boss she looked in said drawer and produced the entire packet of 'Blu Tack' that sat their in front of me.
They sent me home after that...

'Wipers'

Wipers Times

The 'Wipers Times' was a series of newspapers produced by men of the 12th Battalion 'Sherwood Foresters' Regiment stationed at Ypres in Belgium during the Great War.  Searching for material to make and secure dugouts they came upon a printing press and commandeered this as an aid to regiment, indeed Divisional moral.  One of the men being a printer got this working and his boss Captain (later Lieutenant-Colonel) F. J. Roberts (Frederick John Roberts) who was to win the Military Cross decided to go with it.  The captain became editor, rank pulling and Lieut J.H.Pearson DSO. MC, who also later became Lieutenant-Colonel sub edited the paper.  The 12the battalion belonged to the 24th Division and spread copies of the paper throughout.

These were men who volunteered during the patriotic days of 1914.  By late 1915 these men were becoming used to trench warfare and learning the cost of war.  By February 1916 serving at Ypres (called Wipers by the British as they refused to speak in the manner of the locals) and having already lost men to the war some satire/sarcasm re the war found an outlet.  

The salient in which they served was under constant fire.  Artillery often hindered the printing, men often went to work in the line and did not return, casualties continued and so the requirement for satire grew daily.  Adverts such as the above were common in the paper.  Ads for houses for sale along the 'Menin Road' (the centre of the battlefield) mentioned noisy neighbours and 'good shooting.'  

The British encouraged officers to be 'offensive.'  We were not here to sit and wait but to attack and push the Hun out of Belgium.  The cartoon above speaks well of the type of officer available to the division I fear.  'People we take out hats off to' section included 'The person who introduced the order forbidding company commanders to go beyond their front line trench.'  Also a point regarding the press 'Whether the London papers are aware there are a few British troops on this western front.'  

 'Pop' was Poperinge a nearby town of rest.

The press was not something the troops respected.  Full of patriotic bravado long lost among the men at the front they detested and spoofed the works of Hillare Belloc and William Beech Thomas who wrote it appears in a manner not to the liking of the troops.  While the fighting men had no desire to give up they also had no false understanding of the war.  Patriotic ill informed nonsense led to the items by 'Teech Bomas' and 'Belary Helloc.'  Both claimed to know how to win the war, Bomas had been in the front line defeating the enemy and of course neither were anywhere near it, the troops despised such men.  

   

Poetry was abundant among the officer class, who mostly sent in items for use.  And far too much appeared in the paper.  While it filled space not enough prose arrived and the editor often asked for contributions other than poetry.  It still arrived however.  Much was humorous, some poignant, most just acceptable.  It is fair to say none appeared amongst the great poetic works after the war.

The letters pages appears realistic in that only people grumbling about something appear to communicate.  Here they complain about the road, under constant fire, and the smell in the air, chlorine or Mustard gas.  All the while these men were fighting and suffering from a very unhealthy war.  Many obtained medals, many never returned.  The unknown contributors who cheered their mates may still lie as yet undiscovered somewhere under the salient.

The end of the war brought no celebrations among the division, they were just glad it was finished.  These men had fought a good fight and won.  The cause they entered the war for was a different cause from that which enabled them to win it, they endured and won and the survivors could return triumphantly but to what?  Having suffered the damage of war, often grumbling it was from their own artillery, they returned to 'Blighty.'  As a successful editor Frederick John Roberts tried to join a newspaper on his return but was offered only the post as a crossword compiler!  Work even for officers was scarce, we had a Conservative chancellor with an 'austerity' budget in power, and Roberts moved to Canada where he saw ought his life unheeded.  Rather a sad end but many heroic men endured much and returned to nothing whatsoever.  A reasonably happy family life with mixed emotions was the lot of the majority though those with bits missing may have found it harder going. 

The 'black humour' found in the trenches is with us still and is an important part of keeping us sane and stable in everyday life, I hope that never changes.

Some more from yesterday.

Car Show Day

Putting aside my bicycle clips I walked groggily over to the public gardens where, for the sake of raising funds to keep the gardens going, they put on a car show.  How wonderful and event near enough to walk to rather than miss because it is held in a field way out of town usually.

I accidentally took around 200 pictures but fear not they will not all appear hear, well not at once anyway...
There were a grand collection of old British cars, Austins, Bentley and Alvis for instance, and the fancy US efforts from the late 50's and a couple of ex-army items also.  I expected more motor bikes but only two appeared plus a scooter which was a disappointment especially as one of the bikes was a bit rough, probably working on it I suspect.  

   
I have always liked the idea of a 'Jeep.'  I prefer the British army version myself but the idea of just hopping on and off one of these is great in my little mind.  The 'Jeep' from the US term  'General Purpose' vehicle, the GP as armies like using acronyms (it is 'acronyms' innit?) then commonly known as 'Jeep.'  A more modern version was on sale around here recently and I really was glad I have no money as I was sure tempted by it.  Naturally it is useless in the UK as the open sides let in the rain quite a lot and our summers are not renown to bring visitors.  Still it's just another dream I suppose.

 Austin

Next door Austin

One of the finest cars on show I thought.

