Gwiwer

"Password must contain at least one special character" 🖕 Is not acceptable.

13,000 pages of friendly support, informed drivel and gastronomic delights! Well done all. 👏 👏 Why not have a walking thread? I already admin a Farcebook group for the South West Coast Path https://www.facebook.com/groups/1580784368659585 (13,000 members) and am a member of another for walking Britain's coast. I have "clocked up" quite a few miles around the inlands of southern England and North Wales / Gogledd Cymru as well. There are perfectly good if rather pointless paths from Berney Arms station but as you say the pub is long closed and unlikely to reopen so it's a fair old hike for the sake of it if you go. In other news it's time for His Furship's annual Roadworthy - first time at a new vet as the previous occasion was before we moved. I wonder how he'll take to that. He doesn't much like change. Nor car trips. This morning's tragic and regrettable events in Hainault will draw no further comment from me beyond noting that the sword-wielding offender was taken down by a taser.

Dr. SWMBO has safely returned from her day in Paris and is back in her London-area digs. I can go to bed now. G'night all.

That sounds incredibly familiar. It was 2002 not the 1980s but I was travelling on the Hunter Valley train from Newcastle to Maitland when exactly that happened - two Transits boarded and found every fault they could with ticketing. Including ordering two children of about 12 years of age off the train at fairly remote Sandgate station (where not all trains stop) at gun-point. What sort of impression does that give? And what sort of adults will kids subjected to that treatment become? The poor mites had tickets but for some technicality they were not valid on that train on that day at that moment in time. Or perhaps their faces just didn't fit. Or some other spurious and lacking in duty-of-care reason. I was not impressed. Luckily I was carrying my staff ID and all-states travel authority which they decided was all in order despite them being Victorian not New South Welsh.

I am OK with a sensible discussion around police and firearms. I don't see it as a argument in the sense of protagonists at ten paces. I do respect the sentiments around the recent events at Bondi Junction mall which is most regrettable and extremely uncommon in Australia. However whilst the officer who discharged her weapon did so in direct response to events and the ongoing threat it may well have been that a taser (had one been available) might also have brought the shooter down. Many UK police are issued with the non-lethal taser, or can be issued with them if they are likely to face disorder on duty which might require their use. They are considered non-lethal weapons of defence not lethal weapons of force. Victims are disabled instantly and for such time as it takes to secure them and remove them from the scene. A clear shot at close range is required - unlike a gunshot which requires a clear shot but can be deployed at much greater distances - but their efficiency at ending violent confrontations is not in doubt. I am all in favour of police (anywhere) carrying sufficient items to protect themselves and to prevent an ongoing and immediate threat to others. That does not by any means imply they should carry firearms. In response to the suggestion that British railway stations are patrolled by sub-machine-gun toting police that is not true. St. Pancras International has a few such officers localised to the international arrivals / departures area because it is a port of entry. Otherwise it is the unarmed British Transport Police who are responsible for all railway premises. They - at their discretion - may invite the local force for example the Metropolitan Police in London to assist them but Met Police officers will only patrol stations in response to a direct security threat. They did that in recent times when the UK national security threat level was raised to Critical as it was likely that a railway station would be targeted. They were stood down when the threat level was lowered. I spent the last six years of my working life at one of the busiest stations in the country, just outside two major London terminals and on the direct route to Gatwick Airport. It was (and is) a Category A list location and is considered high-risk because of its strategic importance and connectivity to other places. We very seldom saw police on patrol. The BTP had a base there but it was not continuously attended. The response required from staff in the event of need was to call 999; the emergency operator would either direct the call to the BTP or, should it require a level of response they could not provide, would assign Met Police whilst notifying the BTP of events. We called the police around once a year. Mostly to unruly passengers. Only once was there a suspicious package which could not be ascertained under station protocols to be safe; the Met Police were there within 90 seconds of the call and declared it safe within 3 minutes. Without guns or sniffer robots and without the need to close and evacuate more than the immediate 400m radius. That is policing by consent.

