Saturday 18th June 2011 – YOU MAY REMEMBER …

… that I had a working day of 32 hours and 30 minutes yesterday bringing my Brian James Trailer and this Takeuchi mini-digger back from the UK, and it was late when I finally made it home. It goes without saying therefor that Saturday morning didn’t exist and it was 13:00 when I finally woke up. And it will be no surprise to anyone that I have done … errr … almost badger all today.

But I did manage to find the time – and the energy – this afternoon emptying Caliburn and then reloading him with everything that I need for this exhibition that I’m doing tomorrow round at Francois’ place at Barrot.

Meanwhile, here at home we seem to have had something of a disaster. I can’t find anything in the garden as plants and weeds have overgrown everything, and a tree has fallen down and flattened half my crops. That’s not good news at all.

And in other sad news, I learnt today that Caroline’s cat Bigsy has crossed the Rainbow Bridge. Bigsy was 17 and yet had been in excellent health up until quite recently. But she had rapidly deteriorated this last few weeks and when I saw her the other day she was really poorly and it was only a matter of time. But at least she went in her own time and her own place, amongst friends.

Friday 17th June 2011 – THAT WAS A LONG …

… day!

I was reading a posting about a teacher friend of mine who had done an 8-hour day on a Saturday and how she was annoyed. My working day starting yesterday was 32 hours and 32 minutes, which is more than a teacher works in a week.

It was about 20:45 when I reached Liz and Terry’s this evening, and my day was far from over.

Caliburn, Strawberry Moose, the Brian James Trailer and the Takeuchi mini-digger crawled off the train at Calais as dawn was breaking, and without hanging about, we hit the road straight away.

copulatum expensium, as we Pompeiians say. I’m going the shortest, most direct route home and if I’m going to be fleeced on the péage, that’s rather a shame. Towing a trailer, I have to pay the same as an artic.

“Keep away from Paris” was the obvious plan. I’m right on the limit of what I can tow with this outfit and I don’t want any police interaction or any confrontation with crazy urban motorists.

There’s a motorway from Calais via St Quentin and Reims as far as the far side of Troyes, and then over the Burgundy mountains to the motorway at Nevers, with only the centre of Auxerre to worry about.

And that’s the way that I took – a nice leisurely saunter where I sometimes even reached the trailer-towing 90kph speed limit.

The motorway exit at Troyes is … errr … complicated, with a series of roundabouts where the camber is all wrong for the unbalanced rig that I’m driving. We had a couple of interesting moments.

And I almost came a cropper at the Intermarché on the edge of town – I’d forgotten about the height barrier and the jib of the digger. But I could enter the car park via the petrol station. I had a very late lunch and fuelled up Caliburn – he’s been quite thirsty, and no surprise!

The mountains were certainly exciting, as anyone who has driven between Auxerre and Nevers will tell you, and I was relieved to hit the motorway again. With no policemen bothering me, I could drift on slowly through the early evening down to Sauret-Beserve.

And was I glad to be back? I’d worked hard over the 20 or so days that I’d been away and covered a lot of ground.

Now I’m ready for a rest.

-1

Thursday 16th June 2011 – THIS IS GOING TO BE A LONG …

… day today.

There I was, sitting in the library reading my book, almost close to lunchtime, and my phone rang. Sure enough, the money has been received and I can no go and rescue the mini-digger.

So just like Janet in Tam Lin, off to Kettering Screwfix went I, as fast as go could me, for my final order or stuff.

Round the corner to Daventry and Brian James Trailers for my new trailer. And here I was in luck. I should have picked it up a week ago but it wasn’t ready. But here I am, with a trailer and a free gift of two heavy duty ratchet straps.

I”ll need those for holding the digger onto the trailer – in fact I’d just bought a couple at Screwfix but the more the merrier and these are certainly good stuff – better than anything I’ve ever had.

Stuck to 90 kph with the trailer now, so I wasn’t as quick to Droitwich as I might have been. Terry had ordered a huge ladder from the ladder company here so I heaved that on the roof rack. There was space.

Of course, it was Birmingham and the M6/M5 interchange in the rush hour, wasn’t it? The last thing that I wanted. But it couldn’t be helped. “Hier stehe ich – ich kann nicht anders” as Martin Luther was once famously heard to say.

It was 20:10 when I arrived at Accrington via Bacup, and by 20:30 I was on the road again.

But it wasn’t easy, to say the least.

The trailer is a lightweight car transporter so it only has two aluminium channels for the car wheels, and the track is far too wide for the digger.

We improvised with a heavy-duty scaffolding plank but the weight was far too offset to the outside.

While driving round right-hand bends was a dream, driving round left-hand bends was interesting to say the least, with the left-hand trailer wheels lifting.

It was a slow drive. But at least Terry’s big ladder was safe.

We then had to find my booking reference to amend the booking to add on the trailer but I couldn’t find that either. After 15 minutes of fruitless searching on Keele Services and a phone call to Liz, I realised that I would never make it if I didn’t get a wiggle on.

