Mug!

It was when I saw this dingy mug sitting among the bric-a-brac of the house that all the women in my past came to mind.  I don't know why?
It's funny how little things set of the memories is it not?  For instance the fragrance of various flowers brings memories, one takes me back to primary schooldays, another to walking in certain streets.  Such strong fragrance is not easily forgotten, that is why women pay so much for that perfume bottle.  The women I meet appear to prefer motor oil or coal gas but that's another story. Wet grass reminds me of the joy of football when face down in the mud I revealed to the world my fantastic goalkeeping abilities.  Pipe tobacco reminds me of my dad sitting smoking his 'Condor' pipe tobacco with it's distinctive aroma on the box he made into a toolbox come seat in his little garden, my that seems o long ago, a different world.
A photograph is of course always an easy reminder of past events and awful haircuts.  Such things can be used to embarrass people today as well as remind them of people long gone or good times once had.  Memory of my leg break reminds me of God's goodness to me at the time, all those incidents that followed on from that.  Nine, or was it eight, pins in my leg, that is a reminder that is always with me!  
Not all memories are good of course, I avoid the multitude of 'cancer' adverts and reports that appear to fill TV and radio time, since my sister died that time I have never been keen to see these.  Those who endured war often keep memento's of one sort or another, the diary written at the time yet never opened today, the bullet removed from the leg, the dreams that never leave.  
Memory is strange in some ways and we control it by deliberately forgetting certain things which we wish not to heed, occasionally however it slips into the mind.  The good thing is this happens also with good memories, days of sunshine and happiness, days of blue skies, green grass and much enjoyment.  I hope we have lots of those memories.

Talking of blue skies we had one of these above us for much of the day.  Not that I saw it as I spent most of the day slumped over this or lying asleep in my pit.  The real summer is drawing rapidly to a close and the usual suspects are at this moment gathering strength in mid-Atlantic and preparing to drop lots of rain upon us over the weekend. 
I may be asleep for another day or two at this rate...

Old Tech But Working Tech

A short time ago I suddenly realised a favourite radio programme was about to start on Radio 4.  This is the type of programme I usually wish to keep so off I run to the tape cassette recorder (ask mum kids) and search for a free tape.  
For many years I used to have a double tape deck and was able to make tapes according to my own desire, those days sadly have passed and few have any sort of cassette player with which to listen.  Now it appears we much insert disc into deck and record from the TV (which also has radio) and keep a disc.  However two problems arise here, one is the inability to play around mixing and matching with these and the other my discs fail to work.  Yet another of the hundred and one things that need attention in this house.
However if it works I will be able to improve my collection of tapes and this is a must as I am sick of hearing those I made 20 years ago!  They themselves are now historical!  For many years I have had to do without this tape machine and when I hear them now it takes me back sometimes more than 20 years.  Tapes from the Open University, BBC anniversaries of D-Day, war programmes, historical recordings, various UK towns, all sorts of things lie there.  However I find so few programmes to record today and this machine does not do the 'DAB' system so many more channels are lost to me which is sad.  
I particularly like short 15 min programmes on a variety of subjects but being there to record them, no timer on this either, does make things irksome.  of course I could mention the buzzing on the reception that will not desist no matter where we go but I will leave that aside as I can ignore that, usually.  Too many drama's, book for women, boring or irrelevant stuff on radio these days.  Hopefully things will improve.  

 

Another Day...

Oh to be a Crow!
Or is it a Rook...?
Anyway I had a great day at the museum.  We were not overworked, the kids being back at school led to large periods of quietness an experience we have not been used to.  However some folks came, the odd child also, and there were once again those asking questions, that is what I love. 
Add to this having work dumped upon me regarding the Great War, he asked about one man and I went straight to him, (aint I good?) and tonight and tomorrow I will have to research a bit more for him.  Also a woman with Zeppelin questions, all as museums ought to be.
All was going swimmingly and then a discussion online tonight went awry.  Possibly jumping in when tired is not the best thing, even when right, but there you go.  Now this has ruined my good mood, even though I was right, and I wish I was that Crow (Rook) as he never gets ruffled.  Indeed he lords it over all other creatures in the park and happily wanders at a distance from people, treating them with disdain.  Sounds right for me.
Ah well, another day tomorrow and another disaster awaits. 

