Gwiwer

G'morning all. What a wet day. Outside. I have no plans to immerse myself in sky-wee without very good cause. Shopping. Habits have changed as our situation has changed. In London we were beyond comfortable walking distance of the nearest supermarket though there were numerous "corner shops" and a selection of miniature versions of the big chains slightly closer. We could never get all we wanted in one place. Before we had personal mobility I sometimes took the train to Kingston or North Sheen where there are large supermarkets close to those stations; we of course lived adjacent to the station Upon the Hill of Strawberries. Once we had the Little Red Driving Box I used that to do Tesco runs to the Ivybridge superstore. In the midst of all that along came the Wuhan Woohaa; we were already using Ocado anyway and we relied heavily on deliveries through and after the pandemic. We now live in a modest town of 4500 people, perhaps 5000 in summer. The local Co-op is well-stocked and what we occasionally can\t get there we can get over the road in an old-style general store which has adopted modern trends. They offer cleaning products in "bring-your-own-bottle" refills, all of the non-dairy milk alternatives and non-chemical pest repellants among a surprising selection of herbs, spices and "free-from" foods. So we are pretty well catered for with a two-minute walk to the shops. I do sometimes use Sainsbury's near Penzance if I really want a wide choice; dropping Dr. SWMBO to and from the train on Mondays and Thursdays and passing through to and from MRC on Wednesdays means there is not really any extra fuel being burned for such trips. We are also blessed with a traditional butcher and a baker in town, a farmer's market and a community farm (who have a stall at the market) all of which we support so the eggs come from fields around the town, bread is baked locally and some of the meat is also "grown" over the road from us. Low food miles. And no need for delivery vans. We do see a few of those but not daily and nowhere near the number which line London's streets.

Ocado always rang us as described. "Is it OK to deliver early?" or "Really sorry but I am running about XX minutes late; will that still be OK?" They know how far they are behind schedule so they can be pretty accurate in offering an ETA. We only had two really late deliveries. One was due to a van breakdown which delayed our delivery by around two hours but again they kept us fully informed and assured us that all chilled and frozen foods were protected and it was the van, not its chiller, which had broken down. The other was following a fire at their Erith depot which disrupted everyone's deliveries for a couple of days. This time it was Customer Services (based in Hatfield, I believe) who called offering their profound apologies and advising that our order was not yet on the road. A couple of hours later and they called back saying it was on the road but might not reach us until after midnight. That was OK with me. It was very OK with me that they then waived the entire cost of that order as compensation for the inconvenience. They were about five hours late that night.

But I shall never forget one such occasion. On my last shift before retirement all had been going quite well until around 10.15 when a train became gapped leaving Waterloo. That was a pair of 455s. Being able to see the exact location thanks to today's technology I immediately knew that a rescue would take around an hour. Another 455 would have to be dispatched from Waterloo down towards Vauxhall, manual releases of interlocking would be required and it would then have to shunt back bang-road and couple to the front of the casualty. Which put Waterloo platforms 1 - 4 and the Main Slow lines out of use and caused the expected significant network-wide disruption. I was due to sign off at 11.00 and we had just about got some sort of service restored by 10.58 when the 10.27 Waterloo - Waterloo "rounder" via Kingston called at Clapham 22 minutes late but on the Down Slow. That was going to be my final dispatch. I announced the train on the radio-mic (because it was running out of timetable order and because it would be the last time I did such a thing) and when ready I gave a good long blast on the whistle, checked all was good to go and gave the guard the tip. And was then presented in a very ad-hoc manner with my retirement gifts right there on the platform in front of hundreds of frustrated and long-suffering passengers. As the clock ticked past 11.00 we were alerted to the casualty having moved off and would we please stand by with the station wheelchair and bottles of water as it was still carrying passengers who had been trapped aboard for an hour. We did . There was no way I was walking away when all hands were needed. To ease its passage into Wimbledon Depot the train had been routed onto the Down Main Fast meaning that the rear coaches were off the platform end. The guard had managed to get everyone on board into the middle so there was no-one left to clear from the back. With passengers off and with the guard now off the train which was proceeding as e.c.s. someone had to give the driver a green-light tip to start. That - for those who don't know - is a process very seldom used but employed when the guard has left a train which will proceed with only a driver, or when the guard's signal bell is defective, or when a train has over-run a starting signal at red and is later authorised to move . Guess who was first to the front? In all my years I had never had to give a "green tip" but at 11.25 and some 25 minutes into my retirement I dispatched a 12-car 455 comprising of rescue unit and the pair of failed ones. As I had, technically, retired at 11.00 I couldn't even claim the overtime! Job done. Professional railwayman to the last.

