Amor Fati

I like it when I can agree whole heartedly with this wayside pulpit on the Baptist Church, Cottingham Road. Usually they are just plain old fashion bunkum along the lines of "If God is your co-pilot change seats" that kind of religious twaddle. But here the message is clear and true, some things have to be believed to be seen, further, everything has to be believed to be seen. Even Science believes in the validity of sense data and the regularity of nature before it starts with its experimenting. But this is just Philosophy 101.

Some things, however, once seen are quite unbelievable. 

Take for example, the Vaccine ... soon to be rolled out and pushed into the welcoming arms of the nation. I have seen the claims made for it, I do not for one minute believe a word. Oh the company has legal immunity should it start killing, maiming or doing what rushed and untested medicines do.

Or the Virus, I have read loads of evidence, studied the procedures, looked at the "cases", the "deaths" and still I do not believe.

Or Face Nappies ...

Or Lock downs ...

Or Social Distancing ...

Or Track and Trace ... this evil device rings you up and tells you your phone has come close to another phone with the lurgy (Turn off Bluetooth! ) and so you must isolate for a fortnight, so you cancel all appointments that have taken months to arrange due the Stupidity, close your business, prepare for hard times ... only two days later Track and Trace ring to say it was all a mistake ... this is a true story. Un-f*******-believable!

Or protecting the NHS ... let me tell a harrowing tale I heard yesterday from a friend of a friend whose mother-in-law died of undiagnosed cancer week or so ago. Undiagnosed because face-to-face GP visits only happen after telephone triage and this old lady somehow failed to get through the system. Her breast cancer spread up to her shoulder and neck ... anybody out there who has read Cancer Ward by Solzhenitsyn (it's not for the faint hearted) will  know what I talking about ... Just last week I had to go through several impassible hoops to see the GP mano a mano, first I ring up, no chance of even a phone triage appointment this week, hmmph so I lay on the agony and say the magic words "official complaint" and they go off to see what they can do, meanwhile I ring the NHS Healthline (I think there were ten binary choices mostly C-19 related before I spoke to a person) and they listened and say I should see a Doc ASAP (Hah! they, however, can email the surgery with this advice) ... a while later I get a call, the Doc will call me , he does, he listens, he fixes an appointment for that very evening and the process of getting a diagnosis was started ... we all know the long term prognosis, it's just a matter of time (Tic-Toc). You can see how frail old ladies who do not know how to push and  lever the system, indeed have never needed to, will just simply die by the wayside. They probably are thinking they can just turn up at the surgery and wait as in the bad old days ... Meanwhile, I do not know anyone who has died of or with, alongside or even in the same room as Covid-19 and only know of one person who has managed to test positive with the False RT-PCR test. (His verdict is that he thought it was a bad cold and was not at all bothered about it, so why get tested? but see below about People ). This huge leap backward is going on all across the country. Unbelievable in this day and age ... but at least the NHS is being protected, Gawd bless it!

Or anything any politician says ... weasel words we expect, a year of mendacity and manipulation, illegal, illiberal seizures of our liberties deserve the attentions of a "national razor". So today (December 2) we leave a notional national lockdown (honestly has anybody paid it any attention?) to go into a Tiers system, (cue cries of "it will all end in tiers" and so on). They just changed the locks on the prison doors. We are to be in the top tier 3 based on Hull and Hereabouts having the highest "case" rate in the country (somebody has to) back in the middle of November. It matters not that now the "rate" has fallen by 40%, no that "fall" will count as the "tiers" working ... 

Ah! ça ira, ça ira, ça ira
les aristocrates à la lanterne!
Ah! ça ira, ça ira, ça ira
les aristocrates on les pendra!
 

Now where was I? Oh yes, people ...

Or people in general ... they are unbelievably gullible (I was going to say thick, yeah OK, thick will do it, stupid ...)  and victims of their own gullibility. They have the Faith, they believe in the Virus, they believe in the Test. They cry out for the Vaccine (so we are told), they believe all the precautions are vital, they demand all this and beg for more... and they will not be shaken from it.  Folk ("Wackos") like me are a threat to them somehow, we anger them because we do not share their fear. Never trust the People.

