A Gated Community....

It has come to my attention that there are plans afoot to erect gates at both the Butcher's Row and Market Street entrance to the Pannier Market which will be locked up during the evening and night or when the market is not in use. In effect this means blocking off a part of a public highway and a thoroughfare that has been in existence since the existing old part of the town was laid out in medieval times. This road was initially the end of market street and the pannier market was built over the top of it some one hundred and fifty years ago, hundreds of years after it was originally laid out.
The reckoning behind this is that it will thwart bands of drunken brigands from marauding through the market of an evening causing untold thousands of pounds worth of damage per anumn by their acts of vandalism and urination and as condoms were once discovered I dare say copulation. Who'd have thought it. People weeing in the market and walking through there after a few drinks. Barum what's it coming to? Going to the dogs, at least that's what some people would have you believe. Of course, as a local lad who grew up in the town centre all I have to say is so what. Is it really a problem that requires such a draconian measure, closing off an ancient public highway, in order to resolve it.

To my mind these sort of nocturnal activities have been going on in this area for generations and generations. I dread to think what occurred in that part of town on market days in the 18th century, when Barum was a thriving port and when it wasn't only the farmers who bought there wares into town. I myself recall as a kid all sorts of things taking place in the rather insalubrious environs of the Market Street toilets and of an evening we local guttersnipes and tearaways would use the place as our sports hall playing British bulldog and that age old game of wellying a ball as hard as possible off the walls and off each other. I recall that it was also used as car park which provided rich pickings from chrome auto decals.

It is an ancient public space and should in these days of the privatization of urban centres it should remain so. Green Lanes shopping centre is locked at night but it shouldn't be really as it was built over the old Green Lane and this was another ancient thouroughfare. The people who manage the space also have the right to turn people away as I found out the other day when I was escorted out of Wilco's.

If such people whose solution to age old problems seems to be to lock things up, turn people away and gate themselves in and others out really want to continue with this sort of action why don't they just go the whole hog and petition the council to re-instate the old town gates. That should solve the problem of anti-social behaviour Instead of them existing these days solelyin the names of chain pubs and dodgy motels they could be resurrected. This would not only appease the store holders concerns, but also would satisfy those of us with an interest in our heritage and it would also provide
a tough sentence for those ne'r do wells who continue to flout the law, they could do their community service breaking rocks for the new gatehouses. That should make 'em think twice before the have a quick waz behind the telephone box in the pannier market.

Autumn Watch - a Comorant or a Shag? That is the question.

A majestic looking cormorant. Or is it a shag?

While meandering along the banks of the River Yeo this morning alongside Pilton Park I couldn't help but notice what I assumed to be a cormorant preening himself on a pebbly island just beneath Pilton Bridge. He cut quite a sight, spreading his wings to dry them in the early morning sunlight. He'd also caused quite a stir amoung the local duck population as they were raising a right old quack obviously rather put out by his presence, this seemed to bring in all the ducks from around about as there was a steady stream of them paddling indignantly up the river to see what all the fuss was about.
The thing is once one person stops to peer over Pilton Bridge everyone else who passes by follows suit and being pension day the bridge was quite busy and after only a few moments there was a fair old crowd of our local old folk with nothing much better to do at this time of day, looking out over at the melee that was going on below.
One chap who must have been in his nineties claimed that he knew the bird in question and that at this time of year it was always to be found in this part of the river. I've often seen them off the Longbridge and out on the sandbanks in the estuary, but not this far up in Pilton. However, on this particular matter I bowed to his seniority and conviction. Fair enough bey, whom I to question that? But I must say I think he was wrong when he insisted on calling it a shag. I told him time and time again I thought it was a cormorant the woman who sits outside the Almshouses was passing by and she overheard our debate which was getting quite heated by now and she proceeded to throw her oar in by saying that they were one and the same.
Well, I told 'em there's only one way to find out and that is to e-mail that Bill Oddie. So I told them that was what I was determined to do to settle the argument so after telling them I'd be back directly I am now in the Library waiting for Bill's response.