I abandoned that idea at that point, best foot forward, and trust in the Lord. We’ll confront the issue when it arises

After an exciting drive down the M6,M1,M25 and M20, being fleeced something rotten at the Dartford Crossing, I made it Folkestone with just 10 minutes to spare.

They noticed the trailer of course (they would have been blind not to) and so that set me back another £78 – not to mention the fuel that Caliburn was consuming and the blasted Dartford Crossing.

I curled up in a corner of Caliburn’s cab. it’s late, I’m tired and I’ve not done half the trip yet.

Wednesday 15th June 2011 – I HAD A POLICE …

… errr … interaction this evening.

There I was, clambering into the back of Caliburn this evening to find something, and a police car pulled up alongside me.

One of Cambridge’s finest rolled down the window – “is this your vehicle?”
“As a matter of fact it is” I replied.
So he rolled up his window and drove away.

How did he know that I was telling the truth? And what would he have done if I had said that it wasn’t?

But never mind the police interaction – I’ve also had some bad news.

The guy with the digger in Baacup phoned. The money hasn’t appeared in his bank account yet. Obviously I can’t go to pick up the digger so I shall have to hang round here for a while longer.

Not that it worries me – I’m deeply engrossed in The War in the Air and I wouldn’t care if I had to stay here for another 5 years until I finish reading it – as long as it keeps warm.

No use going to the Services on the M10 this evening if they are closed. I went to the big Tesco’s just outside the town and here I got into trouble.

I’ve … errr … misplaced my portable hard drive (that’s possibly where all of the missing photos went to) and the hard drive on the laptop is pretty full. And there’s nothing that I can delete off it quite yet.

Tesco’s has a good electrical and electronic section but it’s upstairs – and that’s all chained off. But no-one was watching so I hopped over the chains.

Nevertheless, I was accosted by the manager on the way down and he had quite a moan at me. But by then it was too late and a new portable hard drive was in my sweaty little mitt. So now I’m fixed up.

And I hope that this blasted money is there tomorrow morning. My trip back is tomorrow night (well, Friday early morning) and I want to be on it. I don’t really want to loiter around here any longer than I have to.

I’ll be stuck here for the weekend if I don’t pick my trailer up.

Tuesday 14th June 2011 – I LEFT YOU …

… last night as I was pulling up outside the Library at Cambridge University.

Today, I was battling, and battling unsuccessfully as you might expect, with one of the most classic examples of incestuous Academia that you would ever have the misfortune to meet.

There’s a really big car park at the University Library, as I knew. What I didn’t know is that it’s locked during closing hours. Parking in the street outside is controlled during working hours, but it’s a nice wide verge with plenty of free spaces and in a quiet area.

The plan would be therefore that I would park up for the night outside in the street, wake up really early, and be queueing in Caliburn at the gate to the car park when they came to unlock it.

Here’s Strawberry Moose queueing up to enter the library.

He was quite keen to teach a couple of courses at the University until I explained to him that the word is Lecturers, not Lechers.

Rather like the time that he tried to charter a plane to come home from Canada – but changed his mind when they told him that it was spelt L-E-A-Rjet.

So in I walked to the University library.

And I had a reason to be here too. Someone in Pionsat had heard of a story that an Eton teacher by the name of William Johnson Cory had visited the Auvergne and made a reference to the Chateau de Pionsat in one of his letters.

Before setting out, I had done some research into the aforementioned and discovered that on his death in 1892 he had bequeathed his letters to the Cambridge University library.

So here I had come to read them.

But I was failing to take into account the incestuous nature of Academia at the UK’s top-drawer University.

Yes, his papers are here. But no, I can’t see them.
“Why not?”
“Are you from the University?”
“No I’m not”
“Well, you need to have a letter from someone connected with the University validating your research project”
“But I’ve just come from France – I don’t know anyone here.”
“Well we can’t let you consult our papers until a researcher connected with our own University has had the opportunity to examine them”
“You mean that no-one from the University has examined them yet?”
“That’s right”
“And they’ve been here since 1892?”
“Yes”.

No wonder that mainstream Academia has such a poor reputation when the Universities are prepared to sit upon piles of unrecorded papers until the cows come home rather than let researchers from outside their own sphere of control have a peek.

Who knows WHAT treasures these Universities might be sitting on? When you read in some of these journals things like “a rare 7th-Century poem by Caedmon has just been discovered in an Oxbridge Library” you can understand why, now.

But I had nothing better to do and nowhere else to go, so I raided the University library just the same, seeing as I was in.

And here I hit the jackpot.

On the shelves was an original version of all of the volumes of Sir Walter Raleigh (not him, the other one)’s The War in the Air – totally original and un-defaced, even with all of the maps and plates. And I’ve never seen that before.

This was the book commissioned by the British Government as the Official History of the Royal Flying Corps (later the RAF) from its inception until the end of World War i.

I’ve been trying to find a copy of all of the volumes but the only ones that I have ever seen have had their maps and photograph plates removed, and the books are of much less interest without those.