Or the Police ... no-one with an ounce of self-preservation would ever believe anything the police say. They  are too busy with fads to police the Law, allowing some demos not others, arbitrarily arresting people, illegally detaining people on their way to a demo (this seemed to shock youngsters but they would not recall the Miners' Strike back in the 80s when this was common practice) the usual garbage we come to expect from the boys in blue, at least they do not have guns or they'd shoot themselves.  Indeed, many do not even know what the Law is at present (indeed, who does?).

But now I'm rambling on and becoming like a silly old man shaking his fist at the sky ... but I've been away a while and I ain't coming back anytime soon, so ...

Or Global Warming ... 

Or Net Zero ...

Or the EU ...

Or China on the UNHRC ...(satire is long dead)

Or Biden won cleanly, fairly and legally ... it seems the wheel's still in spin on this one. I likes me a nice dirty, corrupt election, so I do. It shows where the powers really lie and clearly it's not with the electorate. But this is not my problem, so I don't care, no, really.

Or BLM ... yeah, right.

Or Antifa lalalala ... likewise.

Or Transphobia ... "people who menstruate", I mean really, come on?

Or MSM (Defund the BBC!) ...

Or adverts for coffee ... or any adverts, of course, but coffee adverts are the pits.

Or ridiculous blogs like this ... enough, let's have done with it, why keep dragging on with rubbish?

 

But fairies at the bottom of the garden are quite cute ...

“Mit der Dummheit kämpfen Götter selbst vergebens.”

 

I admit I haven't been paying attention to the news, the local news, any news, or Twitter or such like for a week or so, so when I wandered across to the local rag's site and was informed that this town had the highest number of "cases" in the country ... "by along way" was the sub-headline... my reaction was not one of great despond but more "Gosh and golly the old city of culture finally caught up with the nonsense that has been going on around parts of the world". This backwater has always lagged behind fashions by a year or so so this was pretty quick catching up, also the somewhat cynical thought passed through my mind that maybe there's Government money to be had from being so infected... "Oh save us and forgive us, Fat Controller, for we have sinned!"

Still, I wonder, how do they know this fascinating snippet? Why by testing, dear boy. 

But where are folk being tested? In places like this on Inglemire Lane, do try to keep up... 

So with so many new "cases", and new "cases" being but a small percentage of those tested, there must be lots and lots of folk being tested, then?

So how come, there is never anybody either going in or coming out of this place when I go past? Erm, no comment ...

I ask only to be informed.

You think I'm making this up, that I have some agenda ... frankly I don't give a damn, it's your game and I am most definitely not playing.

Government figures are for, I think, half a million tests per day, and I read this comes out at 150 tests per hour per testing station assuming a twelve hour working day, over two a minute... it's just not happening here or at many other testing stations. 

There has always been a Big Lie at the heart of this year's stupidity and it spawns smaller lies along the way to keep it afloat.

Oh then I read there are plans for "mass testing" of the stupid folk of Hull (what was the testing before then? ) anyhow this is with a brand new test, quicker and easier, and can be (and probably will be) administered by a squaddy on his day off ... the reward for going through this is 14 days house arrest if you get a "positive" result. So why would anyone with any sense put themselves through this? It's madness.  

Did I mention that we are supposed to be under yet another lockdown, the first having worked so well a second was the obvious choice ... naturally I am ignoring it, this time many others seems to be doing likewise. It's supposed to end December 2 but you watch it will be back next year, complete with new models of new plagues and the hope of a vaccine for the totally insane...

Anyhow the whole thing is boring and as someone once said even Gods struggle in vain against boredom.

.... and I seem to have forgotten that wise maxim of never believe anything you read in the papers... catch you later... possibly much later.

The End

 

 

 

 

The weekend in black and white is here.

