Decisions, Decisions

We had a rather unusual Friday evening. We were going out to a rather special event on Saturday and the only instruction was to wear something that we would feel comfortable in. To me comfortable means something that will not dig in when I sit down and something that makes me feel reasonably confident (or at least something that doesn't make me look like the back of a bus) I had thought about it during the week and by Friday evening I knew exactly what I wanted to wear, Robbie on the other hand hadn't  given it any thought until Friday evening. Asked my advice and I suggested jeans and his red T-shirt, but he rejected that idea on the grounds that it was not smart enough, then he vanished.

He reappeared after a few minutes wearing only his pants (scary) and clutching a selection of clothes. He appeared in front of me wearing a tucked in coloured check shirt and his smart casual charcoal trousers. The trousers are very nice and the shirt is OK but together they made him look 'special' with just a touch of the Simon Cowell waistband going on. I gave him a very firm no, but being Robbie he kept asking why so we had to have an in depth discussion about it. Robbie tried several more outfits, and that annoying word 'why' popped up far too often. In the end I felt as if I was trapped in an endless episode of Mr Benn, there was far too much dressing up going on. I wonder how Mr Benn's wife felt about all that dressing up, it was very dubious. We ended up more or less where we started, Robbie decided to wear his jeans with a nice shirt - tucked out.  The whole experience made me recall a cartoon that I saw recently, men and women really do see things differently when they look in the mirror!

Be Sure Your Sins Will Find You Out!

I have written several times about the dark cloud of worry that has been hanging over us since July when completely out of the blue Robbie received a £17,000 bill for child  support for a period almost 15 years ago when he was living with his ex partner and their children! To say that the last few months have been a living hell would be an understatement. Trying to get CSA to listen or respond was an impossibility and even with the help of our MP it has been an uphill struggle dealing with CSA. They seem to take the word of the woman without question while choosing to ignore all our evidence to show that he was living with his ex at that time.


Finally about a week ago we got a letter conceding that he did not owe £17,000 but insisting that he owed around £2000 because they still insist that he was not living with his ex for one of the years in question. This is based only on her word, the have chosen to ignore evidence from the bank that they had a joint bank account, evidence of his address from his employers at the time, tax documents, monthly bills etc. It seemed as if there was very little that we could do to provide further proof but we were determined not to give up. Robbie has always loved and supported his children and the suggestion that he had failed to support his family was as painful as the prospect of having to pay a large sum of money to the government that he didn't owe and could not afford.


Thankfully there was another piece of evidence and we hope very much that it will be accepted as conclusive evidence that he was with his ex for the whole period in question. Thanks to a very conscientious employee at Virgin Trains who kept meticulous records and also thanks to colleagues at Cross Country who went the extra mile and searched back through the files we feel a little more confident. We now have copies of a statutory declaration that was sworn in front of a solicitor and signed by the ex stating that she and Robbie had lived at the same address as a meaningful couple and that Robbie had supported his children for the whole period now in dispute. Surely that will be enough! 


Please keep your fingers crossed for us. I am not usually a vindictive person but I really hope that justice prevails and that she doesn't get away with abusing and defrauding the system! 

Living in the Past

It is half term, it seems as if they only went back to school a couple of weeks ago, but I have my son's company for the week. He (the one who likes to remain nameless) graciously agreed to come to the supermarket with me in return for a lift into town afterwards. According to him we had no food in the house and he was starving, but in reality the fridge, freezer and cupboards were well stocked; he just had a yearning for junk food and cereal. Typical!


As we drove out of the supermarket I wondered aloud if the woman at the traffic lights seriously thought that off white, skin tight almost see through leggings with a short top was a good look. I answered myself with the thought that someone should buy her a mirror for Christmas!  The nameless one in the passenger seat laughed out loud, he said "Mum, you make me laugh you are always living in the past" He went on to tell me that I didn't understand fashion, that may be true but I am fairly sure the world is not ready for sights like that!


In a way he is right, I don't live in the past but I carry it with me. It only takes a word or a look, a sound or a smell to transport me back to the people and places of my past. Sometimes a smile or a guilty look from my son reminds me so much of his dad. The smell from the brewery takes me back to my earliest years when I used to go with my aunt to deliver the church magazine in the streets that are now long gone. The sight of magnolia blossom brings back memories of my college rooms with the beautiful magnolia tree near my window. 