But here I was in my element.

Later that evening I went for a drive to the outskirts of town where I cooked a meal (not practical to do that in the street right outside the Library) in a layby.

Having eaten, I then went on to a Motorway Service Area on the M10 – quite a drive and after all of that, the internet was down.

So I came back to my my spec outside the Library and had an early night.

Monday 13th June 2011 – CALIBURN …

… went for a swim today.

We were out and about this afternoon in Northamptonshire meandering pretty aimlessly here and there in the general direction of Cambridge and we saw a sign for “Ford”.

With a sign like that of course we had to go for a look and Caliburn really fancied a swim. And he quite enjoyed it too

Last night I found a good spec on the A6 near Ambergate in Derbyshire. This was where I bedded down and I had the Sleep of the Dead.

Not for long though. The arrival of the Roach Coach at 07:30 and the noise that it made as it installed tself soon woke me up.

Once I’d summoned up the courage to heave myself out of my stinking pit and grab a coffee from the aforementioned, I moved on to Ilkeston.

Here at Vehicle Wiring Products I bought a pile of 6mm “red” and “black” cable and a pile of other bits and pieces for back home. 6mm because it has to handle high current at 12 volt so I need to avoid voltage drop as much as I can.

And red and black cable?

I’m heavily into colour coding, especially in electrical wiring. It saves all kinds of unpleasantness. I’m trying to keep to blue and brown for 230-volt so I buy as much of that as I can. But for 12 volt, it’s red and black. No mistake with the colours.

The polarity of red and black speaks for itself, but with brown and blue, the bRown goes to the right to where the fuse is in a British plug, so it’s positive. The bLue goes to the left where there’s no fuse, so it’s negative.

And that’s why I use British plugs and sockets, not European ones. British plugs are fused and so that avoids all kinds of embarrassment if I’ve made a mistake with the wiring.

After that, I moved myself on to the M1 where I stopped at Leicester Forest East for a shower, a shave and to wash my clothes. High time that I did all of the aforementioned seeing as I’d been living in a van for a fortnight. Even I was starting to notice.

And I dunno what was going on at Donington Park last weekend but the services were crawling with Goths and the like. Had there been a rock concert down the road?

Next stop was Corby and Radio Spares where I bought a few more bits and pieces. It was a good job that I had forgotten to buy the 7-core trailer wire at Vehicle Wiring Products because it was on special offer at Radio Spares.

25 metres for £25 which is a bargain, and it was a desperate shame that there was only one roll left.

On my way to Northampton I took a detour to visit the town of Geddington (which was where Caliburn went for his swim)

Several claims to fame, has Geddington, including the most magnificent Eleanor’s Cross.

The Eleanor concerned was Eleanor of Castille, wife of King Edward I “LOngshanks”. She died in Lincoln on 28 November 1290, and her body was embalmed and brought to London for burial in Westminster Abbey.

The funeral cortège was an elaborate affair and took 12 days to reach Westminster Abbey.

At each place where the coffin rested, an elaborate cross was subsequently erected.

The Eleanor Cross at Geddington is considered by many to be the best of the three that remain, but even so, it is believed that there was an upper part which is now missing.

But I haven’t finished yet. There’s the church to see.

And the St Mary Magdalene Church is extremely special because it has every grounds to consider itself as one of the oldest churches in the UK (although there are a couple known to be older).

I’m not talking early crusader, or Norman Conquest either, but quite possibly 250 years older than that.

Churches in the immediate post-Roman days were generally built of wood – that was because they art of building in stone had left with the Romans.

And that’s why there aren’t any still in existence today. I certainly can’t think of one, except maybe the church in Greensted, Essex, where bits of a 7th-Century wooden church were discovered in a later wooden church..

It was only gradually that the technique of stone-building was reintroduced to the UK and dates from the late Saxon period.

And sure enough, if you look at the end wall here, you’ll see the primitive stonework over the arch, and the building lines where more-modern stonework starts when the church was enlarged.

Taylor and Taylor, in their Anglo-Saxon Architecture date the primitive stonework to the period 800-950.

While others might disagree with the dating, one thing upon which all of the experts agree is that it is certainly Saxon stonework, and that’s what it looks like to me too.

At Northampton I had to go shopping for Terry, so Ipicked up Terry’s orders from Screwfix, Toolstation and a couple of other places and then took the opportunity of doing some food shopping at the Morrison’s there.

By now it was early evening and so I headed off to Cambridge where I tracked down the University library.

That’s my port of call for tomorrow

And I almost forgot to tell you about the bridge too, didn’t I?

Geddington is situated on the River Ise (the river that rises in the field where the Battle of Naseby was fought in 1645) and is a very good fording place (as you have already seen, thanks to Caliburn).

This is where the cortège of Eleanor of Castille presumably crossed.

But with the improved stone-building techniques of post-Conquest England, stone bridges were constructed and fords fell out of fashion.

The one here was built some time round about 1250 and is what’s known as a “pack-horse bridge” – with refuges for pedestrians as you can see.

