Daily Trials...

 

The problem about having a busy week is the Monday afterwards there is so much to put right around the house.  For a start I had to run up the road for bread at half seven this morning (the term 'run' is not to be taken seriously) then I had to eat, find my head, decide on the plan of action and begin the day slowly.

  

First there was study to get the day going.  This I now decide is not a good idea when half asleep and crumbs from breakfast litter the laptop!  Someone said the morning is the best tim to think, they I assure you were not getting into bed at eleven at night and waking up at five in the morning to listen to the Shipping Forecast!

As I attempted to cogitate i also did the washing.  Note how I call it 'washing!'  This is unusual as these days I have picked up the English way of calling this 'laundry.'  Scots always refer to the 'washing.'  What is the difference, none at all as these days Mr Zanussi does it very well, especially when I remember to put that liquid stuff in.  

 

After this I also hoovered the floor and cleaned the Loo!  Those wire scrubbers come in usefull at a time like this, I suppose I should do that more often...  There again i would not like to get washday hands would I?

 

As I did so I took advantage to read some of the books piled up in there and it was then that I realised it was her birthday.  My great niece is 18 tomorrow, eighteen, my great niece!  18!

It was bad enough her Mum becoming fifty but she is now 18!

At this point I sat on the floor and wet silently as my life passed me by.

Then to make matters worse, if it could be worse, there was no card suitable.  I had to trail out into the great outdoors and search for a cheap card suitable, naturally there was none available so I had to choose something and paid the vast amount of gold coins required.  I also went into the women's clothes shop where a man worked the desk.  Normally I get the girls vouchers for Xmas in here as this pleases the older ones who then feel young and displeases the younger who see mum in their fashion!  The man was not such a man as I thought, his purplish long nails I thought made working the computerised till difficult, he was however efficient, pleasant and helpful which is of course not what I had been finding in the big towns last week.  So armed with my card, my gift card and my debt I returned home and posted off the black envelope.

   

Much of the rest of the day has been researching people.  The boss is trying to find a relative of someone who donated stuff years back so it can be returned or whatever and we have a contact address but from the eighties!  We have been doing our detective work very badly and going round in circles.  I must Google 'How to find people' and see what I can learn.  The family appear to be still alive, there are as yet no death notices around, I just hope they have not emigrated.

 

Then all that remained was to prepare for the morrow.  Gathering everything bar intellect in one place helps me remember what to take with me.  I often forget to pick it up mind, but age does that. 

 

Ah then there was lunchtime! 

 

Now most of the day is like me, done!  It is time to watch football, any football, from anywhere, featuring anybody, good bad or indifferent, just let's relax and do nothing for a while. 

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Books & Charity

It is not that long ago I noticed I had nothing to read.  The books shown above had not taken long to get through others had come and gone and yet only a few days ago I found I had nothing to read.  That is I was plowing my way through one or two rather turgid books, had one or two I had to read and the 'can't put down books' had run out.  
This morning I was given a book for free and indeed could have taken several more if I wished and having just bought two on Friday I placed this one alongside them.  Then I realised the pile of books was getting rather high again!  Where did they all come from?
One day there was nothing and now they are all over the place.  Not a 'Kindle' in sight I may add!  None of that technical stuff, I mean you canny read in the bath with one of those, you might drop it.
This I must say is a good situation.  How we can pass the time without a few books lying around I fail to understand. Occasionally I wander through the charity shops looking at the books and round here they are almost all wimmens fiction or aged 'coffee table' books.  I reckon the girls buy them at one shop and dump them at another.  They appear to be the same books that were on the charity shelves when I first came here 19 years ago.  Mind you they are the same women reading them.  How I miss London charity shops, those in 'regenerated' areas always had decent books on offer, even if a bit pricey.
The only real bookshops these days are 'Waterstones' and 'Oxfam' bookshops.  I understand they need money but it appears to me 'Oxfam' charge too much for old books.  'Amazon' have reduced book prices but killed off bookshops.

A Wedding Today

One of our attractive and intelligent young ladies got herself married to her Knight in Shining Armour today.  I mean Knight as he turned up at the museum one day on a horse, wearing armour, with a Paige to accompany him, got down on one knee and proposed!  At first she thought it was someone trying to sell their services to the museum but eventually understood who it was when he removed the helmet, just as well she said 'Yes.'
So today, in front of a supportive crowd, they became man and wife with all the full palaver of an Anglican wedding service.