I came across this photo recently, I remember going to the Odeon to see the Aristocats, it was a birthday treat for one of my best friends. Looking at the Ladybird shop next door reminded me how much I disliked shopping for clothes with my mum when I was little. She has always loved fashion, but even when I was tiny I detested frills and fuss. It was a battle of wills, my mum got me to try on countless outfits and I objected to every single one. Sometimes I got my own way, but more often my mum dressed me in the clothes she liked. Among the horrors that still haunt me was the seriously unflattering ruched swimming costume and a bright red wet look raincoat that made terrible noises every time I moved. The worst by far were the orange hot pants, unlike my mum I have never been a hot pants type of person! So maybe my son is right I don't understand fashion, but I do understand that there are some sights that the world will never be ready for!!

Reaching out to the Past

It's official - I am obsessed! This morning I bought a 1980 Model Railway Constructor magazine that I have wanted for ages. This is not something I have bought just to please Robbie, I haven't even told him about it because he would probably tell me to buy a magazine about Deltics instead!

I have been researching my family tree for a number of years and as many of my ancestors lived in and around Northampton I have become fascinated by old photos and old maps of the town. If only we could have street view on old maps, there so many places that I would like to see as they were when my grandparents and great grandparents knew the town. I would like to see where they lived, where they worked and the places that mattered in their lives. Most of all I would like to see the three railway stations in the town as they were then.

We think the world has progressed but in terms of public transport my grandmother's horizons were much wider than my own. She could travel to many towns and villages within the county by train and if she wanted to travel further, the train would take her; and for more local journeys she could rely on the tram. 

The first of our railway stations to close was the most convenient and most beautiful of the three. It was less than a five minute walk from St John's station to the market square. Clearly customer convenience was not a high priority even then - some things never change! Saint John's Station had opened in 1872, it was the northern terminus of the Midland Railway's Bedford to Northampton line. The station was built above street level on red brick arches which carried the line across the road and out of the town on the 21 mile journey to Bedford via Piddington (which in reality was much closer to Horton), Olney and Turvey. It was closed in July 1939 as a cost cutting measure and the services were re-routed to the much less convenient Castle Station.

Now it would take Sherlock Holmes to find any clue that a station ever stood on that spot, the station seems to have been erased from local memory and there are so few photos that you could almost suspect a cover up. So my reason for buying the old magazine was that it contains plans of St Johns and with the help of maps and old photos I can perhaps imagine the station in it's glory days.

Normal Service is Resumed

A series of problems have conspired to keep me from writing the blog for almost two weeks. The first was lack of internet access courtesy of AOL, but more of that later. We had a very stressful few days before we finally got back online, but then I was ill. I don't know exactly what was wrong, no doubt the doctor would say it was a 'virus' but whatever it was I felt absolutely dreadful and I spent several days in bed. I am feeling better but I hope nobody else gets it because it really wiped me out.

On a Thursday morning two weeks ago our internet connection failed at about 8am. It seemed that no internet signal was reaching the router but our telephone was working perfectly, so I wondered if there was a problem with our cables. I popped out to buy new cables but when I tried them there was still no signal, I even tried a different router but still there was nothing. I got the line checked and there was nothing wrong with the line, so there was no alternative we had to ring AOL. Robbie rang them first, but he had to give up on the call after half an hour because the man would not deviate from his script and was no help whatsoever. I hate having to talk to call centres in foreign countries at the best of times, but AOL have taken poor service to an all time low. 


Anyway after over two hours of being passed from one unhelpful person to the next totally useless person I was reduced to tears of frustration. Not one of them spoke good enough English to understand me and I had extreme difficulty understanding them. To make matters worse they kept putting me on hold and playing dreadful music down the phone. My blood pressure must have been off the scale! They couldn't solve my problem, they didn't even seem to care about it. At one point they told Robbie that they could not check our internet signal because their equipment was broken and they had no idea when it would be working again! I told them that I had suffered enough and I wanted to leave AOL - NOW!! They treated me with total contempt and disconnected my call, but after calling back and queueing for an eternity they finally gave us the mac code needed to transfer to another provider.


We now have a better and faster internet service at less than half the price charged by AOL and as an added bonus  their call centre staff speak and understand English! So normal service has been resumed and I will be able to bring the blog up to date.