It was rebuilt in 1784 – at least, that’s a date that’s carved onto some of the more-modern stonework – and was listed as a Grade II listed building on 25 February 1957.

It’s in excellent condition and it’s quite safe for Caliburn to drive over. But he thought that it would be much more fun to swim the river

-2

Sunday 12th June 2011 – WE’VE DONE IT NOW!

Regular readers of this rubbish will recall that Terry and I have been hunting for the last couple of years for a decent mini-digger. We’ve made all kinds of enquiries but the end result always was that we could never find anything that we wanted.

In the end we decided that we would have to pay more than we wanted and buy something newer, but that never worked either.

That is, until today.

I went to Bacup to see a digger, a 2007 Takeuchi and while it was dearer than we were ever expecting to pay, in the end we’ve bitten the bullet and gone for it, faute de mieux – in the absence of anything better.

The cash will be transferred over on Monday and I’m picking it up on Wednesday night after I collect my new trailer.

Did I tell you about that?

And so last night after dropping off Caroline I had a pleasant drive around the back of Manchester, Rawtenstall, Rossendale and all of that.

I found a nice quiet lay-by in the pitch-dark somewhere up on the moors between Burnley and Bacup and settled down for a nice, quiet sleep.

And a nice quiet sleep it was too. I didn’t feel a thing.

Pretty windswept it was too up on this hilltop, as I was to discover when I finally awoke.

And that’s hardly surprising, given the glorious view. That was Burnley down there in the valley on the previous photo and on this photo, there’s a wind farm for you to admire.

So a nice drive on into Bacup where I met this digger guy, who took me to see it in Accrington where it was digging out someone’s footings.

Once I’d recovered from the shock of committing myself to spending all of this money, I went to Preston – or rather, the Tickled Trout in Salmesbury – to see Sandra.

We had a really good chat about one thing and another and It’s nice to learn that in OUSA – the Open University Students Association – things are carrying on just as I left them.

Chaos, panic, disorder – it’s all still going on.

This evening I’m on the M1 at Tibshelf Services. I’m moving off in a minute to find somewhere to bed down for the night as I need to be in Ilkeston early in the morning.

-1

Saturday 11th June 2011 – HIS NIBS IS AT IT AGAIN!

Here you can see him dipping into his Auntie Caroline’s cod and chips.

To pass the evening, I went to see Caroline again.

We ended up going out to the chippy (not half as good as a traditional Belgian fritkot), I have to admit, and that was where His Nibs joined in the (af)fray.

But Caroline’s cat Bigsy is very poorly and she might not pull through. I wanted to make sure that I saw her and gave her a stroke.

So after many vicissitudes, not the least of which was parking up for the night in a zone where there was no mobile phone signal (something that only I can do), I finally made contact with whatsername and, sure enough, my wallet was there.

That was just as well as I would shudder to have to think what I would have had to do had it not been there.

She was making breakfast for the family (it was quite early) I was also invited to eat there and that really put an end to my journey to Ilkeston and Vehicle Wiring Products, as they would have been closed by the time I would have arrived.

Instead I went to DK Motorcycles in Newcastle-under-Lyme.

As well as selling road-going machines the company also imports classic motorcycles from the USA. They arrive in all states of repair and I always like to go along if I can to see what’s arrived.

They had a few mint Hondas, including a couple of rare 1970s 350-fours as well as a pile of other stuff as well that was fit for renovation, including a 95%-complete Honda 160.

As an aside, I passed my motorcycle test on a Honda 160 belonging to my mate Ray Stigter.

Many of the machines that arrive there are only suitable to be broken up for spares and I always go to chat to the guys there because many of you might not know that I own probably one of the rarest of all Japanese motocycles – a CB92 “Benly” from 1961.

It’s basically complete and after we assembled it we even had it running after a fashion, but that was back in 1974 and that is a long time ago.

It desperately needs an overhaul but spares for it are impossible to find now – hence the regular visits to DK Motorcycles.

They might one day have one in that is only fit for dismantling but to date the guys in there freely admit that this is one motorcycle that they have never ever seen and don’t ever reckon that they will do either.

One regular feature of this blog in its previous incarnation was something to do with poorly-sited solar panels.

But we gave that up when we were overwhelmed with them. Some of these solar panel salesmen have no shame of course.

We’ve seen some dreadful ones on our travels in the past but this must be pretty near the bottom of the pile.

It’s all about the salesman’s income and nothing whatever to do with the reputation of the product that he’s selling

Lunch was at Waitrose in Sandbach and then I went to B&Q in Crewe to see if they had the doors that I need for my house. My house is dark and gloomy due to the small windows and if I’m putting partition walls in, this will cut the light down further.

What I need is some dirt-cheap glass-panelled doors and finding them in France is impossible. However B&Q does a nice cheap line in exactly what I want.

The door that I fitted into the attic came from there and you can see what a good job it does as well – hence a requirement for another half-dozen to match.