Bridesmaids abounded, women scrubbed up well, men in suits, even I had a bath!  Two people didn't recognise me!  The hymns were mumbled, the prayers followed, the address was short and the people stood outside for ever as the photographers, at some cost, made the video and took pictures.  

As you can see all were entranced by the proceedings, their eyes constantly on the bride.  On the left sat the brides side, mostly the grooms on the right.  As she arrived as one the woman looked at the dress and murmured, the men murmured also but differently.  One side wondered what she saw in him, the other how he got his hands on her.  All wondered how dad was going to pay for this lot! 

This is a proper Low Anglican church, evangelical and a wee bit middle class.  It has stood here for around 800 years and who knows how many are buried in the grounds?  It is thought the Saxons ans even the Romans buried folks around here so the archaeologists of the future will have a great time digging in this hill.

Some began to find time dragging, we were twenty minutes late when we actually began as the photographers fussed around outside.  Some began to look for alternative enjoyments.

Soon my women and I tumbled out to greet the happy couple one by one, this took some time!  Then more pictures were took and almost everyone had a camera or fancy phone to picture the individual groupings lined up, even us lot were in one alongside the happy couple, in spite of him saying " OI! Keep away from her you" just because he knows me.

 Having arrived in style, the happy couple departed in style.

Drawn by two white horses.

As we speak they are now dancing the night away at an expensive wedding venue, although the happy couple may well be on their way to the honeymoon of their dreams.  I suspect Honolulu, Guam and Skegness have been considered for this but where they go I know not.  I asked about the reception but was told they already have a drunken uncle, from 'his' side, a lecher, from 'his' side, two or three for the fight, from 'his' side and as there appeared no opening for me I came home to listen to the football results and burn my dinner.

How unusual to attend a wedding!  I have not been at one for around 25 years now and there used to be one a month at one time.  As always it is interesting to note how people behave, to recognise those who doubt the worth of the bride or groom, the one scared to be in a church, those who meet the family only at such events, and to watch how Englishmen, and these were almost all Englishmen, behave.  This lot behaved well, the couple are happy, the couple are popular and everyone appeared content to be here today. 

I enjoyed my day as the lass was happy and I am glad for her.  All will be well here.

Friday Wander

Wandering about Camolodunum today I discovered the Orthodox Church of St Helen tucked away round the back streets.  Greek Orthodox do appear in many byways in the UK, one in Bayswater was a large and wealthy church with all the top people attending, this sadly is somewhat run down today.  The picture makes it look better than it is (adjusting white balance to shade does this) and I was disappointing for the people there as it must cost a bit to maintain.
I was glad of the cool rest on a muggy day and took one or two shots and sat and looked around me. As the do the place was covered with icons, something I can never comprehend.  To me the book says read the book, baptism and Lords table, anything else, no matter how long it has been in vogue, is needless.  Yet in Orthodox circles such abound.  I wanted to take a few more shots but was disturbed by some unsmiling Mediterranean patrons who arrived, mother kissing several icons, dad another, all glaring at stranger.  I attempted to exchange a few words but was not made welcome and moved elsewhere.

The church was originally built in the eighth century possibly by King Offa of Mercia (the English Midlands) who had overlordship here.  The building was erected upon the foundations of a Roman theatre, this being the actors end, the ground rising behind.  Just a few doors up there is a small unopen museum where some remains can be glimpsed as can this model.