We used Ocado for six years Upon the Hill of Strawberries. Unique among British delivering "supermarkets" they do not own any physical stores meaning there is no human to pick your selection from the shelves and substitute what they think you might like if the preferred item is unavailable. They work from huge distribution centres and regional hubs. Our order sometimes came from Erith, sometimes from Bracknell, so not light on "food miles" but in the context of a van having perhaps 30 deliveries to make compared with perhaps as many car trips to a local supermarket it's still a reduction in vehicle mileage overall. Their centres are almost 100% automated using robots to pick your items from the vast stores. When you place an order your request is matched to stock on hand and stock expected prior to your booked delivery; it will show Out of Stock if they cannot offer the item for your delivery day and (in most cases) alternatives are suggested but you can pick which, if any, of those you would like. This means their substitution rate is very low compared with their competitors though you will sometimes find a substitution made on the day and which you can refuse at the door with credit given on the spot. We had very few outright missing items and only a few substitutions; fewer than one a week overall. Ocado were also quick to respond to the sudden spike in demand when Covid arrived and we stopped being comfortable shopping in person. They prioritised delivery slots to their regular customers and loyalty card holders could even book a guaranteed day and time once a week. Stocks of most items were reliable and their software was quick to respond to panic-buying and limit the quantities one could purchase of those critical items we all had difficulty finding for a time. We were very happy with them overall and would recommend them over any of the regular supermarket delivery services. It's a shame they don't come this far west; we are too far from their nearest hub these days but it's easier here than it was in London (!) to walk to the local supermarket and get mos or all of what we need.

I managed to build OO rodding with Ratio kits. These Modelu products are definitely of interest here.

My late father started studying with the OU and tuned into BBC2 at those time appropriate to what ever he was studying. I forget the subject matter now. I do however remember him being very wary of the OU summer school at the University of Bath. Having never progressed beyond Public Elementary in his formal education thanks to the conditions of the time arising from the activities of a certain moustache-sporting German this was all very new to him but he was determined that he "could do something with his life". His concerns were not borne out. He was worried that it would be a case of "University - Big; OU - tiny and in a couple of rooms". It was very different on reality and he returned having thoroughly enjoyed himself. Not only was the OUSS given the run of the entire university but this included supervised visits to the greenhouse where "research" was being lawfully conducted into the cannabis plant. A heated glasshouse full of them! Visits were supervised and timed but hey. The only time my dad ever got up close and personal as a student with recreational substances! He didn't complete his course. As I remember he suffered one of several redundancies in his working life and found he could no longer afford the fees to continue whilst on the dole. To his admitted dismay he felt embarrassed and shamed that he was "unable to make anything of his life". And he went to his maker pleading much the same despite having been thought of by many who knew him as a good, kind, thoughtful and caring chap. He never wore a kipper tie either; dad was always a cravat man and could look dapper as you like when occasion required. Even when it didn't he often chose to sport a cravat just for sitting in the lounge doing crosswords, listening to music or reading the paper.

After-school pick-up ten minutes. It’s all over that quickly SUVs are not a feature. The kids mostly walk home as it’s within a few hundred metres at most. Those who live on outlying farms do get picked up. In suitable vehicles. Such as daddy’s Land Rover or work van. Or mummy’s little runabout. SUVs don’t fit our lanes and there’s nowhere to park them. Very few of us can park at home - we mostly use the central car park which is free, belongs to the town and is within 3-4 minutes walk of most homes.

Welcome to Wetnessday which, oddly, is not living up to its name at all. In common with other ERs the shiny thing is doing its best. Not a good night and I suspect sleeping too long might be the cause. I’ll try adjusting the llama to 6.30 not 7.00. His Furship met the neighbour through the front window yesterday and was unimpressed. Neighbour (Teddy)’s face was something at being presented with hind-quarters at close-quarters. Then there was one last trip up the tree Before it came down Leaving a clear view of and from the cottage