A penny for the Old Guy

 

In November 1605 a plot to blow up Parliament and the king was thwarted due to the incompetence of the conspirators, betrayal and plain bad luck. Anyhow the guys involved were not champions of individual freedom and liberty, far from it, they wanted to restore the Catholic Church, domination by mainland Europe (France or Spain, I forget which but it matters little at this distance), Popery and all that crap. If it sounds familiar well maybe there are only so many stories in the world and indeed the EU is uncannily like the Holy Roman Empire and it took Napoleon to end that farce. Anyhow every year, in England, celebrations mark the narrow escape from Papish rule with bonfires and fireworks, but things ain't what they used to be ...

Up until around the turn of the century all of October would resound to fireworks going off, bangers and rockets. I recall in the 60s and 70s kids would make Guys, life size dolls in  the costume of Guy Fawkes, stuffed with paper and go begging for a "Penny for the Guy" in order to buy fireworks. The Guy would end up on a garden bonfire, it was all very pagan. I haven't seen a Guy for so long I've forgotten when it was. Now as for fireworks, you were I think, supposed to be sixteen to buy them, but we all knew shops, little shops, like the one above, where the mister would sell you a packet of bangers or jumping jacks for a bob, no questions asked. Then, well then along came the Great Interference, the we know better than you brigade, the soi-dissant "caring" children-shouldn't-be-out-enjoying-themselves-they-might-get-hurt-battalions, smothered all of this in a suffocating blanket of puritanical cant ... ironically these neo-puritans killed off the very celebrations of their escape from Catholic conformity. 

It was the Blair years that led to the rise of these busy-bodying nosey-parkers that has led inexorably to the present farce-fascism of locking us all up for our own good. All done, as I indicated, under the ruse of health measures, so no smoking in pubs (killed off the pubs), banning the sale of strong beers (affected small off-licences and shops), a sugar tax on fizzy drinks pushed vile artificial sweeteners onto the poor and as somebody said only fat people drink diet coke. I won't go on about the same mindset that "cares" about the "climate" and wants to tax meat and make us all to eat nuts and raisins and grass and I mention only in passing that wonder of wonders, straight out of the Inquisition ... the "hate crime" ... I cannot, in the space allowed, pour enough contempt upon these manipulative, mendacious, maliciously evil, yes, evil, people. If you are one of them or have fallen for this switched morality where everything weak is praised and all that was good is now evil, I despise you with a passion. You negate life, you would drag us down because you are in decline, you are the opposite of human, you are death.

Lockdown v2.0 will kill off what is left of our pubs and take with it many cafés and restaurants and small businesses in their money-making run up to Christmas, only the big supermarkets and the online traders will be left ... that seems to be the plan, if, indeed, there is a plan. England has been deliberately dulled, made utterly compliant (where is the nascent populism of the Brexit years? that, too, may be part of the plan all along, to kill populism in Europe and the US ... it was never about a poxy virus, ever!) so much so that one almost wishes for a modern day Guido to succeed and bring back Popery, incense, idolatry and jumping-jacks ...

The Class of 2020

This year's graduates are the usual noisy, raucous bunch, with no manners or respect for their elders.

This one graduated with first class honours.

Herring gulls take four years to sexually mature and become completely white on the head so this one is probably a three year old and still has a lot to learn. The oldest recorded herring gull was forty nine years old.

"Dewey defeats Trum ..."

It seems that there is another quarrel in a far away country, between people of whom we know nothing. Folk out there are in a tizzy over whether to paint the ends of their eggs blue or to paint them red. Quite why this should interest the Mainstream Manipulators in this country so much I cannot imagine since our paintbrushes don't reach that far, indeed those guys have stolen our paint (and our eggs). But nevertheless there is a morbid fascination in seeing which dead or dying horse will pass the line first; my money, for what it's worth, is on the red though the prize seems increasingly small.

The picture was taken by Margot K Juby and then ruined by me.

In the beginning was nonsense...

Atlas must have been a pretty dull fellow, sent off, as he was, by Zeus, to the end of the world to keep the Heavens aloft forever. Did it not occur to him to ask how did the Heavens manage before he came along? I wonder if, after a few eternities, he thought: "What happens if I take one hand off, or both, ...hey up the sky's not falling, D'oh ... Oi Zeus you bastard!" ... but by then Zeus was dead, like all the gods, probably died laughing thinking of poor old Atlas Telamon. Eternal Atlas is now reduced to being a hotel sign holding not the celestial bodies but a battered globe on a windy corner of a small Norfolk town.