After the Boudicca revolt, she was upset when the Roman governor slapped her around, raped her daughters and grabbed her land, she was irked enough to burn down Verulanium (St Albans) Londinium (London) and Camolodunum (Colchester) and all those within, so the Romans strengthened the walls of the town, butchered most of her people and settled down in their new theatre.  Walls around the town were added quickly, just in case.
So the church was built on the foundations of the ruin and thin red Roman bricks can be seen in the walls.  Something seen on so many churches in Essex, old Roman villas are often reused. 
The Normans rebuilt what is now known as Colchester castle, although it was never really such, and around 1079 rebuilt the church which was a bit run down.  The reformation removed all the needless stuff and the building served many purposes until once again restored during Victorian days.  The Orthodox looking for a building now rent this from the Anglican owners and this gets used regularly after some years of standing empty or being used as a store.  How can such old buildings be used this way? 
Some believe St Helen, the mother of Constantine was born in King Coel's Castle, Colchester Castle, and this may be true I know not, she was probably born in Asia minor however.  She dug deep under Constantine's original Church of the Holy Sepulchre and found pieces of the 'Holy Cross.'  I have been down the steps leading to this area and have my doubts personally.  The idea of his mum with pick and shovel digging down intrigues me however.  British connection exists with this pair however as Constantine was declared Emperor while at York while his father Constantius Chlorus was governor of Britain.
Typical Yorkies!
The East Saxons living here by the way gave us the term 'Essex' and the present Essex County badge features three Seax's, the curved sword loved by the locals at the time. Some would love having one today if you ask my opinion.

Standing outside the 'castle' today you get a real understanding of the defensive position.  High on hills on three sides once the Roman walls went up it was very strong indeed.  The Romans of course never took the place by force, the locals in Kent and Essex welcomed the advantages Rome could bring and those that didn't got chopped.  The town had many Romanised locals and ex-soldiers residing their in safety until the man upset Boudicca.   After that a more Roman approach was adopted.

The comparison between Colchester and Chelmsford intrigued me today.  Chelmsford, the County Town (now City) is boring, however it is clean for the most part and while there are a few dregs walking the streets on the whole it is quite decent.  Colchester on the other hand is at first sight dingy, crowded and features many who appear either disreputable or had great social needs.
I have never seen beggars in Chelmsford but they exist in Colchester.  There are a great number who at first sight would be happy to appear on the 'Jeremy Kyle' show, other painted hussies of unclear age look like they have walked out of 'Eastenders' after having received too much make up and clothes clearly too young and too small for their wrinkles.  The nature of the narrow Roman like streets does not help even if it lends more attractiveness to the town than you find in Chelmsford.  Here at least a wide variety of small shops exist, some prospering for a decent time, but a dreich day gives the place a dingy look.
Having said that the area on the other side of the High Street slipping steeply downhill contains many houses going back hundreds of years, or at least newer homes built in similar style, this area known as the 'Dutch Quarter' after the Fleming's and others from France and Flanders escaping Spanish or other oppression in the fifteenth century.  Much of Essex gained from these immigrants, most of whom were weavers or dealers in the wool and cloth trade.  We might benefit from those immigrants arriving today by the way.   
Strangely I prefer the variety of shops in Colchester, many of them and a good selection, but it is a bit in need of a good clean.  Chelmsford has its uses but it is boring, just a big shopping centre and little else.

On the wall of one of those houses I found this and it reminded me of those similar signs once used in days before a fire service.  The householder would insure his house against fire with one company, a sign would be placed on the wall, if a fire broke out he would call the company and men would arrive to save the house.  No sign, no firefighting!  Edinburgh I believe was the first city to introduce a proper fire service, and I am not surprised.

Thursday Twittering

 

As I picked up the mail this morning I found a card lying there.  The electricity man come to check the meter and I had not heard his knock (the bell has long been bust).  I suppose I did not hear this because I spent two minutes hoovering a path through the dust around that time and that deafens everyone, especially the chap below who works nights.  It's a giggle though!

I noted the card informing me he would return tomorrow morning, between 8-12 am.  As I intend to be on a bus by 9:15 I may miss him.  Now this is interesting to me as normally I check my own meter and send it in online, today was the company attempting to ensure I was not cheating them. 

His problem is made worse as the meter is not in the house but in the basement entered around the back.  My downstairs neighbour will never answer the door, he would be awake when this chap called, so he would not be informed of this.

However the card helpfully states that I can mark the details from the meter on the card and leave it where the electric man sent to check the meter can see it, a normal procedure right enough, however he is supposed to read the meter himself!  So to ensure I am not cheating them I fill out the card normally and leave it for him!  Brilliant!

If only banks were as helpful...