AAh hah, Bill has got back to me in super quick time I thought he would as I have often had cause to consult him on assorted ornithological matters over the years.
Well it seems old Missus Passmore from the Almshouses is right they are indeed one and the same species of bird.They are both of the family Phalacrocoracidae of which there are two species in the UK, one has a crest and one doesn't. Apparently, there has been attempts to separate the two by calling one shags and the other cormorants but this was abandoned. So there you go. Bill also added that the collective noun for shags and cormorants is a wreck. Cheers Bill, lovely chap and a veritable mine of information when it comes to birding matters

Bleddy heck I reckon it's abit fresh this morning

Pilton

San Francisco... twin towns now

I just come back from young Bob Cobley's place, just now and as I was ambling through the church yard I couldn't fail to notice that all the leaves are turning and the conkers are dropping. I love this time of year. I sat for a while up by me gramp's stone and had a look out over the way bleddy lovely. As I was there I was approached by a young couple who asked me what time the service was as they correctly assumed that was why the bells were ringing out. I told 'em that it was at 10.30 and they asked me if I was going but I had to say that I wasn't wearing my Sunday best and anyway I am a Catholic. They both had an accent but I couldn't quite place it, turns out they were both from San Fransisco in the USA. I thought to myslef at the time that was a bit of a coincidence as yesterday I was at Ian Stokey's wedding out at Broomhill and he got married to a maid from San Fran as they call it. Funny thing was they were there too but I don't recall them. Mind you Stokey had a tab running and they do serve a lovely drop of super organic cider out there.

No, no don't stop the carnival....

A smashing time was had last Saturday watching the carnival trundle it's way around town. There were bleddy thousands there and I must have shaken hands with half of them as I walked along the route pushing Ivor Thomas's daughter's chihuaua in an old pram popping in all the pubs along the way to rattle my tin of course it was fare to say that I was blathered by the end of it but it was all in a good cause, I just wish I could remember which one. I do recall though at the end of it sitting in the Marhall's with the lads having a chat over a game of euchre and the general consensus was that although the carnival is an annual event which should be protected and certainly this year is well supported  it lacks a certain something. I don't know you have to admit that once you have seen one bunch of majorettes you have seen them all and a lot of the floats just seemed full of fat maids not doing much in particular, half heartedly waving and looking a bit cold. Someone, mentioned I think it was Ian Stokey, he said that down 'Combe they have a cycle race around the town after the parade and in that downtime before the fireworks start. That got us all to thinking what could Barnstaple have? All sorts of suggestions were put forward ranging from tug of war, rowing or gun carriage assembly. But I have to say that my idea seemed to grip everyone's imagination, bull running. To my mind there is no doubt in my mind that would liven things up. Let them loose in the Civic Centre carpark and they could be chased up the strand and into the Square where they could run amok and everyone would have to try and get out of the way before some experienced cowmen could herd them up in the Bus Station. We agreed that you could have prizes for the bravest bey and maid and for the owner of the feistiest bull. I mean they do this sort of thing all the time in Spain and they seem to have a rare old time, so why can't we. I think next time I bump into a member of the Carnival Committee I might have a word.
As we walked down to watch the fireworks at castle quay we were all very exited about this prospective addition to our annual civic entertainment. I have to say though that the fireworks this year did not disappoint,  it was the best display ever and the reflections of the cloudbursts on the Taw along with the acrid smell of gunpowder smoke was a real treat for the senses. It seemed to go on forever but I may have just been imagining it as it seemed all a bit over vivid I reckon that might have been something to do with the fact that all I'd eaten all day was a piece of banana cake from Pilton Stores I'm sure that where Stokey said it came from.

The first night of the fair.......

Talking about ancient traditions, today sees the opening of Barnstaple Fair and there isn't a greater local tradition than this. Later on the fair will be opened by the Mayor and assorted blimmin' civic dignitaries and the old glove will be poked out of the little window high up in the eves of the guildhall and jiggled about thus signaling the start of the festivities
I'm going to be mozing down there meself in a bit to see what's going on. I'm meeting up with Messers Charlie Street and Dart and a few of the lads in the Marshalls and then after a couple of pints we'll no doubt go over to Seven Bretherens Bank  to pick up a bit of supper, nothing like Fair burger or hot dog and a packet of brandy snaps, maybe a bag of candy floss before reporting back to the pub to tell them all about the new rides and stuff. Old Darty always likes to pay a visit to Gypsy Accora to check in and see how is Mum is getting on, so no doubt he'll be full of tales from the other side, mazed fool.
In years gone by the arrival of the fair was always a great event in my calender. I'd always pop down there just as they started arriving on the sunday before and offer me services setting things up in exchange I was always useful to them as I knew where they could lay there hands on some spare coconuts or goldfish if they were running short. They also seemed to seek me out for giving them advice on where they could pick up assorted bits and pieces of electrical equipment. To this day I never know why they wanted so many car batteries.