B&Q came up trumps in more ways than one.

they had enough in stock.
they had some that were only 650mm instead of 750mm and that’s what I need for the bathroom and the office.
with my trade card I had almost £100 off the retail price – £240 for 6 instead of about £335 or so.

When you think about it … “you are always thinking about it” – ed … that’s just 20 weeks of rental on my mailbox paid off in one swell foop.

You can see why it’s important to have a UK address if I am buying stuff over here.

Now Caroline and I are having a coffee on Sandbach Services. In a short while I’ll be dropping her off at home and making my way in the general direction of Bacup.

I have to go to see a digger there tomorrow morning.

-3

Friday 10th June 2011 – I FINALLY MADE …

… it down this afternoon to see this boss of The One That Got Away who had been hankering after seeing me.

And the reason for my visit was quickly unveiled.

It seems that his company has won a contract to supply and fit out a new village hall on the Staffordshire Moorlands, and it all has to be off-grid.

Off-grid is not something in which they have any expertise and so it seems that I’ve been drafted in on this project as well.

I’m not sure what the payment might be, but “panels at cost” is a good inducement for me to become involved in it, if nothing else.

We then spent until some ridiculous time this morning catching up on all the old times that we knew when she worked for me as a kid back in the 1980s, and discussed everything that has happened to us since we last met quite a long time ago.

It was lovely to see her again after all of this time and I was sorry to leave.

Terry rang me up as well during the day. He wants me to go to look at a digger in Accrington or Bacup or somewhere like that tomorrow, and then I need to be in Ilkeston as well to pick up some stuff from Vehicle Wiring Products.

But I’m not going anywhere until I’m reunited with my wallet, which I hope is still at whatsername’s. If it isn’t I am going to be having more than just a few problems.

-8

Thursday 9th June 2011 – DESPITE THE EXCITEMENT …

… of the last few days, it became even more exciting that that today.

We started off the day with a phone call from The One That Got Away. It appeared that her boss was not in a position to see me and so could I come on Friday?

That led to a hectic change of plans and a jaunt down to Machynlleth in Wales to find out why Dulas had not replied to my request for a quotation. I’m certainly boxing the compass, and my stay is far from over.

And basically the answer to why I’ve had no reply is that the sales staff couldn’t be bothered to do so.

The saleswoman who would ordinarily deal with me is away in Germany at a conference, and when that happens, the whole organisation grinds to a halt.

I was told that she has her phone switched off – such a gift of foresight by the warehouse manager being probably the most astonishing part of our discussion. If he can see as far as Germany from where he was sitting then he’s clearly in the wrong job.

And if he is possessed of the facilities of such long sight, it is clearly there to compensate him for his lack of near-sighted vision because he could not see anything within the warehouse that he manages, in order to identify the products that he has in stock.

Never mind painting by numbers – he does warehouse-managing by numbers, so it seems. What about that for stock control?

He also does a pretty good job at prevarication and obfuscation but of course I’ve been here before (and I have, too) and seen his type before. I’ve also dealt with his type before and I don’t think that he will forget my visit to his office in a hurry.

Nevertheless, the upshot of this is that I still don’t have my product.

And what stuck in my mind more than anything about this visit is that despite all of my effort to drive to Machynlleth on a fruitless expedition caused by the “couldn’t care less” attitude of Dulas towards potential customers whose pockets are bulging with the folding stuff ready to spend at the first opportunity – a round trip of 304 kilometres, don’t forget – the manager did not even have the common courtesy or decency to offer me a cup of coffee.

CAT – the Centre for Alternative Technology – up the road, is equally as useless when it comes to recommending another supplier. For an organisation whose job it is to promote the use and development of Renewable Energy, they came up with nothing at all.

It really is astonishing but what with the estate agents the other day not being bothered to sell product to a client and with Dulas today not being bothered to sell a product to a client either, is it really any wonder that the UK is going down the pan?

Here we have a client with a fair bit of cash in his pocket (houses aren’t cheap, and neither are solar panels) and it’s too much trouble for British companies to deal with them.

I spent the afternoon in Barmouth on the seafront and that was pleasant as well – it was a gorgeous day.

And then as my way back home took me past Nina’s, I called in for a long chat. After all, it is years since I saw her.

She and Marion are in the throes of modernisation and we all ended up having quite a discussion about solar energy. It seems that I’m now co-opted onto the modernisation panel and a solar water and solar photovoltaic project will follow in early course.

Always assuming that I can find an eager supplier willing to divest me of some money.

And the photos?

I took quite a few today but when I came to download them, the memory card was bare. What has happened there?

Wednesday 8th June 2011 – HAVING LEFT DAVE’S …

… last night at … errr … 05:30 this morning in broad daylight, I found a suitable place to park up.

We’re on top on a mountain on the Alston Moor somewhere not too far away from Nenthead.

And when I finally awoke … errr … this afternoon, I had some fun with some locals who were admiring Caliburn’s signwriting with consternation.
“Good place for a dozen wind turbines, isn’t it?”