On the start of Windows 10 there is an 'app' that tells you the weather.  On mine today, and indeed I've just noticed it remains there yet, the weather informs me the temperature is 65% and 'mostly sunny.'  When I first noticed this, in between the WiFi disconnecting for no reason, the thin rain was coming straight down as it had been for some hours.  It has restarted again, without the thunder, and will continue most of the night the BBC weather man claims.

Where I wonder do Microsoft get their info from? 

Tsk!  Now I click on it a change has arrived the temp has gone up to 67 and it is now, mostly cloudy.'

Someone must have stuck their head out of the window.

Where Are They Now

The reason the weather has deteriorated is because I have a wish to visit Camolodunum tomorrow.  I must change my book voucher even though I bet there is nothing I wish in the only store open to me.  A walk through the shops, in spite of the women using them, is a must, and then home to iron shirts once again.  Scots schools have begun to return I believe, down here they are always a month behind.  We have our last kids activity on September 5th, that's four Saturdays away, so I suspect if I don't get the earliest bus, 9:15, I will meet the brats spending folks money.  It is possible the rain will keep them indoors.

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Out and About

As early as the free bus pass would allow I limped down to the bus aiming for Colchester.  However as the Chelmsford bus was leaving seven minutes earlier I got on that and chatted to the driver about Edinburgh and the crowds attending the 'Fringe.'  I was unsure about going there as there are more charity shops elsewhere and I was shopping.  The jacket and the book voucher were in my mind.

Chelmsford is not a city in which smiling is proclaimed.  The few shop assistants to be noted were either ignoring the customer, careful of the inch of paint on the sour face or like the sole male on the phone.  I trawled my way through all the charity and big shops finding high prices on suitable things and low prices on things that did not fit or were unsuitable for anyone not living in London.  Eventaully I obtained, in M&S of all places and at huge price, something that will more or less fit and just have to do for the next thirty years.  An imitation Harris Tweed jacket, sixty pounds less than the real stuff.  Sometimes even I have to put on a degree of smartness.
How disappointed was I in Waterstones. I searched the entire floor of the shop and came away with nothing!  What's the matter with these bookshops that they don't stock something I wish to read?  That's never happened before.

 

In less than an hour and a half I was back on the bus, drifting past old expensive and occasionally somewhat shabby houses looking for a healthy lunch.  The cloud cover had not diminished the warmth and the day enabled me to rejoice in sitting starkers at the laptop something not usually done in this country.  I really should remember about the windows next time.

One other thing, Local news on TV, why do they always have a medical story on there?  Tonight someone was having some sort of cancer operation, why is he on TV?  Every night they are in a doctors, a hospital or telling us of a man who fell over and broke something, why?  I spent ten years in hospitals and occasionally made use of them for myself also yet never did I phone up the local news and talk about it.  Never in the working days in the NHS did anyone rush to the press because they were ill, why do it now? 
This TV region covers three counties, if the cannot find a decent story with all the history, industry, people past and present what are they doing employed?  Either cut out the health stories or reduce the programme to fifteen minutes which is all they really require.  How much time can be taken up with fire, rape, murder, doctor each night?  
Go out to the farms and watch them gather the harvest, find a happy farmer, that will be difficult, and tell his story.  Talk to the bus drivers about what they endure each day, have a contest to find a smile in Chelmsford, do anything but stop going to the doctors to fill space. 

 Daily Mail

I read about this the other day, a 53 year old unfit granddad goes to Iraq to fight IS.  Some see him as daft others see him as a hero.  I just wondered about why he gets so excited about IS?  Sure his brother died in Iraq in 2006, sure IS are not nice but neither are the Taliban and many died there in Afghanistan.  His contribution may please him and those around him but will do little to stop IS and their doings.  Could it be the propaganda has got to him?  Could it be he believes the bull in the press?  Or is he just wishing to be a soldier?  I'm sure there are a thousand things in his local area that require change, just ask the police, and I'm sure he could do more working amongst the locals if he really wishes to change things.  The lure of shooting people can be er, deadly sometimes.

Sympathy Lacking

Amateur Photographer

There has been much made recently of the sufferings of the Japanese people, always referred to as 'innocent civilians,' when the two atom bombs were dropped in 1945.  Now suffering such as this is indeed terrible and it is to be wished it had not occurred however I find my cynical nature rising at this as I contemplate the sufferings of the people in Korea, dominated by Japan since before the turn of the century. The Korean women used as prostitutes for the Jap army, the Phillipino, Indian, Burmese, South east Asian people who suffered brutality under the Japanese occupation also get mys sympathy.  As does our own British troops and our allies, Indian, Australian American beaten to death, tortured and enslaved by cruel Japanese forces.