More Boring Sunday

Dead Boring Saturday

An early walk in the sun to the shop for yesterdays bread summed up the day.  
Nothing happened after this.
I was not up to anything, I did nothing, no football of consequence was available, nothing happened.
Boring indeed.
My ears hurt, I am half deaf in one ear as the jaw bones rub the other and swell, I feel rough, I am half asleep all day, and in short life goes on as always.

 
Now the rain has returned.
Summer is over, the nights are closing in, cloud covers the earth, rain falls.
I might go back to my latest book, "Cheerfulness and How to Get Shot of it!"

Rough

Last Thursday

This sky, taken yesterday, returned today.  I didn't see it!
I was sitting indoors teaching the temp assistant how to work the till, greet people and make sure they didn't cheat her.  "I chat up the old women, you chat up the old men," I said, "Just don't chat up the young men as they will believe you!"  
So having spent a delightful and quite busy day I then proceeded to Tesco to forget to buy the things on the list I left on the bunker!  Grrrr!
Home I trotted to search for information for those who had enquired, poor lass could not help there, and as the Internet at work was down until late afternoon nothing could be done, so I did some when I returned.  
Looking at maps of the area from before the war and soon afterwards shows something of the war damage and something of how many houses were demolished in later years by a council not listening to the people.  Things are different now but at that time councils just did not listen to anyone.   Fun looking at maps, until I fell asleep...
Still, this is my last regular Thursday, from today I will have more time to myself, to do all the museum stuff lying on this laptop!  

Morning Bike

The old railway line was becoming busy as I made my way back from my exercise run this morning.  The delight in watching men struggle up the slope knowing that they have a days work ahead of them and are rushing to be at work by eight o'clock leaves me quite satisfied.  Very satisfied that I no longer require to do this.  Better to travel to work this way mind rather than on a commuter bus or train where you have no control whatsoever over the running of the transport.  Nothing but punctures and women with dogs can annoy you as you race to work.  For me of course the women and dogs often mean a few words exchanged, Fifi keen to rub her head into my knee although the dog was less keen for some reason, and then a few words with a retired man and his close to retirement dog, 'seen it done it, just lets walk and feed me' type dog, and all this while trundling slowly down the slope and not struggling upwards.

Six thirty and I was heading into the old railway line.  The mist was dissipating quickly from the dip in the land as the sun rose majestically (what does that mean exactly?) and soared into the sky.  I tried to stop it and told it to wait until I was in position but it did not listen to me.  As Jenny noted fields like this, somewhat enlarged in recent times, contain no birds.  Those that exist do so in the areas off the old railway where trees and shrubs have arisen since the trains ceased forty years ago and wildlife has increased.  The Rangers control the area well and yet if we relied on the farmers much would be lost.  It must be said that many farmers do cut corners when harvesting and allow larger areas at the ends of many fields to go wild.  Some have dropped fields altogether, possibly for EU money, and encouraged wildlife in this manner.  The man here just wants to sell this farm and plant 3500 houses but the council said 'NO!'  Good for them, this is the wee towns one real country area, a link between town and village with no reason to bring the two together except money making.  Three area on the other side of town will have housing, more appropriate in my view but not popular with all.

This was supposed to be an interesting image of the sun hitting the mist as it hung over the trees.  No matter what I did, no matter what I fiddled with nothing like the actual picture I saw arrived in my camera.  Still it's OK as an image.  It does however make the pylons look like they are the stars of one of the 'Star Wars' type movies, pylons ready to march across the earth dominating the land, although some would say they already do that.  Mind you if they did not march those who object could not communicate their objections as they would have no electric!