CCTV yes; dash-cam no.

Welcome one and all to a wet, windy and cold Moan-day. It began slowly as there has been no need to rush about today. Dr. SWMBO is in Paris on business. She left here yesterday afternoon, a day earlier than usual, and was aboard the 8.01 Eurostar from St. Pancras having made a very ER start indeed from her digs SW of London by minicab. She returns on the last train tonight which will make it a very long day for her. Having dropped her off at the statin I took the opportunity of negotiating the Sainsbury's Grand Prix which, for a Sunday afternoon, wasn't at all bad. Everything on the list was available except ghee. I can probably get that another time; I don't need it every day nor even every week. I then came home and came face to face with C0ckwomble Driver No.1. Heading over the moors on that hilly and winding road the oncoming bus had stopped at a rural farm lane to set down a passenger. Two cars were behind; the first came around with plenty of room to spare and the second waited. As the driver would have been unable to see anything at all around the bus due to the curvature and hills I expected they would stay waited. But no. I was perhaps a bus-length away from coming past when out he came, into my lane, with me approaching at a cautious 45mph. I hit brakes, horn and headlights all at the same time and stopped in short order only to see a green something cut sharply into the fast-closing gap with an erect middle finger poking from the driver's window in my general direction. I really MUST get that idiot-cam fitted because if it had been recording I would have had his plate and referred him to the local constabulary. Who are running a "send us your dash-cam footage of dodgy driving" campaign and publishing the results online. After safely stowing the shopping and quaffing a muggercoffy I hopped aboard the Coaster bus for a breezy trip around Lands End to Porthcurno and back. A nice enough way to end the daylight hours even if it was a bit cool. I was impressed at the numbers using the service; we picked up and set down quite a few ones and twos in all sorts of places from the larger Sennen Cove to the remote farm laneways leading off to who knows where. Porthcurno itself produced a fascinating view of light and shade which I felt obliged to record for posterity.

Plus Police/Law Enforcement - it's unfair to expect them to go up against the baddies with guns. Having lived in nations where policing is by consent and where policing is by big stick (in reality if not in the letter of law) I prefer the British Way. Most police are not armed with offensive weapons in the UK; those who carry firearms do so only in response to specific and credible threats against person(s) or in very high security situations such as the close personal protection teams or international security at ports of entry / exit. I suspect most police members (if that is how they currently prefer to be known) would not wish that to change. The average PC does not seek to carry lethal force neither is it needed 99% of the time. For the 1% they can call up the ARV who will tool up as the situation demands but otherwise might be on routine - unarmed - patrol. ARVs carry gun safes; the officers are not themselves armed until they receive the authority from above. Australian police all routinely carry loaded weapons. The threat of force is always there. Policing should be by consent but to a greater extent than exists in the UK it is policing by threat of lethal force. I never felt comfortable seeing cops on traffic duties with one hand raised to direct motor traffic and the other on their weapon. It never felt comfortable seeing "neighbourhood" police patrolling streets and shopping malls also with one hand glued to a weapon. I prefer to feel comfortable that the police are there as defenders rather than feeling awkward and that they are potentially aggressors. To each their own. It's probably "what you grew up with" but I was taught that the police are friends. Friends do not carry loaded weapons in my book. It speaks volumes that the UK remains extremely safe with very low rates of gun crime, substantially low rates of knife crime (acknowledging there are localised issues with certain sections of the community here and there carrying blades) and where one can feel safe on the streets day and night. Force met with force can escalate into a spiral of attrition. The last thing we need is police routinely armed in the UK; that will surely lead to the criminal element tooling up in response.

As opposed to "I am the seagull - you are the target" as happens all too often.

Better than working for a large illegal firm I s'pose 🤣

Here's a few of my efforts with Ratio plastic kits and later square-section rodding. Including a facing point lock fitted and part-rodded. The rodding cranks beneath the platform and beneath the board crossing by the signalbox. Each part - some of them tiny - is separate.

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.