From Darness to LIght as it Were

Here is a picture of a tree.
The sky above is blue, with a hint of cloud and the stream from a passing jet liner.
The grass is green, the sun bright.
I mention this in comparison to the Eurovision Song Contest which is on telly at this very moment.
This however I cannot confirm as my laptop, like me, is musically minded and will not allow it to be turned on.  This laptop has some taste I can tell you.
The difference between light and darkness is seen between the sun filled park and the dark concert hall.  One has bright sunshine with birds singing, the other bright flashing lights with birds singing badly.  One brings contentment the other bribery from that nice Mr Putin.
Sadly having tried again the TV now works on here and I turned on to find an overacting young man with expensive jeans ripped at the knees pouting into the mike and making me reach for the off switch.
I first saw this contest when Pearl Carr & Teddy Johnson won it and that must have been around 1960.  Cliff Richard and Sandie Shaw both featured at one time but rarely if ever did music make an appearance.  Bland songs or exhibitionist crooners certainly appear and at one time the songs made an impression on the pop charts, they never do now.  Indeed it's just horrible.
Years ago in spite of my entreaties I failed to get the family to switch this off in times past so I could watch the football on the other side, for some reason they considered this tripe important and sat entranced discussing the bubblegum music that was laid in front of them.  It appeared to me they enjoyed it and I remain surprised even after all those years.  Even today there are people who hold parties just for this occasion while music lovers everywhere sit watching paint dry and feeling somewhat more satisfied than the party goers.
Why is this contest so popular?
Apart from the fact that almost nobody knows the words of any song and few indeed are ever memorable only the judging and points totals make it interesting for many.  This is incredible considering half of eastern Europe must vote correctly or Russia invades, France will not vote for Anglaterre (They still refuse to call it Britain the racists!), Russia will not vote for Poland nor will they give much support to Ukraine!  Let aone that so many songs follow on quickly one after another that few can remember what went before. They all run into one another like the 'bland leading the bland.'  One day proper musicians rather than the leftovers of Radio 2's late night output might appear and bring something new and interesting to the show.  I suppose this is what is popular today, empty music with no depth, flashing lights, rivalry at the count but little reality.  It speaks for people today.
The Anglaterre attempt has arrived, a two man Boy Band with a drum set each for no apparent reason and quick changing camera images and more flashing lights making me run for the sights far from the blandness and the monotone that is Graham Norton.  I'm off to the park even if the night is dark.

          

Spring

Spring has been springing all day today, I could see it through the museum window this morning.  However I was only out in it for a wee while afterwards as I had to shop in the charity shop for other people and then eat, something I appear to have forgotten to do recently.
Coming home I was amazed at the leaf filled trees, all those different shades of green, and the joyous sound of the many birds heard at this time, chaffinches, blackbirds, thrushes, robins and many things that I know not the name but love the sound.  The sun shining all day made it better as we are so unused to that.
Very tired, my mind is not working well this week, either not enough protien or carbohydrate or the mind is dyng.  I remembered to shave this morning two minutes before I was about to leave, then I forgot some stuff I had to take with me, and when at work I took my laptop but forgot glasses that enabled me to see what I was writing.
I suppose it's just another day...

Technology and I are Strangers

The other day the boss spoke of an attack of 'ransomware' malware.  In his case this beast attacked one or two files on his work computer  and he was advised by the company IT geeks to wipe the hard  drive completely.  This he could do as the IT has copies of all files so nothing was lost but time and effort.
Therefore I decided to obtain a flash drive and store lots of things thereon and be ready with the most important items, or as many as possible, that matter in times of such attack or any other problem.  It seemed good to take all the pictures amassed on many disks and collect them, in better order, on the 'stick.'
So of I totter to the shops to gaze at things very different from when I last gazed at them some time back.  It was clear prices were not as I'd hoped so after thought I went to E-Bay.  Here I found one for £3:99 and within a week it arrived.
Quickly I placed on the 32 GB monster one very large file.
It worked!
I added another.
It didn't!
In the end the files I added disappeared and the original turned into gobbledygook.     
That one lies over there where it landed.
A second, more expensive, one soon arrived.
This one worked, indeed it worked so well, once I had strained my little mind on the instructions, that by late last night I had transferred over a thousand pictures onto the disk with masses of space remaining. 
Marvellous, and feeling very happy I looked into various other parts of this device and noted some things that arrived when i first used the stick wrongly earlier that day.  I deleted them, that should fix it thought I.
When I went for the pictures collected and already on the stick I discovered they had disappeared as I had by mistake deleted everything.
Now I have to start again and once more go through the long arduous job.
The instructions on such technological items ought to have a warning on the top.

