yen_powell

Those boots are wedged under the workbench in the garage. My neighbour gave them to me out of the blue one day, along with a pair of trousers, gloves, knee and elbow pads and a few other bits because his back was shot and he had no plans to ride a motocross bike again like he used to. He just rode his Suzuki V- twin rorty road bike to get his 2 wheel fix he said.

You're not claiming you've worked your way up to being working class are you? Ideas above your lowly station I reckon. Getting out of the bath to piss does not make you posh. I read that Lord Wotsisface, the royal photographer's book, Patrick Lichfield, that was it and he was riding a motorbike in the 60s/70s when he was in the Grenadier Guards (well one of the ones with the hairy hats anyway).

See this hot weather look you, it's not bloody good enough see. Just give me 16 years, my old welsh spell book, 1,000 sacrificial lambs (but not the good looking one) and then Boyo watch this space....... I shall make it snow just like home!

Can't you take it off, pop it in a jiffy bag and post it to him? Surely you have a spare syrup whilst you wait for it to come back?

That'll be south Essex, if you want a Tudor mansion in this bit and you have the cash there are plenty about. I reckon there are about 3 millionaires on every tiny country lane here judging by the houses you see as you ride around. And those are just the ones you can see, some have drives that put their front door half a mile from a public road. Wool trade wealth built most of them in the 1300 - 1600s I suspect, and the stock market and bank robbing pays for the upkeep now.

I've voted for the Welsh turd polisher, because if you had told me this time last year his bike would be on a road with snow in the back ground I would have laughed so hard a bit of wee would have come out, but there it is!!

I think you're right. If they think no one will notice they leave it. I understand, who wants to pick up a hot turd, pop it into a bag and carry it about, but that's the price of owning a dog these days. When I was a kid some scummy people used to chuck their dog out at the start of the day and call them in in the evening, like cats. I remember one called Champ when I was about 7 years old, a large German Shepherd, used to lay outside the flats where we lived. If you called him he would come for a walk with you. The git bit me on the shoulder once as I ran past like a looney and frightened him. We also had a German Shepherd called Sheba, it was one of my jobs to take her out a few times a day, I had to walk the opposite direction from Champ in case there was a fight or worse....puppies!

Here it's to keep the whole thing out of the clag and plop. I once went through some clay so thick that it formed a perfect 4 or 5 inch thick ring of mud to stick to my front wheel, the forks acting as a cutter to keep it the same width as my tyre. I thought when I left the soft ground and got onto tarmac it would fall off. No chance, I was riding along with my front end 5 inches higher than it should have been. Had to stop and use my hands to drag the stuff off in the end.

I tried to keep the traditional dog poo out of the pictures. It's everywhere at the moment, people aren't picking up like they used to. And there are no stray dogs, all have a human walking with them.

That is the end of the water mill. The bit sticking out was for loading or unloading the waggons with the grain/flour. Essex waggons have very big wheels to cope with the state of the awful unsurfaced roads caused by the infamous Essex clay (like the cart in the famous painting The Hay Wain). The local clay is excellent for making bricks, not so good to get through mid winter. There is a small victorian 'hand made brick' place in the country side round here. When the leisure lockdown eases I'll take my bike up there and get some pictures, it's next to a green lane, but I think it should be fine for my current bike if I'm careful. I am going to take a trip to the big graveyard on the edge of town. My ex used to be friends with the caretaker's wife who lived in the house there, but I've never been inside, so I must explore. That's got to be a weird place to live, especially at night.

That's right, I had to get my Mum and Dad to run around handing out tickets to the people who were going as I was locked into a secure ward with all the other strokers!

I had one of those moments where I suddenly stood up and decided to go for a walk, no thinking first. I decided to cut through the park behind my estate, cross the river and walk up to have a look at the convent. Another place I ride past a lot never stopped to look properly. The park was busy with people, large areas of grass under a few inches of water, frozen in places so people werre looking for stones or rocks to throw at it to make it shatter. Got to the bridge and could see the water was high but it looked like the deck was out of the water from a distance. I was wrong! Water came up to my ankles, left boot shipped a little water and the bottom of my jeans were a bit soggy. The couple walking towards me with their dog decided to turn round after seeing me cross the bridge. The other side of the bridge is a concrete track that becomes Convent Lane. I wandered down and took a look at the convent itself. never seen a nun so either they aren't any there, or they walk about in mufti so you can't spot them. They have one of those little doors with a grill to talk through. A few yards from the convent is the town bridge over the river. The water was very high compared to usual. In old photographs I've seen this was one of those bridges that had a raided wooden walkway at the sides for when the water was above the road level. Never noticed this mill was next to the bridge or this weird plastered house before. There's a name for it, a local tradition called pargetting, I even used to know a bloke who did it to his council house on a side wall, what he done was really good, if a little out of place https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pargeting I decided to walk back through town, my left foot was starting to dry so didn't want to go wading over the park bridge again. I went past the leany house, god that thing is pissed. Nice knockers though. Pics below

It was an Everly Brothers song on my hard drive. Apparently Roy Orbison Inc or something similar decided I was distributing their music without a licence so they sent me a produce the licence or desist. I didn't even know it was there, some hooky collection of zillions of MP3s given to me by a neighbour. Shame, I likes a bit of Roy as well and the poor fucker had been dead a few years then.