As I got older I always wanted to work on the waltzers as the blokes who worked on that ride taking the money and spinning around the bucket seats always caught the eye of the maids and I've heard some pretty lurid tales of what they'd get up to during their breaks behind the sheep with two heads booth. The girls would be queuing up. Infact, year in year out the population of girls in North Devon would drop dramatically after the visit of the fair as they'd just disappear, One week they'd all be in the back of Devito's the next weekend gone, just like that, strange goings on. One year I finally got me chance but unfortunately due to an ear infection which effected my balance I fell off and was thrown into the hoopla stand. I managed to get back on but I was feeling a bit giddy and I threw up over Mandy Yeo and her friends. She still refuses to speak to me 27 years later. So, after only a few minutes I was bumped off that ride. I tried my hand on the dodgems but was severely electrocuted due to some dodgy wiring but fortunately I acted as the earth so no one else was hurt.
The next year I finally found my niche I was given the job of taking the money for Rhona the Rat Woman and I was quite happy standing outside her booth taking 10p's from the clammy hands of the gents who were eager to get inside and have a look at this modern marvel. Rhonna, bless her, would sit in a perspex box dressed in an alluring turquoise negligee surrounded by some rather lazy looking rats what would spend most of the time cowering in the corners so when the punters came in she'd have to grab them and drape them all over herself while making a noise to give the impression that she was enjoying it. I did this for a few years until one year Rhona didn't turn up. Apparently, she'd gone all high and mighty after appearing with her rats on the Generation Game, I must have missed that one.
I still carry a bit of a torch for her to tell you the truth. Happy days.
Still, I'm sure me and the beys will have some fun. I must remember to keep off the waltzers though as I'm wearing me best suit. I can't drink to much neither as I've promised me nephew a gonk from the shooting gallery.

Riverside leisure pursuits...... bring back the raft race

I was having a chat the other evening down at the reform with the bloke behind the Barnstaple Pilot Gig rowing club. I'd seen the bloke about, at the Pilton Festival and he's been in the Journal a few times trying to get more people involved in what to my mind is a valiant effort to get folk out and about on the River, so I thought I'd make myself known to him. We had a good old natter I told him that his endeavours seem to have captured the imagination of local people and I knew of a few people who had expressed an interest to me in getting involved. I told him how I thought it was a deep shame that a town like Barum with such an illustrious maritime history does not make more use in the river or more of our now redundant quaysides and that they could be used for much better purposes than car parking. In these instances I always cite Bideford who always seem to look out on to their river while we in Barum tend to turn away from it. Anyway, he told me that the Barnstaple Gig club had secured the use of the old boat building on Rolle (s) Quay which has laid in a state of rack and ruin for many years now. I was mightily impressed by this revelation as for years now I have been petitioning all and sundry about getting on and doing something about the place.
 As the natch flowed I found meself signing up for the club, even though at the time I had a bugger of a bad back, and the chap seemed impressed by my previous rowing experience especially after  I reminded him that I used to be a bit of a celebrity along the banks of the Taw as I was part of the Kirkham's Tyres Team which won the raft race two years in a row back in 1976 and '77. We both agreed that the Raft race was a proper community activity and is much missed and he seemed very keen to know more about my plans for reviving this ancient local tradition. I also told him how I keep my oar in like by doing a bit of dragnetting for salmon down at Ashford Strand during the season. He took my contact details but funny enough I haven't heard anything from him yet. I can't think why.
Yesterday, I was cycling along the river on the Tarka Trail and I was pondering about this when I happened upon another club which is making a greater use of our coastal location, namely the Taw and Tarka Trail Angling and Drinking Club. I've been hailed by these fellows a few times now as I've cycled passed so yesterday I stopped off and had a word to see what they are up to. Basically, they meet everyday by the Pottington turn off on the coast path or if the weather is inclement they shelter under the span of the downstream bridge, they cast out a few lines if the tide is right then they crack into large blue bottles of cider and then sit and heartily greet other users of the path. They also like to impart their local knowledge by providing an informal tourist information service and will come to the rescue of any cyclist in distress offering free bike maintenance advice and tips. The angling seemed a rather secondary activity as all the time I was there the lines went largely slack and ignored. I now report that having cycled up to the CO-OP and bought a coupe of two litre bottles of Blackthorn, proper juice not the muck they were drinking, I was received enthusiastically into the club.
To my mind this sort of organisation is just what David Cameron is going on about and after yesterday afternoon I am a little more optimistic that his ideas of a Big Society may actually work.

http://www.barnstaplepilotgigclub.co.uk/

Mitsubishis off the roads....

Over the summer months I have been able to identify a particular hazard on our local highways and byeways. It became apparent to me that a disproportionate amount of bad and sheer belligerent driving could be apportioned to the drivers and owners of these here Mitsubishi SUV vehicles and not only the marque as a whole but specifically the Animal range. The drivers of these particular conveyances stand out quite literally, judging by the the size of the bleddy things, by a few chassis lengths of other road users in my own survey of seasonal driving.