"Do not use if you are an idiot!

What's That in the Distance?

During the second world war (1939-1945 in case you missed it) a mistake was made.  Fear of invasion led to the erection of many 'pill boxes' around the land and those in charge of defence made one little error.  A line of 'pill boxes' and other deterrents were strung across southern England in an attempt to stop any approaching army.  When placed in charge of such defences General Alan Brooke quickly caused this to stop and followed the correct procedure, one later used by Field Marshall Edwin Rommell along the Atlantic coast, which was to make every effort to stop an invader on the beaches so they could not secure and establish a 'bridgehead.'  Therefore he turned attention away from inland and beaches everywhere were crowded by builders busily working out their profits while ladling cement onto little round boxes suitable for two or three machine gun armed men. In the distance while passing wearily home from the crowds in Chelmsford's centre I noted this lump in a field.  At first I thought it was hay bales that farmers often pile up, usually however next to farm buildings, and later realised this was one of the old 'pill box' defences.

On Friday after wandering around the churchyard I came past the field and crossed the path well worn by dog walkers toward the concrete box.  It was clearly well used by the younger generation and the original door long removed for other use and a hole large enough for my bulk to enter had been created.
I have wanted to get inside one of these for eons.  Here I was in the smelly, plastic bottle and other crap littered den, plastic not a substance that has been left by the original users.  This was a mess, the concrete worn and corrugated iron sheets peeling from the wall however it was large enough for me to stand upright and I moved into the separate compartment inside where the rubble made waking difficult and darkness made it hazardous.  

 
The field of view was interesting however and would not have been welcomed by the folks living in the houses over there.  Had an invasion occurred most of the Regular Army would have been placed down at the beachhead and places further inland such as this would have possibly been occupied by Territorials or the 'Home Guard, 'Dad's Army.  How would they feel in this dark place lit by candles or oil lamp probably when confronted by a large German force intent on blowing them up?  It would be a case of hanging on as long as possible before they finally shoved a grenade through the hole and finished you off.

This field slopes down towards the River Chelmer, a small narrow stream at this point and I suspect it often overflows in winter almost up to the 'pill boxes.'  I say 'boxes' as I had not noticed until I got near that there was another tucked away at the bottom of the slope.  Crafty indeed and if the enemy came when crops had risen and were still green this box would be completely hidden until too late. 
In spite of weariness I dragged my bulk across.

 
This smiling face was very different possibly reflecting the constantly changing demands of the War Department (WD) something else that gave the builders much to think about, possibly however they thought more about the great time lag before they actually received any money from the WD!
This was cosier, the wall inside, the door has long gone possibly to use as firewood, and this one is almost untouched.  Behind the blast wall visible inside the door there is nothing but five wee windows opening out over the field and over the river behind.  An excellent position but suicide for anyone occupying this if under fire.  This too was tall enough to stand upright in, little litter was found and looks to me as being almost perfect.

This one does give excellent cover for his mate in the first box and with the 'Home Guard' being trained in their use could it be they fired some sort of projectile by accident into their pals box?  Just asking!  That brings to mind the 'Dad's Army' on the island in the Firth of Forth.  Their job was to fire at enemy aircraft heading towards Rosyth Naval Base and Glasgow further on as well as defend Edinburgh.  However some of the shells were large ones and practice consisted of firing dummy shells out to sea.  On one occasions our heroes managed to fire a large dummy shell into a house in Leith causing considerable damage and irritation.  The residents comments have not been recorded.

From the Firth of Forth to the Chelmer!  A pretty little river here but this area has not been built on and I suspect this is because of midwinter flooding.  Good, this is a pleasant area for those walking dogs or just wanting to commune with creation and I hope this remains like this for some time.

