OCCUPIED COUNTRY

Sign in Stranger

So, a chapter closes and the Royal Mail Group sails off into the distance. I have started my new job as an Oracle systems administrator and I'm loving it. I have been welcomed, given all the help I need and treated like a human being worthy of a modicum of respect.

Praise be.

I am stationed on the 10th floor with some fabulous views over the city, the Pennines and the Cheshire plain and life just feels right.

In fact the only blot on the horizon (literally) is the view on the left for, as I look out of the windows I also have to look at Old Trafford in all its hideous glory. Still, it's a small price to pay.

I enjoyed myself this morning as the Royal Mail have sent me a questionnaire so they can "better understand" why I left. Cathartic I can tell you. A written explosion of all that's pent up within me over the months. Inadequate, insular, Dickensian.....I could on...and probably will one day. But not now. Happy thoughts, happy thoughts.

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I'm currently reading marvellous Post-War history of Britain "A World to Build". It's part of a projected series entitled "Tales of a New Jerusalem" that will eventually take the reader to 1979.

It's wonderful.

For the most part the author relies on the archives of the Mass Observation Project and, as such, is based on the diaries kept by ordinary folk - as well as the usual suspects - from all over the country. As a result of these apparently prosaic setting down of ordinary thoughts, a truly illuminating history shines through. We discover just how much of a damp squib the VE Day celebrations were everywhere except the West End of London for example. The little things that occurred on momentous days in history. The ending of a relationship, a man striking matches trying to find a shilling he has dropped and complaining that they don't last long enough. The wonder of seeing well-lit streets after years of blackout.

It's hard to believe it's the same country we inhabit. Consider this:-

"Britain in 1945. No supermarkets, no motorways, no teabags, no sliced bread, no frozen food, no flavoured crisps, no lager, no microwaves, no dishwashers, no Formica, no vinyl no CDs, no computers, no mobiles, no duvets, no Pill, no trainers, no hoodies, no Starbucks. Four Indian restaurants. Shops on every corner, pubs on every corner, cinemas in every high street, red telephone boxes, Lyons Corner Houses, trams, trolley-buses, steam trains. woodbines, Craven 'A', Senior Service, smoke, smog, Vapex inhalant. No launderettes, no automatic washing machines, wash day every Monday, clothes boiled in a tub, scrubbed on the draining board, rinsed in the sink, put through a mangle, hung out to dry. Central heating rare, coke boilers, water geysers, the coal fire, the hearth, the home, chilblains common. Abortion illegal, homosexual relationships illegal, suicide illegal, capital punishment legal. white faces everywhere. Back-to-backs, narrow cobbled streets, Victorian terraces, no high-rises,. Arterial roads, suburban semis, the march of the pylon. Austin Sevens, Ford Eights, no seat belts, Triumph motorcycles with sidecars. A Bakelite wireless in the home, 'Housewives Choice' or 'Worker's Playtime' or 'ITMA' on the air, televisions almost unknown, no programmes to watch, the family eating together. Milk of Magnesia, Vick Vapour rub, Friar's Balsom, Fynnon Salts, Eno's, Germoline. Suits and hats, dresses and hats, cloth caps and mufflers, no leisurewear, no 'teenagers'. Heavy coins, heavy shoes, heavy suitcases, heavy tweed coats, heavy leather footballs, no unbearable lightness of being. Meat rationed, butter rationed, lard rationed, margarine rationed, sugar rationed, tea rationed, cheese rationed, jam rationed, eggs rationed, sweets rationed, soap rationed. Make do and mend."

Recommended.

I had a 'lump in the throat' moment reading it the other day though as I found myself thinking 'I'll lend this my Dad he'd love it'.

Times like that bring back the reality. Ah well. Life goes on and the last gift of love is remembrance.

Right I'm off to watch Sven's Blue and White army take on ex-City player Gary Megson's Bolton Wanderers on the Big Screen in my local with many other like-minded folk. After the match we've got a curry ordered from a great Indian vegetarian we've discovered in Ashton-under-Lyne. So it's Chana Masala with Jeera rice and a Naan for me as I settle down for an evening of TV watching.

Here's some more photographs:-

























That's all folks!