One thing I love about this time of year is the bright early morns when I can get the bike up the old railway and take a picture or two, even if they don't work out right.  The sheer brightness of the sun over the fields brought to mind those who had to work those fields in the days of long ago.  The harvest would be cut by man and scythe, heaped by women into stalks and only late in the 19th century did a man, usually a grumpy self important one from the north, arrive with a machine and thresh the crop for the farms.  I did read an item about this that Thomas Hardy put into one of his books.  I got the impression he had read it also and made use of it but I could be wrong.  Even with the machine to help this was hard work from morning till night and the pay was not good.  After the harvest there comes a time to plough and sow and start again all the time watching the sky as country folks know the weather required watching all the time.  The sky hinted at slight red this morning as I rose and I suspect the old agricultural labourers would tell what the day held even from that, though they would be working by six in the morning to tell the truth.  Hard work all day for what?  Possibly seven shillings a week?  Maybe more for the ploughman or cowman, but nothing at all when the crop fails.  One of the first acts of the Cameron government was to drop the protection given to farm hands, not that many exist today.  Country people vote Conservative and they are important to the Party.   

This old fashioned type of signpost has been removed in some areas but Essex keeps them and I think this right.  There are enough modern tin signs on main roads and these add a wee bit of character to the area.  One, standing in town since long before the war had become a wreck yet the council replaced it with the same type of sign, not a modern one.  Good for them I say!

The 'Crix Green Mission' looks like a hall grafted onto the back of a typical Essex farmhands house.  The hall roof has a Dutch inclination to it but I am afraid as this Hamlet comprises a mere 13 houses it does not have much use.  Services led by St Michael's occur but how often I know not, and the hall is used during elections for voting purposes.  At one time it must have had a full time member who know ll the people round about, and there would be many more farmhands then, but today while the house is occupied the hall clearly does not have a full time staff today.  Imagine living in a  Hamlet of 13 houses, most of whom are now quite pricey.

Nothing for it but to run back down the line and head for breakfast.  My knees have had enough exercise this week but none tomorrow as I am on my last Thursday at the museum, I think.  With local kids back at school on Thursday I suspect we will be quiet for a change with only normal people arriving.  I may have to just sit there quietly all day and read a book....fat chance!

For those who don't understand 'Brexit' and such stuff, here are a couple of Irish Comedians to explain things in a simple and clear manner, sort off. 

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Routine Tuesday

 

As expected no-one cared that I was dying after my bike ride.  i did however have to listen to their holiday stories, look at their pictures and eat the Danish (Jam tart) Pastry provided even though I explained about my diet.  I had to listen to worries re the kids event, which were not worries at all as those kids who attended enjoyed it immensely, sell £50 worth of sale goods and survive on one cup of tea only as Peggy ran off to listen to the holiday report and left me on my own.  In spite of this, and the strange creaking from my knees when I stood up, the morning went well bar forgetting to buy ice cream for the girls on my way back.  They will remember that!  

 Al Jazeera

It is interesting to note how little coverage has been given to the recent bomb in the Yemen that has killed between 60-70 people.  The war, between Saudi Arabia and Iran via Yemen, has killed almost 7000 that we know off and has displaced around 2.5 million people.  

Still, they are only Arabs innit?

had such numbers been killed by IS in Belgium or Italy they media would be full of this 'outrage,' crowds would gather in the streets waving the nations flag, that flag would appear on facebook posts and 'fellow feeling' would fill the air.

However it is just that Arab war, innit?

The media, well most of it anyway, are not too keen to talk about this war.  After all we get billions from the Saudi's for the aircraft we sell them let alone the bombs they drop on Shia rebels in the region.  We don't want them to buy French arms do we?  Imagine if the bombs were French, even the left in this country might be less interested!  However the right wing media, which means most of them, are not keen on upsetting the present Conservative government, any cash brought in might help the workers buy those papers.  

This bomb killed mostly those training to fight IS and the rebels, other bombs, from both sides, have killed anyone who was in the way, mostly civilians.  The war in Syria gets lots of mention, the war in Yemen is forgotten.  Maybe Syria would be forgotten if we sold Assad arms?   What?...oh!