An abundance of this was found by the path as I made my way for the bus, driven by a friendly driver.  Is this 'elderberry' I wonder, as you know I'm not good at plant names.  This type of thing flourishes at this time and the councils have learnt to let it stay until some moaning minnie  grumbles about what it is doing to their coats as they pass.  The beasties must love it and so do I.  Not that I actually eat it you understand.

I noticed this house as I waited for the bus.  The design is typical of Essex.  Small semi detached workers cottages once lived in by farmers labourers and the like.  I note this one has been extended at both ends adding a door one the near end and similar at the other but there an extension, possibly a kitchen has grown on also.  Many similar are found in the area but I wonder if the occupants can put aside the Satellite TV for a while to plant potatoes and cut the grass in the garden? 

Crops

On the far side of the church of St Mary with St Leonard (and how did these two get together I ask?) there are fields, those wonderful things full of crops, wildlife and a variety of chemical pesticides.  This one was full of Rapeseed and as I wondered what caused folks to call it that I was taken by the huge swathe of yellow that can be seen here and dotted all over the nation at this time.  The crop is ready for gathering as far as my ignorant eye could tell and soon will be found standing in plastic containers on supermarket shelves waiting to help you burn your dinner.
While there I met a chap dogwalking for a living and we chatted while the black Labrador dropped his ball at our feet and demanded we kicked it for him to chase.  The other two dogs settled down happily until the chap in the picture appeared as his large dog had run off leaving him puffing behind as the dog wished to meet his friends.  How easily that could have got out of hand but they managed to control all four well.  I noted how he kept the dog on the leash as he wandered over the fields.  What great places for dogs these fields are.  My friend at work told me she had a Labrador that always stayed on the path until they entered fields of Rape then he would go mad jumping around in the crop.  This annoyed her as the dog became covered in green sticky stuff that took effort to clean. 

There was an amazing number of wee beasties wandering around under my feet as I walked.  This surprised me as I thought all the chemicals poured into these fields killed the worms and other creatures leaving the fields almost dead.  The butterfly's passed regularly but refusing to pose for my camera, I have several blurred pictures if you wish to see them, and what is more I have never seen the two colourful ones I tried to capture before so that is a pity. 

This astounding building goes back to the 16th century (that's 1500's to you and me) and there is some thought that this may well have been the vicarage at one point for the church.  Though now divided into two houses it is in typical Essex style, the middle section being the original Hall with two wings attached at either end.  Both wings have been developed differently at various times.  The area is dominated by a large Hall which I missed as it was hidden behind trees and this small area has this building and one or two 19th century erections next door and opposite what once was a row of cottages for the workers now renovated into one expensive house.  On the corner stands an empty pub which also dates back possibly to the 16th century. 
However....

This is found between the windows on the far side of the building and appears to proclaim this was once an Inn.  Being just of the main road it is likely this area developed because of the travellers heading north and requiring food and drink and whatever as they did so.  Therefore two pubs would not be unusual but why does there appear to be no information regarding this?  Is there a dirty secret somewhere?

   
On the main road this row of cottages keeps the famous weatherboarding that once dominated many buildings in Essex.  The county was basically a huge forest and in times past Kings did not wish it to be spoilt so they could hunt there.  However Essex folks still managed to live being quite perverse and rebellious by nature and homes when built had to be made of local materials, wood being the most common.  The Hall was probably built of a wooden frame with plaster walls, this would surely be better.  Something about the side of the building attracted me as it spoke of places from my childhood, or maybe I'm just daft.

I love blue flowers and came upon this in a woman's garden as I headed north.  No idea what it's called but you will know.  Clearly in spite of the masses of traffic behind me this woman takes a lot of care of her plants and likes a well stocked garden. 

Friday Off!