When the Japanese admit their 'rape of Nanking' their despicable treatment of the Chinese civilians, women raped to death and men tied up and used for living bayonet practice, then I might feel sympathy for their suffering.  However being unwilling to 'lose face' the Japanese have never admitted their faults (the Germans of course have) nor have they faced up to their wrongs.  Lets not forget that had the allies invaded Japan every POW would have been shot, over 100,000 of them, but of course they don't count.

Two points here, one is the recent discovery that those who suffered under the bombs were more or else ignored and kept aside by the government of their own nation as they did not wish to remember their wartime actions!  Another discovery was an email claiming (with photographic evidence apparently) that the Chinese did not suffer but happily welcomed the Japanese, this 'evidence' arrived the other day showing how some still refuse to accept their wrongs in Japan.

The 'A' bombs were devastating, however more died elsewhere from other bombings, including Japanese bombs.  Those two bombs did however stop any nuclear war in the west as all were soon aware of the cost.  We all know what even small nuclear devices can do and the nine nations that possess them require to maintain control over them and their neighbours (yes India and Pakistan I mean you!).  While people feared nuclear war in the west some fifty million were dying in south east Asia, Africa and central America as the cold war was fought by proxy with everyday weapons.  I never feared the US or USSR would use theirs, it is more likely a rouge state or one with an unbalanced mind in charge that would be tempted.  We are back to India & Pakistan!

'Innocent civilians' those supporting their soldiers, sailors and airmen, making bombs, guns, weapons and encouraging and praising their men were all involved in war like the citizens in the west who suffered.  War today as it always has doe includes civilians.

   

It appears that people in the outlying areas of Australia, I suspect this means Queensland, have been misusing Australia's staple diet.  These people have not been eating 'Vegemite' but turning it into alcohol, getting drunk and beating one another up as if they lived in Glasgow.  Now I realise that some folks canny stand this sort of edible but many of us have tried it and found it better than 'Marmite' (the spellchecker calls this 'Termite')  the original substance that is difficult to describe.  However few to my knowledge have ever attempted to turn that into alcohol but I suppose somewhere in Glasgow as we speak several shops are being broken into and the 'Marmite' removed.

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Physicality or Brutishness?

My knees informed me that we were not going far today, we were standing at the bus park at the time, so I checked the minutes before any bus arrived and calculated it would be better returning to bed.  I wandered around town first trying to get some sunshine onto me, collected my veg and went home to cogitate on words, especially 'physicality.'

You see this is another word that has suddenly become common usage in the football world.  For a while footballers became 'athletes' something they were never called in my young days, and now using their strength has become 'having good physicality.'  Instead of 'barging the enemy about' it's 'making use of his physicality.'  Why I ask must we use language in such a manner?  All organisations, all groups of people, all towns, cities and villages (all today always called 'communities' rather than what they are, towns, cities and villages) have words used in their line of business or area.  This is normal and we can all soon gather the appropriate terms if need be but why are the words in football these days so silly?

Could it be an attempt by those with too much money trying to improve their image?  Using a word like 'cogitate' rather than 'think' makes me look educated, something which is soon disproved.  Also if we have our own language we 'belong,' we belong to a specific group and are better than they out there, we can then look down on their stupidity and feel superior and bully them needlessly.  But the man using the word today is not looking down on folks, nor does he bully, this man was just speaking words from the up to date phraseology and probably didn't notice he was doing this.  It may well be the number of highly trained sports physio's, doctors and specialists originated such a phrase hopefully they will soon learn to speak in simple terms so the lads around them can understand what they are talking about.

p.s, The Heart of Midlothian are top of the league already.  Only run of the mill physicality was used. 