The speed at which they climbed into their car and shot off, presumably to launch another NIMBY campaign against wind farms, was impressive to say the least.

Say what you like about these NIMBY environmentalists. They couldn’t care less about more nuclear powers stations being built, as long as they are in someone else’s back yard.

Having had a quick coffee, I drove for ages (and it was ages too) through all of the horse-drawn caravans littering the road between Middleton and Kirkby Lonsdale.

You have no idea – or maybe you can guess – how much I hate these after having to negotiate an endless stream of them on some of the narrowest and most winding A-roads in the country.

Horses out of control “driven” by drivers who don’t have a clue. They need tests and drivers’ licences – they need road tax and a minimum speed limit.

And – even more importantly – they need to keep a substantial distance between themselves and the one o front instead of bunching up in impassable lines of 10 and 12 outfits

Failing that, they can p155 off into a field and get out of everyone’s feet. There are plenty of bridlepaths and cartways where they can mill about at their leisure out of everyone else’s way.

I finally arrived in Middlewich just about in time to rescue Percy Penguin from work and give her my fullest attention. But it was touch and go, I’ll tell you.

Now I’m on Sandbach Services and I’m sodding off in a minute to find a place to sleep. Its [gulp] 02:31 and I have a lot to do tomorrow.

-1

Tuesday 7th June 2011 – HAVING LEFT DAVE’S …

… last night at something silly, I made it as far as Berwick-on-Tweed where I spent the night.

There’s a car pool place on the edge of town with a couple of discreet corners ideal for having a kip, and ideal for having a few other things too by the looks of it. Next morning, I even found a pair of tights on the ground.

We’ve been here before so we don’t have a photo but it’s a nice clean place with a washroom so there’s everything that you need to hand.

Once I’d organised myself properly I crossed the border into Scotland and headed off down the A1 in the direction of Edinburgh. On the by-pass, I kept my eyes peeled and eventually found the road that I needed.

Where I’ve come to is Rosslyn Chapel, which is situated in the village of … errr … Roslin, south of Edinburgh. The village of Rosslyn is somewhere else – New Zealand or the USA or somewhere.

Everyone will know the story behind Rosslyn Chapel because you’ve all read the Da Vinci Code and/or seen the film, and this is where the action takes place

But it’s not (necessarily) that which has brought me here.

As I said yesterday, something that cropped up in Canada last October was what had brought me here.

There have long been claims that Henry I Sinclair, Earl of Orkney, Baron of Roslin and ancestor of the current owner of the Chapel, had visited North America 100 years before Columbus.

Of course, this is quite possible.

He held his title of Earl of Orkney in allegiance to King Haakon VI of Norway, gifted on 2 August 1379.
He is known to have been in Norway on many occasions
Norway certainly knew of the existence of the old Norse colonies in Greenland
In 1347 a boat loaded with timber from “Markland” (almost certainly the North American coast) made an error of navigation and fetched up in Iceland rather than Greenland. This would have inevitably become known to the Norwegians (Iceland was a Norwegian possession at the time)
Sinclair was said to be an intrepid seaman known for his curiosity

And from there we move into the realm of speculation.

Just because something is quite possible, that is far from saying that it is probable, or even likely.

Many people do however make such a claim and when we were in Nova Scotia last October we came across his alleged landing site. It’s no part of my story to pass any opinion on this. I’m having no part in any argument.

But the fervent supporters of the Sinclair North American landings pointed out that Rosslyn Chapel contains many carvings that can only be plants found only in North America and unknown in Europe until the 16th Century.

They say that seeing as how the Chapel was built in 1456 (which, incidentally is long after Sinclair’s death), it could only be because Sinclair had seen them on his travels.

Why I had come here was to see the carvings and persuade the authorities to allow me to photograph them – permission is not often given.

But I nearly didn’t go in at all now. There have been considerable complaints about the Chapel “cashing in” on the popularity of the Da Vinci Code and when they told me how much the admission would be, I nearly passed out on the spot.

Seeing me standing there open-mouthed, the woman on the cash desk reassured me “but it’s half-price for senior citizens”.

I wasn’t sure whether to thump her or to storm out in disgust but the parsimonist inside me got the better of my emotions. But I’m afraid my ego has touched rock-bottom now and I’m inconsolable.

It’s no wonder that the Chapel is undergoing repair. With the money that they must be raking in, they could cover the place in gold plate.

However, it’s an ill-wind that doesn’t blow anyone any good. I spent quite some time chatting to a tour guide about the Templars and Sinclair and all of this, and the upshot was that I was invited into the office to see the Director.

I imagine that people claiming to be serious visitors have to “pass the test” – something that happened to me in the USA in 1999 when I ended up sitting behind the controls in the cockpit of Lindbergh’s The Spirit of St Louis – or, at least, the famous “Warner Brothers” replica B159.

I was permitted to take a couple of photographs “for private study” and not for publication so unfortunately you can’t see them, and I was allowed to peruse the private papers of the Chapel.