Still Fantastic at Fifty

Everyone knows about Robbie's passion for Deltics in general and Royal Scots Grey in particular. It is not hard to see why he loves Deltics so much, the power, the sound, the shape, they are awesome. The Deltics are celebrating their 50th birthday in style this year, there have been many special events and Robbie has been able to enjoy his beloved Royal Scots Grey on several occasions, but this has to be the highlight of the year. They still look fantastic at fifty!

Memories of a Special Day

Robbie says that my memory is much better that his - that's probably because I don't stuff my head with train numbers, timetable information and assorted junk! I am better at remembering ordinary things. I can remember that October 4th 2005 was a nice sunny day, in fact I can even remember what colour socks Robbie wore on that day and what type of footwear he wore. It is not really surprising that I can remember the details of that day - it was the day that Robbie and I got married. Today is our sixth wedding anniversary, just an day really but it is nice to remember, so here are a few extracts from previous blog entries 


This was written on our first wedding anniversary


It is only just over a year since we got married, but it feels as if Robbie and I have been together forever because despite 'eccentricities' we get on incredibly well. There were lots of reasons why we didn't rush into getting married, but there was one major obstacle for Robbie - I wanted him to wear shoes! For any readers who don't know him, he always wears Dr Martens (because he has different sized feet). Eventually Robbie negotiated a deal re the shoes for the wedding. He would wear Dr Marten Oxford shoes for the big day and I would make no objection to him buying a new pair of purple Dr Marten boots. I wouldn't have minded him buying the boots anyway, but I let him think he had struck a tough bargain! He does make me laugh.


He was even brave enough to suggest that I should also wear Dr Marten's. Apparently they do make Dr Martens for women, but there is no way on earth that I was going to wear them for my wedding - or any other occasion. Robbie's boots are incredibly heavy, it would have been like getting married in diving boots, I wouldn't have been able to lift my feet up! My friend got married wearing an Arsenal top, I was tempted by that idea, but I don't think I was designed for sports wear!! 


This is why I remember the socks he wore


His taste in socks is almost as eclectic as his preference in shirts! He likes loud colours, and why settle for one loud colour when you can have loud stripes – he likes stripes! They even put in an appearance at our wedding. I have written before about the compromise we reached concerning Robbie wearing shoes rather than Dr Marten boots to get married. The little detail I had overlooked was the socks. On the day we were getting ready to leave the house when Robbie emerged wearing a very nice suit and bare feet. In his hand he carried a brand new rather noticeable pair of pink socks. There was no way that he was leaving the house in those, and after a forlorn attempt to fight his corner he headed back upstairs get some different socks. I thought nothing more about it until we were asked to sit down during the ceremony. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Robbie’s immaculate shoes and his hideous socks – they were clashing stripes of different blues. I have held a grudge against those socks ever since, but the dratted things never get separated in the wash and they show no signs of wearing out!


I loved our honeymoon

Apparently our honeymoon has become a bit of a legend among his work mates. Robbie works for a railway company as a train planner, and he is obsessively interested in everything to do with trains. His mates couldn't work out how he got away with a 'train focussed' honeymoon.

We had the most amazing start to our honeymoon. We spent an afternoon and evening in London cranking at Euston and the Kings Cross, after that we made our way across to Paddington. We had a first class booking on the Penzance sleeper, but it didn't leave until almost midnight, so I had plenty of time to enjoy the wonders of the First Class Lounge. Robbie got 'ants in his pants' and asked if he could go off and do a bit more train spotting. That was fine by me, I was happy to sit there and take in every detail of my surroundings, those rooms are incredible.

The sleeper journey was really special. I made sure I was awake in time to enjoy the early morning part of the journey.  ‘Sleeping beauty’ didn’t wake up until his breakfast arrived! One of the most magical memories was watching the sun rise as we came towards St Michaels Mount.

Well I have shared quite enough details about our honeymoon! The rest of the week was great too …….and it involved lots more trains!!


I would love to go on the sleeper to Penzance again one day.

From Troubles of the World I Turn to Ducks - Frank W. Harvey

There will be few words in this article because the pictures can tell their own story. It is 2nd October but today was as hot and sunny as a day in July, so Robbie and I went to the park to enjoy the sunshine.