Black Notley Churchyard

I took a mad turn this morning.  No, not the usual type, a real mad turn.  Having ridden the bike on both Saturday and Sunday mornings I decided at 6:30 this Bank Holiday morning to ride the rusting beast up to Black Notley, see some countryside and explore.  It was indeed a mad turn for someone as unused to cycling as I, someone as patently unfit as I, and someone who forgot how steep the hill is!   Who put that hill on Notley Road?  What was the point of that? I am convinced it wasn't there last time I came this way.  However, wheezing like an old man I made it to the top, continued without falling off, turned up Buck Hill, struggled up there and dragged myself over the road into the churchyard.  I considered just lying down as I wondered if it was worth trying to go back home again!
Silence, only the grouse grumbling as I passed them by (Grousing grouse?) a few birds flapping in the distance and an occasional car or van hurrying past on the now distant road.  Sun, silence and occasional birdsong, sounds good to me.  

St Peter & St Paul, Black Notley was begun in the early 1100's by some Norman overlord and it is situated next to Bocking Hall.  This would be built by the new Lord of the Manor at the same time as the church building, although it is possible the Saxons had already created a wooden church on the site.  This solid edifice would impress the peasants in their rough homes.  Interestingly Castle Hedingham is a Norman Mott & Bailey castle built by the De Vere's, clearly to impress and possibly suggesting a fear of rebellion.  What made this Lord happy to build his Hall here without a castle defence?  Possibly his early house was fortified I expect however later works have lost the original building and the present one appears to date from the 15th century but has obviously been upgraded as and when.  The church would have been run by him and his man would have led the services, as long as he obeyed.  Such arrangements were found all over England, much less so in Scotland and is one reason for so many empty redundant English churches today.

As you would expect that by seven in the morning I was looking for gravestones, military ones, which I found and the grave of the family killed by Zeppelin bomb in 1916, which I failed to find.  One grave that cannot be missed however is that belonging to John Ray, the father of natural history.  Born just along the road from the church Joy proved to be an intelligent young man and eventually spent time in Cambridge University.  From his childhood he and his mother, a herbalist, much valued in the days when medicine was so limited, had walked the area and John learned much about the plant life from her at that time.  He then continued this study, classifying plants and researching them.  In time he became a 'fellow' at Cambridge lecturing in Greek, Maths & Humanity.  However he lost his job because he held on to the truths of scripture rather than follow the 'flow' of the day and spent time travelling in Europe and the British Isles during which time his collection of specimens, both botanical and zoological grew.   Much of this learning was expounded in his 1691 book (available at the museum shop for a reasonable fee) "The wisdom of God Manifested in the works of the creation."  His many such works had a great influence on all who followed from him.  Not bad from a wee lad who's father was the village Blacksmith!

There are four WW2 graves in the yard but I doubt these are Black Notley people.  It is likely one of those found there is however the nearby hospital took in many during the war and not all made it back to their homes.  The CWGC site is down and Ancestry does not appear to know this man so I can tell nothing from his stone regarding how he came to be here.  I hope his family got to know, and Glasgow is a long way from here.

The church underwent some degree of renovation in the past and those involved were keen to make their mark in 1680.  Putting a date on a building seems a good idea but for the first fifty years it looks a bit daft.  Such dates only really matter several hundred years down the line.

On the night of March 31st 1916 Braintree suffered heavily. That night Kapitanleutnant Alois Böcker brought his airship ‘Zeppelin L 14’ to Braintree, arriving around eleven in the evening. He dropped a bomb which landed on Number 19 Coronation Avenue. Inside Ann Herbert was killed while asleep in the back bedroom. Her daughter and two children survived even though they crashed down from the first floor to the ground. Next door the chimney collapsed into the house killing the sleeping Denningtons and their three year old niece Ella, while the entire street suffered concussion damage from the explosion. (Taken with permission from 'Into Battle' available at the Museum shop)
The Denningtons and their niece were buried in Black Notley but I could not identify the grave.  
The small graveyard reflects much of the village.  Most down the years would be buried here and the population was small, with few being able to afford gravestones the vast majority over the years would have a paupers grave, somewhere at the back of the church grounds.  Most churchyards would be the same but I wonder how many ended up in those unmarked graves? 

The modern manner of commemoration for those cremated is rather more caring I note.  Many churchyards now include such a remembrance, cheaper for those who have lost someone and a place to remember also.