The grumpy chauffeur put the vehicle into gear and moved off.  We were on a journey to a far away land on the edge of that place where dragons live. Twenty minutes later, after rushing up to each white line, traffic signal or bus stop the bus let me off at the correct stop, misery guts mumbling to himself as he went.  
I made my way in the warm sunshine (not a phrase found often in these pages) towards the church called St Mary with St Leonard passing as I did so one or two interesting old dwellings one of which had an interesting old builder standing there staring at the scaffolding on which he was supposed to be working.
Like almost all Essex churches this one goes back over a thousand years.  The basic structure has changed greatly since it began but a mass of Roman bricks can be found among the flint filled walls reflecting the huge Roman villa or villas that once stood here.  Such buildings abound round here and I was told that Roman items are constantly being found by farmers and others.  
It is likely that a wooden Saxon church stood here at the time the Normans arrived probably built on the space used for worship of pagan gods before conversion.  Certainly the Normans would change the landscape by erecting strong stone or flint churches to indicate their presence and that they were not merely passing through.  This has been a successful design as a huge number of such churches can be found here.  Even though much renovation occurs through the years the early work is often clear enough to see.
However being on the edge of a big city the church door was firmly shut against passing bandits.  This is a shame as few can afford to have a guard on duty all day and light fingered folks abound.  So I wandered about the large churchyard drawing stares from passing dogwalkers.  The path leads to fields where the animals are taken daily and many were seen wandering about, all on leads in the churchyard.

    
Naturally my eye looks for the white CWGC stones that stand over all war dead men.  One here actually died in 1951 so it will be interesting to know about him if that becomes possible.  Only one woman with a dog passed by almost greeting me with a smile but not quite managing this and I did manage to avoid the chap in red wandering about pointing ostentatiously at the stones and muttering things.  Moving to the other stone evaded the possibility of conversation although this may not have been in his mind.  Sad to say I am not sure what was.  He did drive away the fat pheasant and his maid I noted at the far side and they had vanished by the time I got over there.   

 While many churches possess Roman bricks I have never seen so many as here.  This was just one section and others could be seen marking the end of the original Norman building, now of course extended but leaving the Red bricks in place.  It is thought the Saxons were forced to carry these from some distance away and from this a story grew that originally the church was to be built in one place but dragons would come out at night and move the stones to where the church now sits.  This may be the work of an ancestor of a tabloid journalist who originated it of course.

The abundance of blossom and little flowers, blue and yellow that abound at the moment is brilliant. These do not always come out properly with me as the light fools my camera, it is not used to sunshine, but I love to see these flowers often growing wild by the roadsides around here.  It makes Spring a marvellous sight.  

Having wandered around I took a few pictures and once I have looked again at them you will get to see all 98.
What?...oh! 

Another Election

London decides which lying, worthless, no good becomes the new mayor, replacing the lying, worthless, Boris Johnson a man now intent or removing the lying, worthless David Cameron as Prime minister.
We however have nothing so exciting as we like much of the country get to choose the Police & Crime Commissioner (PCC).  The what?  Yes we don't really know either.  This new post was introduced a while ago by the economic stupidity of the Conservative Party in an effort to save money and improve the Police.  Quite how they worked that one out I know not but I suspect it was merely pandering to tax dodging Tory voters who somehow considered this would save them money.  It didn't.  
On top of the expense we find several such commissioners have had their hand in the till and one or two have been found wanting in other areas also.  This is worrying as they control the police budget and possibly explains where all the cash is going.  These people have strong powers but who can tell if any of them are either strong enough or used properly.  These kind of things are kept from the man in the street in case he realises what is going on!
Anyway we had five worthless candidates looking for a payout today, one from four of the English parties and one independent.  The UKIP man has already been caught out claiming he was once a Labour Party minister, which he was not, and the Independent chap implied cunningly on his spiel that he was an ex-police chief, which he was not, and the others, Conservative, Labour & Lib-Dem just spew out the usual party line indicating how worthless they are as individuals and how tied to the party line they remain.  No independent thought to be found there.
Elections are ongoing in Scotland for the Parliament there, Wales also and Northern Ireland.  In England local councils in 120 places occur as well as the PCCs being chosen by a handful of enthusiasts like me.  Yippee!
I voted after being asked by the girl what my name was even though I had given her the polling card with my name on it.  As the vote is held in the museum hall our boss was in charge and pointed out she has to ask, quite why I know not but maybe some folks don't know who they are?  I asked the girl where on the form was the Scottish Nationalist to be found but she failed to comprehend, the boss just forced me into the voting booth instead.  I placed my cross, added the second on the second row for the second choice who will not win either, and made my weary way through the museum and began work.
I made tea.

The sun is out and ignoring the chill in the wind people are running around dressed for summertime.  This I can tell you is heartwarming as in this part of our island the warm air from the Sahara Desert has at last made its way to us.  Naturally it is not quite so good further north and naturally while people here sit around in the sheltered spots of the park I had been trapped indoors at the museum.  Not that I am one to complain about this of course, that is not my style in spite of it all.  No not me I just got on with it with no murmuring.  
Nothing happened.