I've posted this little Titan before but the myths are always worth revisiting, as this delight is worth a new coat of paint and some tlc and maybe a tea break.

But who is stronger than death?

They bury you when you go and die

It ain't that in their hearts they're bad
They can comfort you, some even try
They nurse you when you're ill of health
They bury you when you go and die

*

In mid-November 1875 a fleet of fishing boats was heading from Lowestoft back home to Fife at the end of the herring season when they were caught in storm and five boats were lost. Thirty two men were drowned and of them only eight were found, washed up on the Norfolk shore. Here they lie with this unique memorial, paid for by public subscription, among the kind folk of King's Lynn and surroundings... It stands as a memorial to the close links between the fishing communities of Scotland and Norfolk.

This is in Hardwick Road cemetery, a place that could have a whole blog to itself never mind a single post . Later perhaps. The cold details of this fine memorial are here.

 

It ain't that in their hearts they're bad
They'd stick by you if they could
But that's just bullshit baby
People just ain't no good

                                                Nick Cave

The theme for City Daily Photo ... (I know, I was told there would be no more theme days, we were all told a lot of things this year that weren't necessarily so) ... is kindness. It's reckoned we could all do with more of it, I know some who could do with a lot less.

Both photos by Margot K Juby who is always kind.

The Devil's Hill

 Quosdam daemones quos dusios Galli Nuncipant

                                                                          St Austin

I've shown Pilot Street before, it runs alongside St Nicholas Chapel until it is abruptly terminated by some of that modern housing I mentioned the other day. Clearly it has been abridged at some point and the new John Kennedy Road cut through and taken it over  but it used to run as far as the junction with Loke Road. I found the following on a Facebook group showing almost the same view as above from I'm guessing late 1950s very early 1960s, all the right hand side buildings are gone as is the chapel on the left with the road sign. What now looks picturesque and tree filled was once very domestic and gritty. But we are not here to gawp at pretty things ...

 

The street is ancient, at least 14^th century possibly much, much older and back then had a different name, Dowshill Street. In those days the sea was practically knocking on Lynn's door and just to the north of the borough was a wild and "dreary, unfrequented spot", most likely there were sand dunes, the History of the Borough of  King's Lynn refers to "the sands of Lenn at Dusehill". The same source gives evidence of a belief in malicious spirits, that the region to the north of the borough was "the abode of hobgoblins, sprites, and other indescribable monsters" (quite possibly still is) and that even the Loke was named after the supreme evil one of the Norsemen, Loke or Loki. The name Dowshill, it is thereby claimed, comes from the ancient northern European word duus or dusiens  or  deuce or as we say these days, the Devil.

So what I can tell you about what is known of Dowshill and its street. Old maps and records show a bridge over a fleet at the north end (now called the Fisher Fleet but then known as Dowshill Fleet). It is thought that there was a saltern at this point, where brine was boiled to make salt, no doubt adding to its devilish aura. The Corporation built canals off the fleet so that ships could moor at merchants' houses. It became so popular that local ship owners complained they could not moor their own boats due to the presence of large foreign vessels in the creek. An ordinance was issued saying the creek was for local ships.

The bridge had a gate on it for defense and gate keepers were appointed every year. So, for example, we find in 1403 John Groute was appointed keeper of Douz Hill Yard.

By the mid 18th century, however, the fleet had fallen into disrepair and the Corporation was sued by a merchant named Turner for not cleansing the creek. The judge , one Lord Mansfield, using quite bizarre logic, affirmed that as the Corporation's charter did not include a prescription to carry out the cleansing no such duty existed (even though they had done so for centuries) and further that what had been used as a public right of way (the creek) was in fact private property (it was never stated who it belonged to). This, I'm told,  was a unique judgement in English Law, the absence of a claim it was public was enough to make it private ...

18^th and 19^th century engineering gradually eased the river bank westwards and marshes to the north were drained, the sea retreated a couple of miles to the north, the Enlightenment reached even wildest Norfolk and the Devil's Hill lost its fears, until in 1809, King's Lynn renamed a lot of streets and Dowshill Street became Pilot Street complete with a Pilot's House. 