Furthermore, the curator will photocopy all of those that I found interesting and e-mail them to me, and so I certainly had my money’s worth there.

And as for the photos?

The Director of the museum told me that people overlook the fact that the interior of the chapel was redesigned in the 1860s and its possible that the designs could date from then. The original plans for the Chapel have never been discovered.
Others have said that the designs are imply abstract forms
And me? Well, I’ve seen more convincing and realistic maize and pineapple carvings elsewhere

And don’t forget. Sinclair had been to Norway – and doubtless other parts of the Norwegian Empire too. Greenland was part of the Norwegian Empire. Travellers from Greenland had been to both North America and Iceland – which was part of the Norwegian Empire.

No-one – apart from Yours Truly of course – has ever mentioned the possibility that what Sinclair might have seen had been brought back from North America by a Greenlander and Sinclair had seen it elsewhere.

But before we leave the site, let me first remind you of my theory about churches and castles.

Regular readers of this rubbish will recall that I’ve drawn your attention … "on many occasions" – ed … to the superb “defensive” site of many churches, such as this one here.

I’ve said … "at great length" – ed … that in my opinion, these sites started out as fortress sites with a small chapel inside the fortress.

As the need for fortresses declined and as the population in the vicinity grew in number, the size of the fortress would decline and the church would become more important

Rosslyn Chapel is actually built on the site of what was formerly a fortified site

And as for the myths and legends? Make up your own mind. There’s been enough nonsense written about this place without me adding to it.

From Roslin I drove all the way back to Hexham to see how Dave was doing with his rewrite of the text for the pages of his website.

Regular readers of this rubbish will recall my magnum opus about Riccarton Junction.

One thing that I was keen to do was to see the junction where the line for Hawick left the Newcastle-Carlisle line and the remains of the famous bridge over the Tyne.

That’s not too far from Hexham as it happens, and a lovely walk along the banks of the Tyne so with Dave acting as guide and navigator, off we set.

It didn’t take too long to track it down, but unfortunately, all traces of the railway junction have long-been obliterated.

That’s hardly a surprise since the line was closed in 1958.

After many vicissitudes we were eventually able to scramble up onto one of the piers where I was able to take several photos of the remains of the piers.

It wasn’t easy to see how they had been built, seeing as they were all swathed in sheaves of debris brought down by the river in spate.

You can imagine the force of the water that can roar down here when you see all of this

As you might (or might not) know, the death knell for the railway sounded on 6th August 1948, when this part of the country was hit by a devastating storm and torrential rain that lasted for 6 days.

A 7-foot tidal wave of water swept down the River Whiteadder, the River Tweed was recorded as being 17 feet above its usual water level

Much of the railway infrastructure was badly damaged – the East Coast main line between London and Ednburgh was so badly damaged that it took 11 weeks before it could reopen.

The Tyne did not escape and the Border Counties Bridge – which was never a particularly stable bridge, was badly damaged. Engineers affected a temporary repair but this really WAS only temporary and didn’t last too long.

And with the volume of traffic on the railway, which was never substantial, it was decided that it was not cost-effective to rebuild it.

Passenger services were withdrawn in 1956 but some kind of desultory freight service struggled on for a couple of years.

One thing that I noticed lying scattered around the site were all kinds of remains of cast iron.

Many railway bridges of this period were built out of cast-iron and we’ve seen plenty of remains on our travels.

All of this looks to me very much like what I would expect to see had I been looking for the remains of cast-iron bridge columns.And when I find the time, I’ll tell you how they were assembled

The rails were removed, the junction was erased, and the bridge was demolished.

And there are still several lumps of masonry lying around that could well have come from the bridge.

This looks pretty much like railway-bridge brickwork to me

Back at Dave’s house we started to proof-read Dave’s text that he had now finished but one thing led to another and with bouncing a few ideas around we ended up totally rewriting it.

Not that I am complaining by any means, but it was 05:30 and broad daylight when I finally left there.

Another task all done and dusted.

Monday 6th June 2011 – THIS WAS A HECTIC …

… day, and there have been quite a few of those just recently, haven’t there?

I think that I left you at Washington Services the last night, and from there I went on to Whitburn to spend the night by the seaside.

Unfortunately my little hidey-hole there was otherwise occupied so I had to search elsewhere.

There’s a nice cul-de-sac just across the road from the promenade that is a useful place to park up.

And that’s where I should have been last night – somewhere out by that headland over there near Whitburn.

But I’m not complaining at all about where I ended up. It was nice and quiet – much better than I anticipated.

This an area that I know very well from when I used to spend a lot of time up there in a different life, and so I took the opportunity to go for a wander round.

It’s what early mornings are for, isn’t it? Especially when those early mornings are as nice as this one.

A little dull at first but the sun soon came out and I had a lovely walk along the promenade.

And I was swamped with telephone calls too – it seems that word has spread about that I’m over here right now and I seem to be in great demand.

I walked down almost as far as Sunderland – only about a mile or so, it has to be said.