Trying to be clever I attempted to picture the John Ray grave through the doorway but failed miserably, twice!  The window is a little like my own, it needs cleaning!  On the way out a sound heard in the distance came very close.  A young couple walking their three big gray dogs came past.  The dogs were keen to have me for breakfast but being well controlled we bade one another good morning, the dogs rather too loudly for me, and I hastened the other way.

At this time of the year there are many taking the early morning balloon flights across the county.  Two were seen today, offering Champagne Breakfasts and occasional tree top hitting.  With Harvest having been mostly completed there are plenty of emergency landing grounds available if required.

There will be a heck of a bang if he hits those wires!

This is the house John Ray lived in while writing his many books and other works.  It is just as well he lived here as it says 'John Ray Cottage' on the gate outside so he had little choice in the matter.  His studies and his writing continued in spite of ill health and having a family to bring up.  The road outside, then a mere dirt track in summer and a mud bath in winter, now offers the usual local madmen plenty of opportunity to kill themselves as they race past at all hours of the day and night.  One reason I went there today was the Bank Holiday which meant few were out on the roads bar those who had to be.  A nice little cottage still in spite of the traffic, thankfully hidden by a tree or two, but probably costing a buyer around half a million today.  

I suspect the small garden in John's day was full of flowers and herbs recommended by his mother.  These would be alongside vegetables to help feed the family.  John did have two other famous local men as friends, Benjamin Allen and Samuel Dale, both local worthies who participated in the running of the town and other organisations.  One told the story of how he went to London and while there one of his patients went to the other for medical advice, he died!  On hearing if this the first thoughtfully said "It served him right for not waiting for me."  Ah friends, who needs them?

John Ray showing himself to the world.  This type of decoration is very much an Essex thing.  It has been done elsewhere but a great many aged houses in the locale have a variety of such decoration. 

I came across this on the way home, what an annoying sign to offer a cyclist who is wondering if his legs can get him home.  He is not too concerned about breaking the speed limit, he fears he may be breaking his bones or his bike chain first.  30 MPH indeed, I canny do that downhill on a ski slope!

The Sunday Post

Yesterday, in a fit of early morning zeal, I got the bike out and cycled around for half an hour.  This was yet another attempt to lose weight and get some degree of fitness.  Today, I cycled the five minutes to church, ten minutes coming back against the wind and traffic, and see myself as ready for a long cycling adventure tomorrow, if the wind drops, it's quite strong at the moment.
Yes indeed I might rise early and race slowly up the old railway until my knees give way.  That should not take long.  The advantage is the Bank Holiday Weekend, this means many people are away and the last dregs of the school holidays begin to come to an end.  This week the schools return to be filled with happy cheery children, and miserable adolescents.  At the museum we have one more week of the kids, two days actually, then it is the grandparents and parents coming in to see what they missed when they came with the kids.  
As I intend to drop one day and work only Tuesday mornings for a while, so I can do the other things for the museum that lie awaiting on this computer, i will also be able to take more time on the bike and on the bus pass.  When the holidays are over I can get a holiday.  Or at least a day out on the bus!  How I need to be out and about a wee bit more, my mind needs refreshment and my body needs the following rest.  Already this week sees an improvement as I eat better and sleep more.  

I do, as some remember, like portraits.  This one here dates from the 1850's and I winder if it is from the USA?  Something about it speaks of east coast wealth, maybe that's just me.   Possibly because of the somewhat long exposure time the lady in the picture cannot avoid offering us a face full of stress.  However I note what looks like two wedding rings on her finger and wonder if she has been bumping off her men?  The outfit looks black, it is of course impossible to tell from the picture what the colour of the dress actually happens to be, but the dark beads round the neck, the crucifix and the general demeanor speaks of sad times.  Her dark bracelets also add to the doom laden image.
She appears to be no more than thirty years of age and it is perfectly possible in the 1850's to lose two husbands in short time, and if in the USA possibly through gunfire of course!  Her men may have gone west to make their fortune and failed to return, it is likely disease carried them away. 
Poor lass, if my guesswork is correct she will have had enough problems and need no more.  I wonder who she was, I wonder if she is just a model, I wonder if her husbands were rich and I wonder where did the money go....?  

SatLaffs