Date: Thursday 3rd September 2020
Location: Ellesmere
Since it poured with rain for much of yesterday I decided to change my midweek day off to today and spent most of Wednesday writing. The only essential task I had was food shopping and going to the bank to withdraw money for my pitch rent, I didn’t want to be handing it to Sean halfway through the month as I did in August. Plus I needed a decent walk. I set off later than I intended, the combined result of a deep seated hatred with rushing around and general indolence. Having done my preliminary checks, everything cleared away, computer unplugged and placed somewhere safe, EHU plug removed from the socket to avoid any chance of Hymie being spun round in circles and wrapping him around a random farm building I turned the key in the ignition and ........ nothing. What the bloody hell!? I was officially a ‘stick in the mud’ - well almost. After a bit of reversing and driving back and forth I managed to get Hymie free. He was extremely relieved - he,s been well and truly stuck on two separate occasions now (Spray House Farm in Derbyshire and outside Alex’s house in Huddersfield and he does not like it). I am cutting the word ‘free’ quite a bit of slack here in that I was able to move forward but only in the sense of towing a removal van with its brakes on. We got about three yards before getting bogged down during a you-turn (which is like an ordinary turn but a lot messier). Fortunately Sean saw me struggling and came over to offer his assistance. This time round required both heaving and straining (a result of running to the bog before trying to liberate Hymie) and Seans pushing and shouting directions. It was touch and go but at least this time we got onto the main road..... .....and straight into the path of a group of people sat in a car pulling the most ridiculous faces (I was driving straight towards them so I got a good look at their faces)
Two minutes along the road and I pass the field where a car had skidded off the road and hit a tree. Still there! How long has it been? 2-3 weeks since I stopped to see if a lady required any help with dealing with a bruised tree and battered automobile? I would have thought it would have been towed away long before now.
Quiet road as is usual around here and time to think of my Russian friends (but not too deeply - I don’t want to be skidding off the road further along; though having said that it would be a good excuse to pitch up for the night somewhere “I’m so sorry that I skidded off the main road right next to your EHU and toilet facilities”
Arrived at Aldi blah blah blah (don’t think you want to hear about how I wandered around getting groceries) then looked for somewhere in the area I could stop for lunch and take myself for walkies! I looked briefly on Google maps at a place called ‘Jubilee Park’ but couldn’t find a postcode for it and the only Jubilee Park showing up on my sat-nav was 43 miles away! Maybe it had only just been named and details weren’t online yet. Time to initiate plan B, drive to Ellesmere for a look round and walk around the other half of the mere that I missed out on last time. Good start! the car park was almost empty and the parking meter was out of order. A Freeby! Yee Haaaaaa! And so into Ellesmere contemplating what I could buy with the £2.30p I had just saved.
ELLESMERE
Well I’ll say one thing for it, the place has character (for those people who enjoy wandering through a quarter mile or so of streets lined with cardboard boxes). As you know my home town is Rotherham which is not a good starting point for someone with an ironic sense of humour going about criticising towns and cities. “You’re from where!? Rotherham!!! And you’re criticising our town!? *f**k off!” On the other hand it’s also quite brilliant “I’m from Rotherham and have now built up an immunity to criticism and harsh words so YOU “f**k off!”
It’s not that I found Ellesmere dull as such it’s just that the points of interest are few and far between. Most places I found intriguing and worthy of pointing my camera at were public houses. It’s pretty much the same everywhere in Britain; most of the housing, the dwelling places that are the focus of endless special memories where children are born and raised, move on from to raise their own families and eventually die are as dull as a library full of Hoover manuals yet the places that legitimately serve drinks consisting of 95% water and deal the worlds two most lethal drugs across the counter i.e. *alcohol & tobacco often in front of children are among some of the most diverse and picturesque buildings in the country.
* Oh yes they are - when you take into account the fact that both of them affect many other people besides the user e.g. passive smoking, alcohol fuelled violence, causing distress to families and so on.
Digression warning (sorry it's how my mind works)
It’s worth noting that, while living in Rotherham, I found many places where the term ‘Public House’ took on a whole new meaning (usually in very low income communities where if you owned a car that was less than thirty years old you were considered a snob and you would get your windows put through on a regular basis). I once went out with a girl called *Elizabeth who lived in the Dalton area of Rotherham. On one occasion we called at her sister Irene’s house who lived round the corner. I had been in there not five minutes when the front door opened and in walked a haggard looking lady “just poppin ‘t beeroff luv mi owd man wants mi ‘t gerrim ‘is beer in” and with that she toddled through the living room, into the kitchen and out the back door. Amazement must have shown on my face because Irene said “we don’t stand on ceremony ere love” “well” I thought “we don’t stand on ceremony at our house either but we don’t let neighbours use it as a thoroughfare to get to the shops”. Having said that if any of our neighbours took the route through the living room, into the kitchen and out the back door they would find themselves on a direct path to the graveyard so I doubt it
would have caught on even if my parents would have approved.
There were several more comings and goings throughout the afternoon, sometimes people stopped to chat, others would ask if any of us wanted “owt fetchin back” and some said nothing other than “just nippin ‘t shops” and with that gave a cheery wave with their shopping list and disappeared out the back door. My initial reaction to all was disgust this is not a how you use a house! but later it got me thinking about relationships in low income communities. Maybe all this coming and going was a good thing, a way for members of a community to support each other when they felt everyone else was against them?
*She was actually called Sheila but has asked me not to reveal her christian name.
There is only one occasion I recall when I was offended by someone making a comment about Rotherham. It was made by a salesman at a seminar I was attending who said “People in Rotherham find there way around using pub corners”. “What?” “Are you trying to be funny!?” “I don’t even drink you imbecile! and I don't even recall the last time I was in a pub"
Back on track alert (sorry it's how my mind works!)
Other areas of interest were a number of tudor houses (or mock Tudor anyway). You can tell which is which because roofs on real Tudor houses are collapsing in on themselves threatening to bury the occupants under a mountain of rubble and the walls are falling into the road. Mock Tudor houses are just council houses painted black and white with emulsion from Asda and a few planks bashed onto the wall to simulate beams. Local authorities are then able to charge £30,000 extra for the privilege of owning a 'period home' (they don't even provide tenants with loose fitting trousers and a tunic!).
One thing that's refreshing to see (or not as the case may be) is the lack of those ubiquitous chain stores that destroy the character of towns and cities everywhere Specsavers, Marks & Spencers, Boots, Debenhams, Primark and the like. I did see a Co-Op but it's opposite the car park so that anyone who uses the store can run away before anyone sees them.
THE RUSSIANS
Oh bloody hell I almost forgot! I'm supposed to be continuing the tale about my Russian friends - Natasha, Yulya and Inna. I'll have to add it tomorrow now - apparently if I write a blog post that takes longer than seven minutes to read people will refuse to read it and cancel their membership in droves
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