From watching all those war films made in the fifties I was given the impression that all RAF pilots drove one of these MGs or failing that a Morgan.  The reality however was somewhat different as one man indicated.  "We could fly a Lancaster all the way to Berlin and back yet when we landed we got on our bikes, none of us could drive!"  Few could afford any kind of car let alone a speedy roadster.  The war however enabled a great many to learn to drive and that without a driving test of any kind.  If you were passed fit to drive in the services the licence was handed over as that was considered good enough.

This you may remember was one of two 'Bubble Cars' that appeared on the streets around the late 50's.  An attempt to provide a cheap transport they did not last long as the 'Mini' appeared and these were obsolete overnight.  This one had room for a driver and one passenger or two very small ones. 

More famous for motorbikes BSA made cars for a while, this ended with the advent of the second world war.  One of these might cost you between £8000 and £15,000 today.  I winder if the bikes cost more?

 
Now if you wish you could buy this two seater tourer for me for Christmas.  I would never ask for anything from you ever again - well maybe petrol money...

Yankee things also appeared, much loved in Essex of course, this is a county that likes such flash vehicles.  I do like the pickup myself.

Next to what I take to be his Aston Martin Ian Jordan gave us an interesting mix of 50's and 60's music.  Most enjoyable and fitted well with the show.

Oh yes and if you are ever asked to volunteer for any event always make sure you understand the role you will be playing.  It would nit do to say say "Yes!" before realising what you have let yourself in for, like these two...

 
You might get more of these tomorrow...

Home from Home

I have been scrambling about under the furniture, searching the sofa and counting the pennies in the cider jar trying to put together sufficient money for a deposit on a house.  So far I have £32:23 pence and a one Shekel coin!  I am unsure this will be sufficient.
The thing is the man downstairs is moving out  After ten years or more of little contact (we fell out quite easily years ago) he has scraped together money enough to buy something somewhere.  This was helped by bumping off a relative quite recently and obtaining a good amount to enable the purchase.  I hope all goes well for him but I hope more for a decent newcomer into the building and not a couple of loud young folks pretending they are married, that always leads to noise, argument and the rest.  

 
The local rag tells us the average cost of a home around here is now £293, 251.  They also helpfully inform those willing to pay such an amount what they will need to earn thus:  "Braintree, hourly wage £19.13, weekly wage £717.38, yearly salary £37,303.50." That's £19 an hour!  OK, you take along a girl friend and ensure she is working but you still require £10 an hour and to also ensure you can keep your job.  Sickness, unemployment, pregnancy and other unfortunate events will surely hinder the income somewhat and we have not mentioned food, bills or life itself yet.  
Just how do people manage to buy?

This all goes back to the vile Thatcher, the woman who sold off all the council houses as well as most of everything else and forced the nation to rent expensively or pay through the nose for accommodation they could not afford.  This led to the inevitable as people sold when prices rose, moved into more expensive homes and when the economy collapsed they were out on their ear and called scroungers by the Tories.  
Harold MacMillan, a Tory who understood deprivation, was responsible for creating three million homes in the aftermath of war, he watched as she sold them off and began another era of deprivation.
The daughter of Thatcher, one George Osborne, a man deprived of her intellect which tells us something, knew how to make personal money and took her policies to their logical conclusion by ceasing to spend on public requirements, privatising them all and cutting aid to those who need it.  Under he and his toff pal David Cameron the number of food banks operating at life's bottom end rose from a mere 66 to well over a thousand and it is still rising!  What is worse is that the working poor are making use of them not just the benefit scrounger (@Daily Mail).

Two things strike me as interesting here, one is the fact that in this county our area is the cheapest!  You require more, much more, to buy elsewhere in the county up to almost £49 an hour in the dearest areas.  Where do they get the cash? 
Now obviously nearer London the Rock guitarists, actors, and celebs you wish to avoid can splash out on mock Tudor mansions costing a million or two, those laundering money from abroad may wish to remain near the airport and others come from money dating back to the days of the wool trade and know how to fiddle the books in a manner unknown to those of us from North Edinburgh. Even so the number of ancient houses once the lodge of farm labourers that are priced at around half a million is enormous and folks gazzump to by!  
I see little opportunity to obtain one of the houses I have eyed up recently and I have put my name on the local Housing register in case something happens with my landlord, decent though he is his age is in the 80's depending on who you speak to and what may happen we know not.  A brief glance at the available properties on offer show none in this town and all with many people ahead of me in the queue.  
What I require is my sister to keep buying those lottery tickets, win a fortune and pass some on to me.  This was a hope for a while now dashed as she now puts the lottery money on the mantelpiece and saves it!  The good Lord will however look after me and I have had 21 years of relative peacefulness in this place.  It has been a vast improvement on London and I trust him to lead me on. That said Brexit will lead to much deprivation in the land and this place will soon be a palace in comparison to those losing their homes and filling cheap boarding houses.  I have been fortunate so far, have you?  

Museum Day

Museum.
Kids.
Lots of kids.
Rush here, rush there.
Mums.
Grans.
Granddads.
Families.
Kids.
Lots of kids.
Heat.
Rush here.
Rush there again.
Talk, talk, talk....
Questions.
Phone calls.
Kids.
Last week of school holidays.
Home.
Eat.
Sleep...