Oh yes, did you notice that the USA may soon have that nice Mr Trump as President?

Now tell me you think the world is not nearing the end?

Holiday Monday

Being Bank Holiday Monday the weather was cloudy and a wee bit chill hung in the air so I remained indoors bar a morning wander to Tesco for bread.  As the football season comes to a close this day is used to play some important fixtures and I happened to be indoors long enough to see something of this theatre.  I began by watching Fleetwood attempt vainly to win a 'must win' game at Walsall.  This the failed very well.  As I watched I worked on ironing all those shirts that have been lying around for a while stopping only to eat and then put smelly fluid down the bath plughole to ensure it works correctly.  The joy of life!  

As I moved onto the next pile Brighton and Derby were kicking lumps out of one another for my delight.  The result was interesting for both of them but the strange town of Brighton (London by the Sea depending on what you are looking for) must now beat Middlesborough to progress to the higher division.  Unfortunately Middlesborough have to beat Brighton to do the same thing.  That might be a game worth watching next week.

As I bundled the shirts tidily into the cupboard I began to watch Burnley successfully make promotion a reality as they beat QPR 1-0.  The hot iron was stashed away, the table dumped back into the dusty corner (I must fix that hoover) and suddenly the football was finished.  What to do?

Worry not, Dundee tonight send their local rivals Dundee United down into the lower division so I will soon wander off to watch this game.

Four games in a row, ironing done, bath kind of cleaned, dinner made and would you believe it the rain is hammering down!  Oh yes and my cold has returned, I love my life!

     

 

Sunday Scrawl

Coming home from the Kirk this morning the weather was almost warm so I deviated via the parks.  Here I came across the lads slugging it out each one fancying himself as a star of the future and revealing a body health that shows he is more a hospital patient than star of the future.  I even kicked the ball when it ran out of play and with my left foot I returned it to the ungrateful player.  This ball surprised me as it was so light!  When we played the ball always seemed heavy, and the legal weight is one pound, but this was as light as the cheap plastic balls we used ti use long ago.  The real ball was a brown leather brute that whatever weight it had increased as the game wore on when it gathered water which soaked deep inside and allowed players to rest for many minutes when it crashed of their nut, as I can vouch!
People wandered abroad dressed for summer knowing it was not yet upon us as we are desperate to find one.  Blue flowers filled many areas of parkland, yellow things shone among the grasses and a few beasties roamed the earth seeking whom they could devour.  Somewhat quieter as being a Monday holiday some folks managed to get away.  High above silver darts flew towards stronger sunshine in the Med while the poor amongst us (that's me) glanced enviously upwards.  As I look up now I see clouds forming and the weatherman tells me with a smile it will be wet tomorrow as it's a bank holiday.  Cheers pal, I was seriously considering making the bike work but that will not occur now.

Yesterday also as I returned from shopping for my feathered friends the sun shone brightly and lulled us into a false belief that it can always be this way.  Some hope!  However as both then and today I spent watching football, it is the weekend when many things are decided, I saw little of this bright yellow orb in the sky.  I doubt it noticed.  
Being the first of May this brings out the eejits as this holiday in the UK is now somewhat politically inspired.  The May Day event itself probably goes back to Roman times but in 'England it was seen as a day off for the weary farm workers (I canny spell agricultural labourers) as the ploughing and seeding had been done and everyone gathered round the maypole for dancing, drinking and producing children, sometimes with your wife.  No wonder Cromwell banned it!  The Labour government however introduced the May Day Holiday to coincide with left leaning celebrations worldwide and naturally the grubby Tories have been trying t change it ever since.  In 2011 they wanted to drop it and replace it with a United Kingdom Day in October but got nowhere with that.  Possibly they forgot about it while plotting to put their cash in foreign banks offshore trusts?  Anyway one thing is certain the weather will be bad, it always is.

Pondering on Bikes

TdY

I caught a wee bit of the Tour de Yorkshire today and event that took place in high winds and cold rain.  Judging by the snow atop the distant mountains I suspect the riders met sleet or some snow on their way from Beverley to Settle.  These poor blokes must have spent hours in the saddle up hill and down dale keeping to their team leaders orders and hoping at the end it was all worth it.  