 

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A Walk in the Sunshine

Last night as I reclined on my bed wondering whether to change the sheets now it was August I decided on a day in Camolodunum (which the spell checker thinks is 'Numerological' for some reason) and so i rose somewhat earlyish and made for the bus station and the 9:20 bus.  
Naturally being me the bus leaves at 9:15, someone has amended the timetables again!   
So thinking clearly I changed my plan and got on the free bus to the shopping centre where I realised my runabout jacket was fine for carrying a camera in the pocket but not for a sun which had decided to shine for once.  We arrived at 9:30 only to find the shops there don't open until ten!
Grrr!  My plan was to look for a sports/dress type jacket to make me look smarter than I was today, and many clearly agreed with this plan.  I glanced at a window or two, a young shop staff member arriving for work or two and got a dirty look or two in response.
I made for the free bus.
However instead of returning home I took another bus, grasping my free bus pass for old people in my hand and we wended our way past the harvested wheat fields, through a village here and a village there and after around an hours quiet tour we arrived in Witham some six miles from home.  A car would have taken the straight road and been there in fifteen minutes.  It was however a good day out, no screaming kids on the bus, the country views were enjoyable as I have not been amongst them for a while and some villages were part of the WW2 research and I saw them close up.

Witham is not a great place to be.  It lies on the road from Camolodunum to Londinium and during the medieval period the Knights Templar who owned the land in the towns original centre in 'Chipping Hill' obtained permission (which means promised taxes to the King) for an Inn and associated buildings on the main road.  This blossomed into the grubby town that stands here today.  Fifty years ago it was not a bad place however the London overspill, trains take an hour to Liverpool Street) meant it grew abundantly and not very nicely with lots of Londoners and their outlook forming the majority of the near thirty thousand populace.   
The 'Spread Eagle Inn' pictured above in a grubby state today has they claim stood here since 1300.  This may well be right, although much of it is 15th century and the Victorians did it up somewhat, and along the road the Town Hall stands where the 'George Inn' stood for several hundred years.  Travellers by foot, horse or coach would find this a suitable stopping place before the railways came. Methuselah Head was publican here in the late 1890's and into the 20th century, that's the sort of name a publican requires!

At first sight it looks like this was once a jolly nice house that has been ruined by changing first into a
shop and then into a bookies!  However while once it may have been a nice house, without water or toilet, it may well have been inhabited by some rough nasty type of whatever 'class.' We alas do not know.  he lived well, the chip shop is next door!

This derelict building was once very grand.  The town found a mineral Spa during the late 1700s and made capital out of this for a while, and the number of late Georgian/ early Victorian buildings lining the High Street indicate money was coming from somewhere but I am not sure where.  Agriculture was certainly big but what industry at that time I have yet to discover.  There are many delightful but now grubby buildings used for purposes other than that for which they were made.

This dwelling like many in these parts appears to be timber and lathe, such a fragile looking building material yet it has stood here since the 14th century like so many others.  I remember it as a book shop a few years ago.

 Witham's most famous resident outwith the English legal system is one Dorothy L. Sayers famous for her detective fiction featuring Lord Peter Wimsey.  These are still popular and have occasionally turned up in TV dramas, possibly they contain too little guns, explosions and naked wimmen for audiences today however.  I did hear on a TV or was it radio programme that she was married to a man who spent his time in the pub down the road crawling home drunk each evening.  Possibly because of her Christian humanism she never divorced him but luckily he died seven years before she did, she died in 1957.  

You would be surprised, if not disappointed, if I omitted the Witham War Memorial wouldn't you?

 The better half of the high Street possesses Georgian and Victorian buildings still in excellent condition costing excellent prices.  I am not quite sure what goes on in this one but it represents many of similar design along the way.  They all possess several steps and a railing or two, usually with a boot scraper alongside.  In the days of dirt roads and nothing much for a pavement such steps were required for the genteel and everybody else.  How mucky must the lobby indoors have been I wonder?  The Greek influenced doorways show the lack of understanding of ancient Greece by those who travelled there on the 'Great Tour.'  They thought all Greek temples were white but most had colours all over the pediments and friezes.  These in this country were always white.  White stone is marvellous in Greece where the sun shines daily, not so marvellous in Edinburgh where the skies are gray and soot from the chimneys turns them black!

 I love finding buildings like these, now commercial I guess they were once houses though it's possible they were used as shops from the beginning of their life one way or another.  A charming short row at the traffic lights where traffic thunders by daily.  Just where you wish to eat lunch.

