The secret society of bus shelter cleaners struck today at victoria road in Ulverston. At 9.30 am on Sunday morning when there were very few members of the public up and about the S.S.B.S.C. struck and began to clean the grime from the bus shelter to the left of the kiosk. Only one little old lady was witness to this dastardly assault on this eyesore that had blighted the quiet market town of Ulverston. With squirty bottles of windowleen they began the awesome task of ridding the town of its filthy image.
Unbeknown to the minions at Cumbria county council this anarchistic crew set about removing years of accumulated grime, without any regard for insurance or health and safety regulations. They scaled step ladders and wielding deck brush and scraper set about the monumental task of cleaning one of the two shelters that had been neglected for years and years.
I can reveal a certain amount of collusion from the Coronation Hall and the red rose club who unwittingly supplied the S.S.B.S.C. with hot water to carry out this dastardly deed.
By 11am the public had started to gather waiting for buses to take them to the far reaches of our fair county. Little could they know that the perpetrators of this deed were not engaged in community service orders but were doing this as a selfless act of community pride in their town. Only the members of Ulverston in Bloom had any idea that these were members of the anarchistic S.S.B.S.C. group, and they had also colluded in the deed by supplying a step ladder to carry out this act. Although only a stones throw away, tending the flower beds of the rose garden they turned a blind eye to the actions of this crew, only stopping now and then to pass comment on the improvement to the state of the shelters, but being careful not to draw attention to themselves less they were implemented in any way.
Buses came and went, passengers alighted, but few suspected that the shelters were being cleaned by a rogue team of non council employees. No-one even questioned them or dared to pass comment and by 12.30 it was done. The grime had been removed and although the perspex windows still retained the daubing and scratchings of the youths of our town the shelter was at least restored to a cleaner and brighter semblance of it former self thanks to the actions of this hit squad of the S.S.B.S.C. group.
We will be monitoring this part of the town with CCTV to make sure the culprits of this clean up are brought to book in the future should they chance to carry out this kind of operation again.
11.17.2010
Funny how you get used to things.
Funny how you get used to things.
When I was first elected I remember going into the council chamber and thinking it was a musty and drab affair. It also had a pomposity that I guessed was meant to intimidate those who entered. The semi circular rows of pews that were lorded over by the raised platform of the Mayors throne. The chairs we sat on had been re-upholstered, cheaply, and showed their age, all in all it needed a make over.
When the public attend our meetings they are allocated the back row of this semi circle and have to address the back of the heads of the Councillors. What's that all about? Well I can see in days of yore that you would be addressing the mayor but these days I think it a bit antiquated, if they've come to address the council, then surely we should be facing each other.
The room itself, with its oak paneled walls and ornate skylight has a certain grandeur but the furniture is a throwback to Ulverston Urban District Council which ceased to be back in the 70's.
There are far too many seats which make it look as though there's only half of us there, except when there's a contentious issue on the agenda. Then and only then will these extra seats be filled, which is once in a blue moon.
Now that we have a refurbished one stop shop, now called the link, downstairs, which is very nice and welcoming I think it's time to modernise the Council chamber. I don't really like the word chamber, do you?
Since the downstairs has been done up it's thrown up another silly problem. That is that we no longer have a room that the councillors can use for sub-committee meetings. Oh, there are still meeting rooms but we have to pay SLDC rent for using these, so we now meet in the council chamber. When there's only half a dozen of us meeting this strange arrangement of the semi circle just doesn't work, but it's the only space in OUR town hall that is free of charge. How daft is that.
I did actually voice this need for a new set up, getting rid of the old furniture when I first joined the council back in 2004. I only casually mentioned it to a couple of long serving members who were horrified that I wanted to ditch a part of the towns heritage, and since then I seem to have grown used to it, now I don't see it any longer.
Funny how you get used to things, but now that we have a nice new and welcoming building on the ground floor I think it's time to consider a new set up for the Council chamber. I'm not sure what that layout should be but the one we have has passed its sell by date.
What do you think?
When I was first elected I remember going into the council chamber and thinking it was a musty and drab affair. It also had a pomposity that I guessed was meant to intimidate those who entered. The semi circular rows of pews that were lorded over by the raised platform of the Mayors throne. The chairs we sat on had been re-upholstered, cheaply, and showed their age, all in all it needed a make over.
When the public attend our meetings they are allocated the back row of this semi circle and have to address the back of the heads of the Councillors. What's that all about? Well I can see in days of yore that you would be addressing the mayor but these days I think it a bit antiquated, if they've come to address the council, then surely we should be facing each other.
The room itself, with its oak paneled walls and ornate skylight has a certain grandeur but the furniture is a throwback to Ulverston Urban District Council which ceased to be back in the 70's.