Same reason I come on here, morbid curiosity.

I got a similar email from Napster.....remember them?

When I was in Ireland for a week, we had a single gorgeous sunny day. I saw an old grave yard in the village we were staying in and thought I'd have a walk through it. All peaceful, birdsong and butterflies it was. I walked round a large gravestone and nearly had a heart attack when I saw a bloke laid out on top of a stone slab a few feet away snoring his head off.

There is a legend about petticoat Lane market that says if you walk though it your wristwatch will be removed from your wrist in the first few feet, but you can buy it back before you get to the other end.

I rode to work and back this morning, it was like summer, warm enough to wear thin gloves and one less layer under my jacket, no need for heated grips. It was also overcast and windy but you can't have everything. Snow forecast over the weekend though, warmth is a temporary condition. Two nutters followed me along a closed road asking me questions today about the site we were on. Either there are more about than usual or they are deliberately seeking me out. I think one was telling me he loved council workers, his diction wasn't great so I'm not sure. This was right by the Watch House built in the 1800s to stop people stealing bodies from the grave yard and selling them to the anatomists at the local teaching hospital, proving that there is a long and fine tradition of thievery in the area. “A watch-house stands at the corner of the churchyard. Body-snatching reached its peak during the 1820s and most London graveyards have, or had, watch-houses dating from that period. The Anatomy Act of 1832 put body-snatchers out of business. before that doctors could legally have only corpses of criminals for dissection.”

I've never been a mad rider, I fear falling off too much, but I also only obey speed limits if I think there's a chance of getting caught, other than that I go at the speed I am happy that I won't (most importantly) hurt myself or hurt anyone else. I go less than the speed limit if I think it's a bit too iffy to go any quicker, I am always on the look out for what could get in my way or cause me problems ahead. Like a prophet of doom for that I am. On the other hand if I think it's safe and I won't get caught I'll go lots over the limit, especially in some places where local politicians have had it lowered because they think it will lower accidents. My own employer has a 20mph borough wide limit which is a joke, even the buses, the Police and the cyclists drive/ride more quickly than that. Outside a school or a park, fair enough, but on a 3 lane wide road with no houses and wide footways????? The silly thing is, it means I don't have to light up signs, put some road markings in or put as much anti skid surfacing before ped x-ings down because the prevailing limit is 20, despite everyone actually still doing 30/40 when they get a free run up. The fastest I ever went on a bike was only 140 and I only did that twice, once 2 up on the main A road between Plymouth and Exeter on my first FJ1200 and once on the A13 in Essex on my second FJ just to see if it felt like the first time. Wasn't that keen if I'm honest. Now I rarely go over 100 on the motorway.

My paper licence is a bit ragged round the edges, had the same one since 97 when I last moved, so when I got my speeding points in 2017 I thought that when I sent it off for endorsement they would make me have a photocard type which I have been avoiding. But no, they sent it back, they don't write on them any more it goes online now of course, so my paper copy is clean at least. Same happened for the 2019 points as well. When I have to produce it at work or for hiring a bike or car abroad I make sure they don't manhandle it too much, I'm not paying for a new one every 10 years, not when it is valid till 2035.

I had a permitting another rider without insurance (4 points), crossing double white lines (3 points), 58 in a 30 (3 points) back in 1986, 10 points in total, then a 37 in a 30 which would have got me a 6 month ban (taken me to 13 points) but the Police ballsed it up and I got away with it. Then nothing until 2015 when I got a 50 in a 30 and 2017 when I got a 90 in a 70, 6 points in total. I've had continuous motorcycle insurance with no claims for 38 years, but according to my insurance company I only have 9 years no claims because that is the maximum with them.

Oooh, not seen that one, I'll search it out. He's in a wheelchair if you see some of them, some sort of spinal problem. He speaks like many of the contractors I have worked with, he's quite close to the line where I start to miss some words when he speaks. I have a meeting on Thursday with a bloke from a developer called Brendan who I cannot understand at all. I try and take Jim my main contractor with me, his mother comes from the same part of Ireland as Brendan. At the end of the meeting Jim tells me what Brendan said if I am not sure, BUT even he has trouble understanding him. Our most famous contractor, Patsie, was never ever understood, even by other people from his own county in Ireland. He's close to retirement now, but about 10 years ago a posh lady who's house they worked outside said to the supervisor how nice the Bosnian man was who was doing the work. He has been known as Bosnian Patsie ever since.

I wouldn't do that to anyone just trying to earn a living, especially if he was offering a fixed price service.