There are several exercise contraptions positioned around the park. Robbie decided to use the twisty one, I think it is designed to work on waist and tummy muscles. It was very entertaining but I am not sure if it did any good!

Robbie spent a long time stalking a squirrel in the hope of getting the perfect shot. The squirrel obliged and posed for a photo, but Robbie accidentally deleted it - the photo not the squirrel! As we walked back from the ice cream van I picked up a conker and slipped it into Robbie's pocket. At the time he was busy eating his ice cream but when he found it a few minutes later he decided to search under a tree for more conkers. There was just one problem - it wasn't a Horse Chestnut tree!!

I never tire of this view. I used to come here as a child to feed the ducks or to fish for tiddlers, So many memories.

You are never too old to feed the ducks. I don't think anyone can sit by the lake watching the antics of the ducks and still feel miserable.

All along the backwater, 

Through the rushes tall, 

Ducks are a-dabbling, 

Up tails all!

Kenneth Grahame

From the Top of the Bus

A few weeks ago when I was writing about Robbie's passion for old buses I remembered catching the bus to town with my aunt when I was very young. Usually she would allow me to go up to the top deck and sit at the front. I liked this because I was high enough to see things that I couldn't possibly see from the pavement. If  we walked into town we would stop on the bridge close to the station and my aunt would support me as I scrambled up to look over the wall and down on the station below. I wanted to stay there to watch all the comings and goings at the station, but I was never allowed to. The top deck of the bus allowed me to take a longer look at the station below and if the bus drove slowly enough and had to queue at the junction, I could look across and get a glimpse of the goods yard. The station yard always fascinated me because I could hear the trains from my home. The noises seemed more noticeable when I went to bed at night and I often asked my mum what the trains were doing. Her answer was always the same, shunting, it was probably the only railway related word that she could think of. When I asked what shunting was I got a very sketchy answer, so I was always keen to see the goods yard and see this mysterious 'shunting' with my own eyes.

Thinking about those days so far back in my memory prompted me to look for pictures of the station back then. Oddly I remember the sounds and smells better than any visual memories of the station at that time. It was redeveloped in 1964/5 (vandalised would be a more accurate term) so it is hardly surprising that my memories are not so clear, I was only 4 in 1965! I can remember feeling very cross with them for what they were doing, I felt as if they were spoiling everything. When the new station was built I still loved to look down at the comings and goings on the platform but I disliked the unfriendly new building. To me it looked as if someone had dumped some ugly farm sheds in the middle of the town. It was probably the first building that I actively disliked.

Looking at the pictures I can see that my childhood instincts were surprisingly accurate. Taking away the old station building and replacing it with little more than a tin shack was an act of vandalism and deeply disrespectful to the town. I travelled by train many times during my childhood and teenage years, and the station was cold, ugly and unwelcoming, the sort of place that you would avoid if you possibly could. It is a little bit better theses days because they had to modernise it some years ago, but there is much truth in the old saying - you can't make a silk purse out of a sow's ear. The only good thing I can say about Northampton Station is that the toilets are adequate and well looked after. 


Now plans are afoot to redevelop the station building and the surrounding area. West Northampton Development Corporation are working with Network Rail on the new development. It is hard to think of an organisation more disliked and distrusted than Network Rail, but West Northamptonshire Development Corporation is 'it', it is loathed and distrusted by locals because of it's high handed ways and the horrible things that it has done to our town. The plans for the new development are horrible, the buildings are ugly, soulless and impractical. They certainly haven't planned it with the needs of local people in mind. It only we could travel back to a time before the old station was demolished and start again, then perhaps we could get it right.


A camel is a horse designed by committee. - Alec Issigonis.

Thanks For The Memories

David Croft died a few days ago. This man whose face I would hardly recognise has brought me and countless others considerable pleasure over the years. With Jimmy Perry he created Dads Army, It Ain't Half Hot Mum and Hi-De-Hi. He also co wrote Are You Being Served?, 'Allo 'Allo, Grace and Favour, Oh, Dr Beeching and You Rang M'Lord? David Croft's work brought smiles and laughter to my childhood and the humour continued through my adult life. Oh Dr Beeching was among my favourites, with it's gentle humour and nostalgia for a time past, but my absolute favourite was Dad's Army.