Luckily I missed my bus.  This meant with time to kill I wandered down an area I had never ventured into before.  This took me along the River Brain and up to the best and oldest part of town.  Here I found this aged bridge and as I attempted to take pictures of the stones a few inches below the surface the dog appeared along with a despairing owner.  On holiday in the south west he got used to going in the water and insisted on doing so here.  When I moved on he was still standing there failing to understand why she wanted him out on a hot day and why she was not joining him in the cool water.  He might still be there.

At Chipping Hill I was almost at the oldest part of Witham.  There was an Iron age fort here in the distant past and from there a market appeared some time later.  I believe 'Chipping' comes from an old word meaning market but the book with the info is in the museum, not here!  Shown is an ancient bridge which carries innumerable traffic daily.  It is a suicide bridge in that only one vehicle at a time can pass and the drivers view is not perfect, indeed neither appears to be the drivers attitudes here.  Coming from this direction has priority but not all understand this.

The church of St Nicolas, note spelling, was built here in the 14th century, that's the 1300's to you.  This reflects the town's wealth by that date, wool mainly until the 1700's, but I suspect a previous church, possibly a Saxon wooden one, may have stood here before.  I was intrigued by this large memorial.  Church graveyards usually have one or two memorials from long ago for those who were great or thought themselves to be great in the land.  Unfortunately I have no idea who he is, and it will be a he.

  

To be honest this building was a wee bit disappointing, it was dark and gloomy inside in spite of the sunshine and had little going for it from my point of view.  I was not even sure what type of Anglican these were.  Clearly set up as Anglo Catholic but without that smell of candle wax so where are they I wonder?  

There is also a candle burning, usually a Catholic thing this as it indicates the wine and bread, the blood and body of Jesus, are kept nearby.  All very confusing, but not so confusing as my camera.  In attempting to convey the proper shades I went from too light to too yellowish, as shown here.  It's al so confusing, especially when getting tired wandering about.

Anglican churches can surprise me and finding two helmets, one 15th C and one 16th C, was a surprise although later I remembered another church has similar.  The 1500's memorial on the far wall had this grisly feature at the bottom.  The writing was a form of Latin so I ignored it!  Many Scots graveyards from that time also feature such reminders of death.  Cheery lot then...

Cheery indeed, here lie, with broken noses, Justice of the Queens Bench John Southcotte 1585, dressed in court dress, alongside his wife Elizabeth (nee Robbins).  I suppose these grandees must have known they were to be perpetuated thus?  With the reformation rising he might have been Roman Catholic and wished for the priests to pray for his soul and this would have been a good reminder.  Had he been protestant, as he should have been, he was just continuing the fashion of important souls everywhere of not being buried at the back of the graveyard amongst the paupers.

The old Iron forge still exists though I doubt you would get much done here today.  Tastefully redesigned for the discerning rich amongst us it stands in the old part of town and probably was in use in the 20th century still.  

"What," I hear you cry,"Is this all about?"
A crummy picture of a railway station with a vast Maltings in the distance?
In fact we are standing on a hill, Chipping Hill to be exact and this there 'ere was once an Iron Age stockade, the origin of Witham.  Built around 100, possibly a couple of hundred years before that, this was once surrounded by two ridges with a wooden stockade all around the core.  Round huts, that could last two or three hundred years, stood in the middle and people went about their business farming, hunting, fighting and watching football on TV.  During the 19th century the Great Eastern Railway, concentrating on reaching to Ipswich and Norwich did not notice the history as they cut through the small hill in front of them.  
I suggest the Iron age dwellings were better than the present London overspill myself.

With 70F degrees of heat upon me, that's about 21C in foreign, and my jacket weighing me down by now I headed for the bus.  A mere ten minutes brought me the way home once again through the narrow village streets with cars thoughtlessly parked where stone headed locals parked them.  Once again the harvested wheat offered a light golden sheen between the greenery, once again I noted the names in the villages.  Jeffery's Road was named after Jeffery's farm that stood here during the war and possibly for thousands of years before that.  Valentine Way in Silver End commemorated the Valentine Crittall of the metal window company of that name who built the village for his workers in its particular design.  

So with this in mind I ask who was this road named after...?

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