Let the sunshine in

 On Ferry Street this garage cum car park is best described as a little al fresco.

Something completely different

 I always keep all three of them turning, you can't be too careful.

 

The weekend in black and white is turning heads here.

Teacup: storms in

 

Back in February this year, before the world went mad, someone took offence to the bells of St Nicholas Chapel. Seemed bell ringers had moved there to practice while St Margaret's was being repaired or some such story making too much campanological disturbance ... They only went and sprayed what you see here, and yes, it was still there in October (now slow yew down ...). I don't know if they caught the culprit but I did come across another story about poor old St Nick and his bells. Someone was irate that the bells no longer chimed the correct time, this guy liked the bells, for a change, indeed he had done away with clocks and watches and relied on the chapel to tell the time and was not too impressed with only ten chimes at midnight ... the Council, I read, were looking into it having only just found that they were responsible, I quote "... regarding that law, you learn something new every day!” You do indeed.

Homes ancient and modern

 

The area around St Nicholas chapel was cleared of its quaint little buildings and yards, OK it was a quasi slum as you can see from the old photo below taken from the roof of the chapel many years ago (thank you internet; I don't know the date but clearly back when everything was black and white and smokey). You don't just demolish buildings but a whole community as well, hence the museum to try and keep some memory of it alive. Anyhow modern housing has been built to replace what was removed. It seems to be weathering in nicely, though I doubt they'll build a museum to it.

 

 

Most of the houses, chapels, schools, small businesses and yards in the foreground have gone but those terraced houses way off in the distance are still there around Loke Road. The graveyard trees are also still there as you can see above.

What's in a name? ...

I was going to write how this was St Anne's House on St Anne's Street and how some folk think a secret passage runs from here to the Exorcist's House over on the other side of St Nicholas Chapel. That was until I found that this is not really St Anne's House after all but the house next door to St Anne's and that the echt St Anne's House was demolished way back. Anyhow it still a fine façade but perhaps a bit too twee for my taste. The building is split into apartments some of which are for sale I notice. (I suspect that this building got called St Anne's House by estate agents wanting to make a buck ...) I found a picture of the real St Anne's House and why shouldn't I paste it here ... and if you want to know more try here.

The site of this old house is now a fine Elizabethan car park.

... and finally to top off the post, as it were, there's an owl automaton, complete with swivelling head, atop the Georgian pile; I'm told it's a bird scarer.

An alley off Hextable Road, King's Lynn

 

Hextable, in case you were wondering is "a pleasant place to live, it is an attractive rural village surrounded by beautiful Green Belt. The village is inside the M25 in north west Kent in the Sevenoaks District..." and no, I've never heard of it except here in Lynn, it wins the obscure street name award for October.

The Grain Silo, King's Lynn

You simply cannot have posts about King's Lynn without at least one featuring the rather tall concrete grain silo that towers above north Lynn by the docks. I read that it has recently been refurbished (how?) and that it has 40  bins inside it and that it is just perfect for storing grain which I suppose is what it was built for. I also read that peregrine falcons nest on top so I'll keep an eye out. When I first came to this place they used to put a Xmas tree with lights on top so Santa could see where he was going (ho ho ho) but I'm told that now they don't, something to do with health and safety. Also back then the building on the far right used to be a pub, the Victoria, but we didn't go in it for some reason, can't think why not, we went in all the others.

The other side of the world

 

Plonked in the middle of the King's Lynn shopping centre is this globe. I suppose it to be bronze but you never can tell. Quite why it's there I don't know, perhaps someone discovered that this spot between Sainsbury's and T.K.Maxx was the very omphalus of creation and just had to mark the spot. Who knows? Reason not the need, eh? It's been there long enough for Cornwall to have disappeared.

Old Buoys, King's Lynn

 

 

 

The Weekend in Black and White is here.

Now slow yew down ma ole booty

A warning sign on the Loke near the Long Pond. Someone taking the initiative, good to see.