I was only 7 when Dad's Army first came to our screens, I watched it with my Dad and he used to tell me that when he was in the Home Guard he was a bit like Frank Pike, obsessed with the cinema, not quite grown up and burdened with an over protective mother - but my grandma was much more straight laced than Mrs Pike. I remember my dad taking me to see the Dad's Army film as a special treat. It is special because I have so few memories of doing things with my dad. My favourite characters were Joe Walker and Arthur Wilson, I remember feeling so sad when James Beck the actor who played Walker died. Perhaps more than any other comedy Dad's Army has stood the test of time. It is still regularly shown on television and it is still enjoyed by viewers, in fact when I got home this afternoon I turned on the television and found that the Dad's Army film was on. I am sure I laughed as much today as when I first saw it all those years ago. If David Croft and Jimmy Perry had found the secret of successful writing it was perhaps that they wrote about what they knew, they had both been in the army during the second world war. They also understood character, they wrote about real people with strengths, weaknesses and funny little quirks. Their humour did not mock, it recognised the humour in a situation but it respected the strengths and humanity of the characters. 


David Croft has left a legacy of laughter that I am sure will live on for many years to come. Thank you for the memories.

Good Advice - Keep Your Mouth Shut!

Sometimes I wonder about my fellow human beings, they say and do some really stupid things at times, if only they would stop and think first! At the checkout in a toyshop a 'normal' looking woman began shouting at a member of staff. She had bought a dolls twin buggy and was complaining that the shop did not sell twin dolls. The member of staff explained to her that she could buy two identical dolls of her choice, or she could choose dolls with the same features but different outfits, or even a boy and a girl doll from the same range! The woman continued to shout and swear and insisted that it would be no good unless it said 'twin' on the box!! 


'Even a fool is thought wise if he keeps silent' Proverbs 17.28 

In the same toy shop I spotted a display of Smurf figures. It reminded me of visiting Roy's Toys in Wroxham with Robbie, when he saw the Smurfs he was so excited that he practically jumped up and down and begged to buy one. Anyway, I was looking at a box containing a set of Smurfs and I realised how closely they represented the many faces of Robbie. Before he takes offence I'd better explain. There is one with (almost) Robbie type glasses carrying a book, it reminds me of the countless times he says "Did you know ..........................." There is one with red trousers (enough said on that subject in my recent post), there is one with a daft grin and one with his arms folded looking very moody. Even the one in the kilt reminds me of Robbie because he never misses an opportunity to show off the Burgess legs! There is also a female Smurf (Smurfette) I am not suggesting that Robbie is a closet tranny, of course not, he has no problem being in touch with his feminine side. He often tells me that he was just as happy to play with Barbie dolls with his cousin as to play with his beloved Tonka toys. I tried to make sure that my own children were brought up in the same way. 

So which of those Smurfs is my favourite? that is easy, it has to be Grouchy because that expression is so like Robbie when he has a strop! 

Last of the Summer Sun

When I went to the supermarket earlier this week, it felt as if I had taken a step back to early August. It was very hot with bright sunshine and and everyone was wearing short sleeved tops. To my surprise it has remained and sunny ever since. Of course looks can be deceiving, it may be hot in the middle of the day, but the early morning is dark and distinctly nippy and the long summer evenings have been chased away by the encroaching autumn darkness. I am always pleased to see the sun, but in a way the sunny days this week are a sad reminder of all that has gone. Was it really six weeks ago that we were on holiday in Norfolk? 

I love the summer, I don't need the weather to be too hot, just warm and comfortable, but mostly I love the long days and warm pleasant evenings. I think my favourite month is May when there are so many wild flowers and it warm with long lazy evenings and the summer stretches ahead of us. September is my least favourite month, it feels as if the darkness closes in around us with dark mornings and encroaching darkness in the evening with the promise of worse to come. We all have little triggers that remind us of past sadness and for me it is the sound of conkers falling to the ground from Horse Chestnut Trees. I remember the excitement of getting up early to go and collect conkers when I was little and I did the same when my children were little, so there are some good memories. However they are overshadowed by the memory of sitting in a hospital room, looking out at the beautiful grounds and hearing the conkers fall from the trees with a thud on to the grass below. In the quiet of the night the thud of the conkers falling seemed very loud. How odd that something so insignificant can sound so loud when a human life can slip away noiselessly.