G'devening all. A busy old day today had been and no mistake. Thursday cleaning was done this morning because visitors were expected after lunch. They duly arrived and, as had been arranged with them previously, saws were brought and the dead cordyline tree was removed. It now consists of three stumps each approximately 18" tall while the rest has been taken for recycling. How does one recycle a tree? One's friends take it in their car to a rural location, land which they happen to own, and place the cut sections alongside a stream. Nature will then take its course over the coming years while we hope that wildlives, various, find a good home. So the tree is gone and a better and uninterrupted view of the cottage has arrived. Surprisingly it doesn't look too bare. We had tea and cake (lemon & basil for those playing at home) which was described as "lush" and they went on their way with nothing more for thanks than a brown muddling voucher. That was as much as I could persuade them to take. Fission Chips were enjoyed for a slightly early dinner just before 6 as I was quite peckish. The earliness of the feast allowed me to engage in a very "me" sort of evening. Our open top "Coaster" bus has been running since Easter and I have already made a couple of trips on it but unusually - for a rural area and a route largely pitched at tourism - there are some evening trips. So I boarded the 18.35 to St. Ives and Penzance and was pleasantly surprised to find I wasn't alone. There were around ten others aboard and we even collected a few more at remote farms and isolated spots along the coast road. With superb scenery and a lowering sun the cool conditions on the upper deck in the open-air didn't really bother me and I enjoyed the ride until we joined the main A30 towards Penzance. At which point I opted for the lower deck having sat upstairs for 90 minutes of the two-hour trip. And then back home aboard our little red evening bus. One of those the council includes in its contracted services and which, again, was surprisingly well used for a Tuesday in April. When peak-season arrives there will be even later buses along the coast - later than there have been ever before. I shall sample the 20.35 trip at some point, remarkably late in the evening for an open-top bus to be out but it doesn't reach Penzance until 22.30. And there is still a bus home even at that hour as the last is at 23.20 thanks to us having a pro-public transport unitary authority who support such a service. Which is, in turn, supported by a modest number of passengers most evenings.

Not Kirribilli then? That might be a better place for a hazard-reduction burn.

Does that mean you were a shot in the dark. That might give rise to a misconception

One came down here They are widely, if thinly, distributed around the world now having largely ceased to operate in London. One tourist route, the T15, still uses them between the Tower of London and Charing Cross / Trafalgar Square but it's not within the TfL fares scheme. A number of Routemasters went to the Niagara Falls where some still are. A handful have ben purchased as hospitality units or mobile homes and have travelled through Europe and the US. You won't spend a day in central London without seeing one as there are also numerous "tours" such as the afternoon tea run and the ghost tour which use Routemasters in addition to a handful in use on sightseeing trips alongside high-capacity modern vehicles. My favourite iteration was the long Green Line coach, type code RCL, which were originally used from Aldgate to Grays, Upminster, Corbett's Tey and Brentwood. They didn't last long and were moved onto the more prestigious Tunbridge Wells - London - Windsor routes but again were moved on after a couple of years to be downgraded to buses as the Green Line coach network went over to one-person operated coaches. The 709, Baker Street - Godstone, hung on until 1976 as the last bastion of crew-worked Green Line service using a trio of RCLs. This unlikely operation comprised just three trips in each weekday peak and two on Sundays; it was felt that the cost of new vehicles specifically for that was unaffordable so the Routemasters remained for around six years after they were taken off other routes. I enjoyed riding them between Croydon and Horsham on that long route through the varying Surrey countryside. 11 litre engines and rear air suspension gave them a turn of speed and a degree of comfort their red city cousins didn't quite match. Geared for the faster Green Line coach services they moved given an open road. Not even the "normal" 100 green Routemaster buses (type RML) built for the country area matched that; they featured the standard 9 litre engine and leaf springs.

"Routemaster" is a term used increasingly, but erroneously, for any old-style bus with an open rear platform Usually red ones but I have heard the term applied to those in other colours. As @PhilJ W says a Routemaster was actually a specific marque of vehicle designed and produced for London and built by AEC and Park Royal Vehicles. Just shy of 3000 were built all but 50 going to London; the balance were sold to Northern General and were of a forward-entrance design not used in London but intended for wider provincial sales which never materialised. Many of those non-Routemaster buses used widely across the country were the products of Bristol, Leyland and Daimler types; others were from AEC but were not Routemasters. In Hampshire and Wiltshire Bristol types were most common.