Photos by  Margot K Juby

1749 and all that

Today's post bring us four hundred years forward from the 14^th century medieval to the 18^th century and the Enlightenment (I wonder what happened to that?). St Nicholas chapel has several gates which are never locked as far as I know. These however are the finest of the bunch with this fancy wrought iron decoration. I struggled at first to see what the number was until I read this gate was installed in 1749 when it all became clear(ish). I'm going to guess that somebody came into a tidy sum and wanted to pave the way to eternal salvation with a gift of fine iron work (from iron gates to the pearly gates), well I hope it was worth it. The design is secular and not sacred, we have clearly moved a long way from Old Nick creeping out of the brickwork to these floral scrolls.

These gates, indeed all the gates and boundary walls of St Nick's are considered listed buildings of historical and architectural interest, they have their own listing quite apart from the building itself.

Though I'm sure 1749 was filled with exciting and important events the only one of any importance is that the first recorded game of baseball was played at Kingston-upon-Thames. I don't who won but you can be sure the game was fixed (Say it ain't so, Joe!) as the Prince of Wales was playing. Britain, with George II as king, a man who could barely speak English, was up to its colonial expansion as usual in North America and India. This was then considered a good thing but has recently been declared to be a bad thing by those who decide these matters, mainly liberal, white, middle class, wet behind the ears, woke, EU-remainer, eco-fearing, bedwetting pro-maskers and assorted lock down loonies employed (if that is the word) in Universities and other publicly funded sinecures mainly, but by no means exclusively, the BBC. 

Oh and all you vaxxers (who wait so patiently, peace be upon you), can celebrate the birth of your hero and saviour Edward Jenner on May 17 of this fine year. Jenner it was who started us on the path to eradicating smallpox. If you want and have the security clearance you can go see vials of smallpox held in secure vaults, you could weigh some out if they let you. Your friendly Sars-Cov-2 lacks all such tangible properties, never having been isolated, purified or indeed been anything other than an RNA profile in a Chinese publication and yet each day hundreds of thousands of 'tests' are performed to find the presence of something completely unsubstantiated (The Fat Controller even admits 93% are false positives! 93%! He has no shame but then this year's attacks on liberty have had nothing to do with the 'virus'). Millions of you have overturned, thrown out without a thought, three centuries of Enlightenment and science and become fearful of miasmas and fanciful tales of horror spread by old wives in the press, the TV and, yes, Government. You, like penitents of medieval times, welcome, indeed crave, the punishment of lock downs and the hair shirts of face nappies, you have sinned and you deserve it. Well, shame on you, you ought to know better.

Stepped buttresses

Buttresses are very common, almost ubiquitous, on church buildings of this age, we are talking a complete rebuild between 1371 and 1419 so, of course St Nick's has its share. They strengthen the wall and hold up the roof trusses preventing them from pushing out the walls. Between each buttress there's a window to let in the light and also a glass window weighs less than solid  stone or brick so keeping building's weight and costs down (every little helps). Obviously a tall spire needs supporting and good buttresses do the job.

In this picture you can see the second doorway on the north side. Behind this wall a pitched roof leads to the clerestory which to my regret I haven't got a good picture except for a slight peek in the one below. (This picture shows the clerestory from the other side). The clerestory is supported by internal pillars as I showed way back in this post.

Now no doubt you'll be delighted to hear that to all intents and purposes the church is  symmetrical so the south side looks much like the north save for a porch that I mentioned yesterday and the base of the spire.

...and I've just realised that this was rebuilt some twenty years after the Black Death killed a third to half the population of England, no taking silly test tests to see if you had the lurgy back then, no godforesaken masks either just: Attishu, attishu, we all fall down. No doubt twenty years from now they'll still be waiting for their precious vaccine while face masks will have become implanted hermetically at birth along with health passports courtesy of the Gates Foundation...

The west door, St Nicholas, King's Lynn

From Historic England "The elaborately carved door surround comprises a pointed-arch terminating in figurative head corbels, and containing two cusped door openings separated by a Y-tracery trumeau (mirroring the arrangement of the window tracery above), and two early-C15 doors (restored in 2012)". Now having read that you'll no doubt want to see the window tracery  ...