Sunderland is a port at the mouth of the River Wear and the entrance – the Roker Pier – is protected by a beautiful Victorian construction that despite everything that the modern world can chuck at it, still retains most of its contemporary charm.

No ships though. It’s been … ohhh … a whole week since I’ve seen a ship! That’s no good!

This statue here is known as Bede’s Cross. It commemorates the life of the aforementioned and was designed by Charles Clement Hodges and erected in 1904.

He was born sometime around 672 just down the road in the town of Wearmouth and died in 732.

He was a monk at the Abbeys of Monkwearmouth and Jarrow and his claim to fame is that he wrote a book An Ecclesiastical History of the English People of which several copies survive today.

This is the book which provides most of the History of England from the departure of the Romans until his death.

This afternoon I drove down to the big ASDA on the old Boldon Colliery site.

Here, Strawberry Moose met up with his sister and her friend Natasha and they had quite a chat about their adventures and what had happened to them since they last met.

While we were there I took the opportunity to return to her her coat and another one or two things that be had brought back with him

Another opportunity that I took was to have a little wander around the shop. Amongst the exciting things that I found were some 75-watt inverters for just £7:99. They had three in the shop.

After I left, there were none. Handy little things, those.

It’s not finished yet – not by a long chalk.

Later in the evening saw me in Hexham, round at at Dave’s. He needed his Detective Agency website bringing up-to-date and so that was another task that had been on my list of things to do.

We had a really good chat about this and that for quite a while.

And despite the lateness of the hour, I still had things to do. I have to be on my way to Edinburgh.

Well, Rosslyn actually. Something about my trip to Canada in 2010 had come up.

Sunday 5th June 2011 – HERE’S AN INTERESTING …

… notice.

I was always under the impression that the 21st Century was going to be all about doing away with sexual and gender discrimination, and promoting equality and all of this lark.

So what part in modern society does a “gender-discriminative” event such as this have to play?

And not only that, it is a blatant ageist-discriminatory event and even worse, it discriminates against single parents who are prevented by this ageism from bringing along their children – but yet no childcare or creche facilities are on offer.

The Sheffield City Council and its employees should hang their heads in shame. An event such as this has no place in modern society

This was photographed at one of my habitual haunts – the Forestry Commission car park at the Ladybower Reservoir. That was where I spent Saturday night.

We’ve been here on many occasions in the past as it is one of my favourite spots. And you’ve been lucky enough to have seen the photographs in winter when there have been no leaves on the trees to obscure the view.

But I’ve known this area for much longer than that. It was here that the 1971-72 North West Schools Orienteering Championships took place and Yours Truly finished 18th – and no, there were many more than 18 entrants.

Having dropped Caroline off last night, I come over the top via Axe Edge, Buxton and Castleton to arrive here. A beautiful drive in the dark and even better in the daylight.

It was quite late by the time that I arrived so I treated myself to a lie-in (well, it IS Sunday) and then off to Towsure in Sheffield for some gas and some other assorted bits and pieces.

One thing that I wanted was a new mounting for the jockey wheel on the Sankey trailer. I want to tart that up a little this year. It’s showing its age

This afternoon I went to Morley, just off the M62 to meet Helena, one of my friends from school. Something else for which Social Media has a lot to answer.

We haven’t seen each other in … oohhh … 38 years I suppose; so we had a lot of news to catch up on over a coffee or two.

Of course Strawberry Moose took the moment to have a photo opportunity like he does. He’s quite a hound for publicity.

Right now I’m at the Motorway Services at Washington on the M1 not too far from Newcastle-upon-Tyne heading to the seaside at Whitburn where I’ll be staying the night if all goes well.

Tomorrow His Nibs is being reunited with his sister. It’s been a good few weeks since they have seen each other and he has some things to give her.

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Saturday 4th June 2011 – HAVING ORGANISED …

… most things around here, I’m moving on tonight.

Last night I slept in comfort and tranquility on the fishermen’s car part at the back of Moston near Sandbach. If there’s no night-fishing going on, that can be a nice peaceful spot, as indeed it was last night.

There was tons of work to attend to today – all kinds of paperwork that I had been letting go which needed bringing up-to-date.

There was also some stuff that I needed to check up with on the internet and so that involved removing myself down to Sandbach Services, for whose assistance I have long been grateful.

For lunch I nipped into the supermarket in Sandbach – a Waitrose, would you believe – to pick up some stuff and then went and found a quiet corner in which to eat it.

Later that afternoon I went back into Crewe. It was probably 20 years or something like that since I’ve seen Cassie, Joanie and Malcolm. it was only meant to be a brief one-hour visit but we had so much to say that it was gone 20:00 by the time I left.

That took me round to Congleton and Caroline’s to rescue Strawberry Moose after all of his adventures in North America, and we all went out for a pizza, a coffee and a good chat too.

Dropping Caroline off, I hit the road for the North.

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EPIC HALL

The Poisoned Pen (or Poisoned Chalice, more like) – or my relentless struggle against reality