Yesterday was a fine, dry one with a good deal of sun but not a lot of degrees in the Celsius department. This brought out a sizeable contingent of folks wishing to travel on "old" buses. And old buses there were indeed though their numbers were, as is often the way at such events, slightly thinner than planned. Two Bristol FLFs were expected to run and indeed two arrived in Penzance and were paraded before the event began but one then vanished and was replaced by a much more modern 63-reg vehicle. The Bristol LS bus didn't make it but there was an LS coach as a late entry substitute for something else that was poorly. The Bristol LH "grant coach" failed to complete it sfirst booked trip and limped home hors de combat to be replaced by hasty rearrangement of other duties. So my planned ride into town from home on the Lodekka didn't happen. I was aware of the change just in time to leave earlier and hop aboard a Series 3 VRT of the kind that I spent years driving and therefore do not think of as a "heritage" bus at all. For reasons not explained it was also operating its scheduled circular route in reverse meaning this was an all main-road trip. I squeezed aboard the diminutive Bristol SUS which is one of two survivors from a small fleet and one which I used to ride to and from school no less than 60 years ago. It didn't look that old and it was well kept and presented. The Mousehole run was what it was bought for and took me on that nostalgic trip past school, harbour and the end of the street I grew up on. Then into and out of that village where two 90-degree turns are required on opposing locks to get in and out and with about an inch clear either side of the stone cottages! I had driven hundreds of trips down there and never ever touched the wall but I did note there was paint on it from something - maybe a van - that has misjudged the turn quite recently. Our driver took the turns carefully and to the applause of most aboard as the walls came ever-closer to the windows before we cleared the corners. I did get home on a Lodekka; the other one ran its booked duties and we ground up the long hill through Madron and out onto the moors in second gear making a good deal of noise in the process. Along the single-track coast road we just managed to avoid a lengthy reverse-move having spotted another bus approaching just in time to wait at a wider spot. And we ground up Nancherrow Hill into St. Just in second dropping perfectly into first part-way up with neither grating nor hesitation. Most of those out for the day were not what I would call bus enthusiasts. Many were young families. Every trip I rode on was full and with babies crying, children squealing and singing (thankfully not "Wheels on the Bus") the experience was akin to an hour in a chicken-house. But over all it was a well-organised and well-supported day even if many of the vehicles were "just ordinary buses" in the eyes and words of many waiting for something visibly older than a Bristol VRT or a Leyland National. Passing Newlyn Harbour aboard Bristol SUS 600 (672 COD) at the point I used to alight from this very bus coming home from school 60 years earlier 600 in Mousehole - the biggest buses of their time which would fit and at that time offering a 10-minute headway; it's now 20 minutes. Royal Blue style Oldest on parade was this beauty new to Wilts & Dorset Buses as I remember them; Bristol FLF and Bristol SUS at the setting-down stand in Penzance Bristol LS coach substituting for a poorly but newer type. The Mercedes minibus behind is the current Mousehole bus. "Changing the board" in St. Just bus station. Legally always the conductor's responsibility You wait all day and then three come together! St. Just bus station with the late-running 15.35 (FLF), punctual 15.50 (Series 2 VRT) and the arrival for the 16.00 (Series 3 VRT) departures all going back to Penzance by different routes.

Evening all. A busy one today. Dr SWMBO is not normally involved with ecclesiastical inflorescence but chose to make a display of “Antipodean” flowers together with miniature New Zealand and Australian flags to go on the church’s war memorial to mark ANZAC Day. Dear to her, as it is to most Aussies, not least because her father saw service with the Royal Australian Navy in the Vietnam War. I was required to drive her the very short distance to church to avoid the need to walk clutching a sizeable vase of flowers. The eucalypt leaves were the only truly Antipodean representatives; the rest were local species including bluebells from our own garden. She then pottered off for tea and cake with a church friend while I pottered off to enjoy some big green toys. I was reunited with the very bus I used to ride to and from school. I always thought it somehow appropriate that the route which passed Newlyn harbour and fish market should have buses registered with the letters COD. Two of the six survive; one was in use today providing me with a very nostalgic trip out to Mousehole and back. The lack of power steering didn’t affect the ability to turn the extremely tight corners into and out of the village. With - as has always been the case - about an inch spare either side before meeting stone walled cottages. Lots more action in town attracted very good crowds but my remaining interest was another reunion. Catching a half-cab “Lodekka” out over the moors the long way round via Lanyon Quoit I was planning to get back home just ahead of another bus making a more direct trip on a later departure. We ground up the long hill to Madron in second gear. We ground up the long hill above Madron onto the moors mostly in second but with a faultless change down to first. And we ran happily along the single track road to Morvah. Another faultless change-down had had storming Nancherrow Hill (1:7) whilst leaving no-one in doubt as to our approach to St Just. And as we pulled in there was Dr SWMBO waiting. And there, right behind, was the other bus. The very one we had been gifted the use of for our wedding 28 ½ years ago. The three of us were briefly reunited before the timetable required the buses to depart and the moment had gone. 1995 2024 And a few of the other players from today starting with 672 COD - my old school bus from 1967 passing Newlyn Harbour and the bottom of my old street, then resting in Mousehole Some properly stylish travel from Royal Blue Oldest-on-parade was down from Wiltshire Buses as I knew them boy and man. Though there was never a bus station at Penzance back in the day Changing destination - always the conductor’s job And you wait all day then three come together! Late-running 15.35, followed by 15.50 and 16.00, trips from St Just back to Penzance. Each will take a different route.