 

Such a fancy ornamented doorway with heraldic shields and beasts was clearly the main entrance at one time but not now, now you go in via porch way on the southern side... and I suppose you'll want to see the figurative head corbels or at least one of them; t'other is just a mess of eroded stone.

... to round off the day how about a pair of angels?

this one could do with a little restoration.

I can't let you go without posting this handsome chap; Old Nick himself creeping out of the stonework.

Figurative Heads, King's Lynn

On our way home from town we wandered around St Nicholas chapel which I've shown many times. This time we walked around the north side which for some reason we'd not visited. There'll be a few posts about this for the next couple of days so if 14^th century English church architecture is not your cup of tea you have been warned.

The people who detail listed buildings, Historic England, say the following about this doorway, "The north aisle has two late-C14 doorways: that in the second bay having a pointed arch, and carved figurative heads to the corbels of the hood moulding...", concise, dull but accurate and there's not really a lot more to say so I'll quit while I'm ahead.

The Lamp Shop, King's Lynn

Railway Road in King's Lynn does not as you might think head to the railway, no, it runs teasingly close but keeps away from the station and the tracks. Someone will know why it's called Railway Road but that should not detain us. On a corner of said road, with Portland Street (which FYI does run to the station), sits a little shop that sells lighting stuff and, at night , is all lit up like someone else is paying the bill. Naturally your fearless correspondent took a few pictures for the record.

 

Ceci n'est pas un ...

England it seems has been split into three tiers by the increasingly Caesar-like Fat Controller and I agree. Tier one is all those who thought this is Sars-Cov-2, you have been soaking in the tepid bath of mass media brainwash for far too long, you almost certainly believe in Santa Claus, wear a mask when you brush your teeth, for you there is nothing but an interminable wait for the FC to smile on you and say "You may now take the vaccine and be free". Tier two is those who say no, this is a sea urchin, you mistake the image for reality, you too will fall for the three-card-trick, you think you know the science behind it and can follow the model, you want lockdowns and face masks because you think they work but you complain when your local store closes, for good, and your hairdresser can't fix your curls; for you there is no hope. Tier three has you clever clogs, who have more sense to fall for this nonsense, you say this a mere image, a manipulated collection of dots designed to mislead and be used as propaganda by an old fool, you should go far, but then you're far too clever to be reading this...

This is a detail of something I posted earlier just as the world fell into a madness from which it has not recovered.

King Street, King's Lynn

 

Here's King Street connecting Tuesday Market Place to the Purfleet and the Customs House. Many of the buildings here are listed and medieval in origin with what were considered, back in the day, fashionable Georgian façades, some have clearly had an extra story or two plonked on top. It's a marvellous street to wander down.  Somehow I can't see that bluey-white building getting planning permission these days ("You want to build a big white, square topped thing? On our precious King Street!") yes it stands out and yet it doesn't jar overly. This is just one side, the other is as good, trust me. Good job then that town planners and their dull schemes are Johnnies-come-lately, how did we ever manage without them?

If it's Tuesday

As part of the new national sport of shivying people around there is clearly a need for signs. We haven't quite got to the "Fat Controller is watching you" stage but it can only be a matter of time. There are plenty of keep your distance stickers now fading on the pavements, and shops still have their little arrows for one-way shopping (it never caught on, people forget stuff go back and around, it's only natural; I made a point of going the wrong way round every shop; no-one said anything...) Anyhow here's a really useful sign that informs the unwary that the market on Tuesdays will be held on the Tuesday Market place (gosh! really?); what it doesn't say is that the market has been held there since at least since the days of good King Henry (he of the six wives) and a silly little fakedemic ain't gonna change nothing... It all makes work for the working man to do.

Actually in Tuesday Market Place there are some new-to-me seats celebrating local entrepreneur and thrice Lord Mayor of Lynn, Frederick Savage. I think they may have umbrella shades in them when the sun shines. I tried it for comfort and I'd say about a 7 out of 10.

Here again is the Duke's Head and St Nick's chapel poking up in the back.

And finally because I'll probably never get another chance to post it is a picture of some street signs.