Slippery wet roads and steep hill climbs do not make for fun cycling and I am glad that such opportunities are unavailable here in the hot and warm sun filled south.  (That's satire by the way) 

One thing I like about these races is the view behind the riders.  As they chase down the breakaway mob at speeds of thirty or forty miles an hour, sweating and gnashing teeth as they climb hills in the lowest gear, I find my eyes wandering to the sights around them.  Today we had somewhat bleak Yorkshire moors covered in purple heather and stone walls, hand built, that stretched for miles.  On occasion the helicopter above startled sheep who raced across the fields each accompanied by their new born lambs.  Strange pot marked fields, small tree lined streams and many stone hump backed bridges that must be a delight to the speeding motorist passed by with the occasional isolated farmhouse looking ideal for a TV adaption of one of the Brontes dark and dismal books.  

It crossed my aged mind that these men grappling with the hills ought to slow down and just enjoy the view.  Yes I realise that this is their employment and that the desire to prove yourself capable of cycling hundreds of miles over tough conditions is important to young males but in the end the majority finish in what they call the 'Pelaton' and while satisfied in many ways they have missed watching the country around them.  These international riders have missed the whole of Europe at one time or another.  Head down they have raced through France, Italy, Belgium and Germany never once noting the wildlife or the beauty of their surroundings.  OK they get a wage and are able therefore to pay their bills but bus drivers get a wage and they at least can enjoy the scenery!

These races do make me wish I was out on the bike.  Hopefully the weather improves over the Long Weekend May Bank Holiday and I might get a trundle around the quiet streets.  I will of course require a massage afterwards and any young lass who is free can call.

I stopped off at the museum today to chat with the curator about a question on photographs and met her as she was off out to lunch.  That ended that query, to which she has still not emailed the reply, and this left me with the Friday girls gossiping as they usually do.  As I was asking important questions of great moment I was instructed to carry three boxes of copy paper to the store.  This struck me as interesting as it reveals the harm feminism and the false equality nonsense has brought us to.  In 1915 in an effort to aid the war effort Edinburgh women, though most likely these were lassies from Leith, went out of their way to fill the jobs done by men.  Here we see such delivering coal to a house and not one of them is demanding a man lifts and carries for them.  Today two strapping fit women could not move three boxes as a man was in the vicinity, Tsk!  I blame Germain Greer and all those other middle class women (mostly without men) who's daft unrealistic ideas have ruined womanhood.

I wonder if the massage lady could iron some shirts when she is at it...?

Busy Birds

At this time of the evening the Wood Pigeons begin to roost in the trees across the way, trees with leaves beginning to bud now, the Starlings chase one another round high above and the Blackbird and Thrushes take a high spot and inform the world around that this is their patch and he is watching all that goes on within it. 
These poor birds must be tired.  I read somewhere that a small caterpillar appears at this time, dangling forlornly from all the trees where it emerges, and Blue Tits need 18,000 of these to feed their young!  They, like all the rest, spend all day guzzling as much grub as they can so mum can produce eggs and then both spend the day guarding the nest and feeding the chicks when they emerge.  To to this all these birds are chasing the worms and wee beasties and searching  around for hanging feeders that are found in almost every garden these days.  Some say this actually makes the birds prosper better than when all this was farmland as they find food easier and often better prepared for them.  Whether this is so you can decide but one thing is clear they like the Suet and Mealworm pellets found here as I have to refill them daily.  Tomorrow I must go to the 'PoundShop' where they are found and buy more.  It's costing me more to feed these birds than feed myself!  
Mind you money may be flowing out soon, the Hoover, the cheap Tesco variety, was failing to clean and the burning smell was worrying.  That ended when I removed the long shoelace that was entwined around it but it still fails to work.  Later I will have to clean the whole thing out properly and see if that works, tomorrow is museum day all day, and if it fails a new proper one might be needed.  I did splash out (£4) on new scales as clearly my 30 year old ones could not bear the weight were lying to me.  One day I was heavy, the next I lost lots then it all came back again.  The lass in the shop suggested dancing would lose weight as it had clearly done so for her, maybe she was just trying to pick me up, it failed as the thought nearly flattened me.  Me dance, aye right!