And they are all dying around Cornwall thanks to some sort of disease.

Indeed. I recently purchased a pair from that entirely not-Australian chain M&S whose clothes have always reliably fitted me. Waist and leg-length were my normal sizes. They were described as "Regular fit". Knowing M&S has a sensible exchange policy I didn't bother fitting them first but took them home. Whereupon I tried to get them over my legs and up to my waist but failed by some margin. I checked the label - yes they were 38" waist / 31" leg. Allegedly. Out came the tape measure. The waistband measured just 32" fully 6" smaller than it should have been though the leg length was correct. The cut would have done justice to a stick-insect and was not to my mind "regular" even allowing for the currently-popular straight-cut styles. They went back. Most definitely not "shrinkflation" but shrinkage of some sort. Probably a mis-labelled batch, they said, as they issued my store credit voucher. I could have had a card refund but as I was still in need of a pair of strides which fitted me I took the voucher and was, within a few minutes, happily homeward-bound with a perfectly-fitting pair of black trousers in a style closer to jeans than chinos, somewhat more expensive, but perfectly acceptable nonetheless. And I wasn't charged the £20 difference in price either.

I’ll leave it to the skilled and informed judgement of ERs which of the above is the most potentially-dangerous.

Closed Wednesdays

I agree. A good 'un. I have long been a fan of, and friends with, Curry Corner atop Chapel Street in Penzance. One of the very few places in the UK where you will find a female owner / chef / cook operating an Indian take-away food business. Everything is cooked in front of you and in the shop window so you can see there is nothing to hide. I do, being brutally honest, feel her cooking has become less consistently good over the years but it's still worth a visit. New-ish on the scene is Red Chilli which is also becoming respected locally. Perhaps slightly cheaper than Taj Mahal and arguably slightly better but that could depend upon your individual taste and how things are on the day. All are within 15 - 20 minutes drive of the Distant (Signal) West meaning there is a choice of both eat-in and drive-away Indian meals close enough to hand.

And there was me thinking that was some sort of pizza delivery system covered but awaiting orders.

A little more detail recently added includes a Plastruct girder between storage and loading conveyor. This is painted black and rust with green weathering powder flicked onto the wet paint Porthgarrow has been on show today to invited members of other clubs. Along with the other layouts housed at Hayle MRC’s clubroom. That’s the second of three events this year; the third is at Carn Brea in the autumn.

Good Morning all. Welcome to the weekend. The sun is shining cheerfully but hasn’t yet switched the heater on. Last night we bade farewell to that same sun from the clifftops.

It is. And in some states it remains a capital offence. Same as barracking for supporting Collingwood 😉🤣

The ultimate taste test ( a kind of taste test Ashes) would be to compare this with the Marmite Penguin. Tim Tams and Penguins are similar in the same way that Marmite and Vegemite are similar. Only more so. They are closely similar where the two brown spreadable substances are not. Aussies will of course argue that Time Tams are better; the Brits will argue for Penguins. The formulation of the chocolate is different because for Tim Tams it has to sit on shop shelves in somewhat higher ambient temperatures than would normally be expected in British shops. Far from all are air-conditioned supermarkets; a good many local shops have a ceiling fan at best but might reach the high 40s Celsius inside. British-formulation chocolate melts in such temperatures; Tim Tams don't. Not until you hold them in a sweaty hand for some time by which time they should have been enjoyed anyway and not left warming up in your grubby mitt! I'm a Penguin person. And Marmite. You can take the boy out of Marmitia but you can't take Marmitia out of the boy.