The other evening I was cycling along the top road to Braunton, between Ashford and Heanton on a foraging expedition stopping at gateways to cast an eye over the fields for mushrooms and peering into hedges for juicy blackberries also keeping an eye out on the verge for a chance encounter with a dead or dying pheasant as you do at this time of year. When bugger me  by the Chivenor turn off I found myself being cast into a ditch as one of these leviathans of the lanes came hurtling round a tight bend in the road going at some speed and missing me by bleddy inches, less than that. I scrambled to my feet and instinctively raised a few digits to the retreating vehicle. Upon which the driver slammed on his brakes and with his multiple reverse lights on full beam and his wheels spinning raising quite a cloud of dust he proceeded to snake menacingly back towards me. Indignantly, I stood me ground I was on my own territory and I was in the right. In this situation no buggers going to shift me. Anyways, he got within a few yards of me and came to a halt and as I marched up toward the cab to give him a piece of my mind, a fat sunburned piggy eyed face poked itself out of the side window and proceeded to give me a mouthful of cockney invective before shifting back into gear and careering back off up the road. I was so besides meself that I lobbed me cider bidon at him fortunately it missed and I was able to retrieve it, but it just shows you how mad I was.

These particular vehicles and their drivers are a bleddy menace. I've seen them pulling caravans, I've seen them two abreast getting stuck in lanes and I saw one which looked like a stretch hearse with it's blackened out windows and elongated cab jackknifed across Braunton as the driver attempted to come out of South Street taking adavantage of a well known rat run. I also saw one, festooned with surf boards and watersports equipment including a jet ski brazenly driving along the beach at Crowe Point.

What is with Mitsubishi Animals and their drivers that seem to make them think of themselves as a breed apart above and beyond normal folk, although really coming across as a bunch of asocial, mazed fools?
The other evening while watching the Transformers film on telly I think I found the answer. The design of these cars owes a lot to the Transformers look, the bull bars, the overuse of chrome, the glossy lurid paintwork of some models,  as does the Animal logo. So, I think it's fair to assume that a lot of the drivers obviously see themselves at the helm of a malevolent autobot carving up mere mortals on the highways while also embracing a dudish surf lifestyle. Basically, they are owned and driven by a bunch of people who live in a world dangrously bordering on fanatsy where their childish dreams have been made manifest in vehicular form. A Tonka toy big truck that really drives or a truck that morphs into a cybertron on the A361.
Call me unreasonable but I don't think that it is, in any circumstance, particularly safe or healthy what so bleddy ever to allow this sort of person on the road.

Wilden's R.I.P....

It was with a sense of bemusement and deep regret that this morning I found myself in Boutport Street standing in front of Wildens which to my amazement appears to have shut up shop. I'd gone along there early in order to get a couple of screws to re-attach a doorknob which had worked itself loose only to find myself knob in hand standing out in the street. It's a crying shame as to my mind Wilden's was the only place in town were you could turn up with a defunct piece of home hardware in hand and find some assistance so you could rectify your problem. Nobody there looked at you strangely, or tried to sell you a new one they would be genuinely keen to help you out. The old fellow knew every nook and cranny of the place and would scurry off in all directions in order to search out an illusive screw, washer, nut or cup hook. Admittedly, the young bloke was a touch on the dozy side but once you prodded him into life with a few teasing questions about grouting, weedkiller or cuprenol he was also eager to please. Wildens I'm sure will be sadly missed as it was a veritable Alladin's cave of hardware treasures. I suppose you have to be a toolman to have fully appreciated it and recognise the significance of it's demise. However, the disappearance of Wilden's and stores of it's ilk is a clear example of how such businesses suffer in a town like Barum surrounded as it is by bleddy ubiquitous D.I.Y barns staffed as they are by well minded but largely clueless till monkeys. You can't buy a one pound bag of assorted nails in B&Q. It never ceases to amaze me why folk continue to patronize these establishments to the detriment of cheaper, locally owned and better quality town centre alternatives. I know for a fact that a Wildens junction bix like for like was of a beter quality and a darn site cheaper as were their drill bits. You could also buy cable by the metre for about half the price of a DIY barn 5m drum.
Mark my words as more and more functional town centre stores shut down to be replaced by stores pandering purely to consumption or just stand empty the heart and soul of our town centre is just going to disappear. There will soon be no need to go there unless you like parading up and down on a Saturday afternoon or have the disposable income to divest in mobile phones, accessories, gambling or overpriced coffee.
How long for Youing's, John Patt's, Banbury's or Apex Sportsto name the few once the new Tescos opens it's aisles for trade next year? Not long.

Of course, Wilden's itself replaced another fine and much missed local business, Raymond's Bakery home of the world famous Raymond's Pasty and pies