Spring!

How Times Change

One of the threads on the Braintree Facebook page recently has been photographs taken over the town in days of yore.  One chap has cleverly enlarged some sections for us and enabled a better look into the peoples past.
This picture features the town centre (well almost) in 1952 and shows a vastly changed image from any similar one taken today.  Where trees and meadow exist now stands a 'Sainsburys' complete with car park and for the locals so many changes to a town they once knew.  I suspect all of us would see the place we grew up in as vastly different to what is on offer today.  If I returned to Edinburgh I would note the basic layout to be the same but so many things have changed, no different for those who once played on the streets here.  Mind you if they played on the streets they would be in trouble as traffic was busy enough even then, our perception of traffic changes more than the actual traffic in my view.  A mothers fear for her young while ten cars an hour pass along is no better than her fear when hundreds pass.  
The museum is funnily enough sited in the middle of this section of the picture.  Once a small school the four pointed arches above the windows remain but all around them has changed considerably.   The playground and buildings on the other side of the road are now a car park however the market day is still under way so this picture was taken on a Wednesday or Saturday, Wednesday is my guess.
The bus park remains but I suspect the prices have increased.

The world has changed considerably since 1952 when I was still learning to walk.  A war had just been won, rationing was in place, a huge rebuilding work was happening almost everywhere and war damage to the town can be seen in some of the empty spaces.  To be a builder at that time must have been a kind of heaven.  In 1951 Harold MacMillan was given the task of creating three million homes and he did so by 1953 and later went on to become Prime Minister.  He would be better thaan the money grubbing one we have today.  MacMillan it must be said was well to the left of David Cameron, indeed he was further to the left of many in the Labour party today as he had a concern for the lower orders and wished to offer better conditions, unlike those who appear to merely line their pockets today.  
Yes Jeremy Hunt I mean you! 
Those who grew up in the fifties have a different outlook to those who grew up in later decades. The wealth amassed by the west during the decades of peace have driven us mad.  Wealth brings a strange security that vanishes like the mist as it did in 2008 when the world collapsed.  However the belief that we ought to be wealthy and have whatever we want remains and people will still spend what they have not got or use credit to get it.  Sometimes I'm glad I'm poor although if anyone has a spare million I will accept it.
What will the town, now 40,000 strong, be like in another fifty years?   Still the same basic layout and ... then what?

Bored, Tired Ramblings

One of the many tasks I had to do today included swapping things from one laptop to another to create space.  Tomorrow I have decided to visit Tesco and see if they have a large flash drive and I will download a lot of stuff just in case things go wrong with the brute.  My boss had a 'ransomware attack' on his work machine and luckily it only affected one or two places but it still was dangerous.  The IT people have of course everything backed up and stopped the virus spreading.  However he had to wipe the drive to remove the beast!  Ransom ware is unbeatable otherwise.  This however was not my problem I was merely editing stuff.  One of the joys was to discover old pictures unseen since the last time I had to download pictures.  Not all were worth it of course, many were deleted today that ought never have happened in the first place but it was enjoyable.  The difficulty began when one laptop would not let me format discs so I was swapping thngs to the other to place on discs and this went well.  The CD and DVD discs on the TV recorder do not format properly and whether this is cheap Tesco fault or something else I know not. 
This was much more fun than noting a burning smell from the hoover that was failing to remove the dust from the floor, looks like money might need to be spent again.  It cannot be two years old yet my floor has beaten it, mind you it was probably made in a sweat shop in China by badly paid labourers who had little reason to care. 

The world continues on its way.  Much fuss over the EU and some dead singer drowning out the problems in Iraq that have dropped from the news sheets recently.  Wars sell but not when a singer dies.  Many are worrying that secret plans have been made to assassinate celebrities, my worry is that not enarly enough of them will be assassinated!  Coincidence turned into a drama sells papers and fills social media.  Maybe they will turn on the media barons and improve that I wonder?

Saturday Night Relax

Saturday night sees me sitting happily in a silent building with a remarkably quiet street outside.  I suspect most folks are on their way or have arrived at their Saturday evening watering hole and the rest are numbing their mind watching mind numbing Saturday evening TV.
I rest after my week of toil.  Working Tuesday morn was fine however Wednesday saw me halfway through cleaning the oven when I was called into the museum.  Thursday I was there all day happily chatting to the folks who came for the event and took ages to leave as they were having fun.  Friday I spent recovering from my exhaustion.  I am not used to work I have found.  Once upon a time I worked all the hours required now I faint at the mention of labour.  Today however I have done little although I did visit the veg man and stop at the museum to pay for the quiz night.  Naturally I had to hang around as the boss was almost alone in the place, the two staff having booked other events today and only the apprentice was in also.  Another 3/4 of an hour on the time sheet.  At least the boss was kind enough to pay my £5 for the quiz night as a reward for my services.  I kept saying 'No, I'll pay' as I put my wallet back in my pocket but he insisted.  I however had to ring it through the till as he could not find the 'Quiz' button!
The quiz started badly.  I arrived a few minutes before 7:30 to discover it started at 7.  I blame her for telling me lies!  However I got there as the first question was to be put and the team was at the door nearby so I slipped in and slipped out again to gather a glass of red wine.
Three rounds of questions then a break for red wine, cheese and biscuits followed by another three rounds.  The usual formula, each table with four to six people arguing over the answers and knocking back red wine. 
I had brought several quiz books into the shop and the girls in the team had been studying them somewhat as had I.  I watched 'Eggheads' and listened to 'Brain of Britain' and together the table was full of people covering many years knowledge of the world.
We were rubbish!
Each question made us think and our thoughts at each question suddenly stopped!  We dried up and when the answers came we knew we ought to have known so many more than we did.  The mind is active watching quizzes on TV but not when confronted with the question yourself.  Even the history ones we got wrong although on several occasions I had the right answer and they would not accept it.  Example, 'How many seats in the House of Commons?'  '650.' said I, though I suggested it may be 635.  They chose 635 and the answer was 650!  Bah!  The red wine appeared to be filled up occasionally I noticed but not by whom.  
We made our way through the rounds noting the leaders were the curators team.  Someone, I know not who, started to spread a dirty lie that she had been looking through the answers in her office.  A lie I must state she loudly denied, but that may be the wine talking.  Quite why she hit me I don't know. 
At the break there was more wine and as I have been banned from cheese and biscuits they placed a platter full on each table right under my nose.  Thanks a bunch.  He next to me added cakes also to the pile, al;so banned and I was keen to keep the loss of half a stone, about 8 pounds continuing.
Drinking red wine possibly slowed our/my answers but the second half of the evening was hard.  The answers were not coming and the questions were often about subjects none of use cared for.  Quizzes must cover everything but we don't sadly.  
The end came and all we won was a free pencil because the name of the team (I forget what 'VIP' stood for in their interpretation) was the best.  The pencil offered was one of a large bundle found during a clear out and dated from 1986.  We were one short and I lost out.  Mind you I have the others in the shop!
We did not receive the prize of a doughnut each which went to the team with least points (The Friends of the Museum with hundreds of years of knowledge between them) neither did we get a bookmark for being second.  The winners - the curators team, and she I have to add did not cheat - got a jar of expensive fancy jam each.  
Then we all went home, I draining the red wine bottle and slipping out into the rain.
I noticed two things this morning.  One was I had eaten little but put the 8 pounds back on and the second was the old dear from the 'Friends of the Museum' who lay in my bed. At least she made breakfast.
I wonder who she was?

 

Blue Sky?

In spite of the cutting east wind the sun shone brightly all day today giving a fair impersonation of Spring.  I left the museum just after four having been called in while attempting to clean the oven.  What a relief I thought!  So the rest of the oven can get clean round about July now, maybe.  This was my day of odd jobs, sinks, loo, oven and a dozen little things were all lined up waiting for a woman to do them and none have shown so far.  This means I must do them but hark the museum calls all day tomorrow (Thursday to you) as I am on duty in the morning and the Crittalls reunion is in the afternoon.  Hopefully dozens will come to gossip and reminisce during the afternoon, quietly as I will be sleeping at the desk.  
Friday sees me back again as instead of watching St Johnstone playing Aberdeen I have been dragged into a quiz team at the museum (at £5 a go I add!) on Friday night!  I have not been out on a Friday night for about oh, twenty years!  I might need a guide to get back home.  This will disturb my routine something awful and I may not survive.  Oh I feel queasy thinking about it.