There are far too many seats which make it look as though there's only half of us there, except when there's a contentious issue on the agenda. Then and only then will these extra seats be filled, which is once in a blue moon.
Now that we have a refurbished one stop shop, now called the link, downstairs, which is very nice and welcoming I think it's time to modernise the Council chamber. I don't really like the word chamber, do you?
Since the downstairs has been done up it's thrown up another silly problem. That is that we no longer have a room that the councillors can use for sub-committee meetings. Oh, there are still meeting rooms but we have to pay SLDC rent for using these, so we now meet in the council chamber. When there's only half a dozen of us meeting this strange arrangement of the semi circle just doesn't work, but it's the only space in OUR town hall that is free of charge. How daft is that.
I did actually voice this need for a new set up, getting rid of the old furniture when I first joined the council back in 2004. I only casually mentioned it to a couple of long serving members who were horrified that I wanted to ditch a part of the towns heritage, and since then I seem to have grown used to it, now I don't see it any longer.
Funny how you get used to things, but now that we have a nice new and welcoming building on the ground floor I think it's time to consider a new set up for the Council chamber. I'm not sure what that layout should be but the one we have has passed its sell by date.
What do you think?
11.05.2010
Bommy night
It started at least three weeks before bommy night. We would start to collect any thing that might burn to build our bonfire. Ours would be built on what is now called holbeck estate, but back then in the 50's it was just a waste land of rough ground. There were plenty of these sort of areas all over Barrow and Bommy night was a competition to see which of us could build the biggest Bommy. So Three weeks, at least before, we started the scavaging of our neighbour hoods for old chairs, tables, trees, planks, railway sleepers, tyres, you name it, if it was flammable it was piled up around the position of the Bommy.
As the time drew nearer to November the 5th our Bommy would begin to take shape and each day would grow a little more until about five days before the 5th it would start to resemble a giant edifice that could be seen towering above the horizon from anywhere in the area. The promise of this towering inferno though brought it's hazards, not least the possibilities of raiders. Rival Bommy builders would be sure to nick lots of your Bommy if you didn't post a sentry to ward off these unwanted intrusions on your hard fought battle to build a big one.
Your Bommy was big enough to have four or five of us kids sat high on top of this work of art, armed with catapults, or bows and arrows. There would be a secret way to climb to the top of this 30ft pile of tinder dry death trap. And death trap it could have been except for the fact that we didn't load the triangular hole at the base with paper until the actual day. Every night for the last ten days some one was allocated to guard the Bommy.
The crowning glory, the Guy, would arrive perhaps the day before and sat in an old arm chair that topped off the Glorious heap. By now the bottom would be stuffed full of old newspapers, cardboard, and if you were lucky some ashfelt or lino to ensure a first time burn. This was the most perilous time, and a vigil had to be mounted to ensure that no rival gangs sneaked on to your patch to light your fire before the allotted time of 6.30 on Bommy night itself.
Fireworks back then were quite humble and pretty. Roman candles, Vesuvius fountains, snow storms, cathrine wheels, pathetic penny bangers, and rockets that just went woosh. Some posh people might have bought a rocket that released a red glowing flare, meant to be released at sea with a parachute that helped it float on the breeze 100ft up in the air but all of these paled into insignificance to the Bommy. The Bommy was the star of the show. By the time it was well alight we would have to be stood a good 10 or 20 yards back and be very vigilant about a collapse as the flames licked high into the night sky spluttering millions of red hot sparks.
Parents with todlers, tens and teens would be gathered, maybe a hundred or more all with sparklers, your whole neighbour hood would be there, a real communal event.
Now sadly the health and safety brigade, instead of the fire brigade, have stepped in and robbed us of this grand event. The Bommy has passed into history and has become a staged event on some football ground with the fireworks being huge exploding cascades in the sky set off by highly qualified pyrotechnic teams.
Bring back the Bommy, that searing heat haze on a cold November night, it made the coming of winter something to look forward to, a bit of danger, dogeing the flip flops and combing through the embers the next day hunting for that firework that never went off. Tipping the gunpowder out and creating a mini Hiroshima that sent us home with singed eyebrows.
Bring back the Bommy, it's what the big society was made for when we all got together and lived dangerously.
What do you think
As the time drew nearer to November the 5th our Bommy would begin to take shape and each day would grow a little more until about five days before the 5th it would start to resemble a giant edifice that could be seen towering above the horizon from anywhere in the area. The promise of this towering inferno though brought it's hazards, not least the possibilities of raiders. Rival Bommy builders would be sure to nick lots of your Bommy if you didn't post a sentry to ward off these unwanted intrusions on your hard fought battle to build a big one.
Your Bommy was big enough to have four or five of us kids sat high on top of this work of art, armed with catapults, or bows and arrows. There would be a secret way to climb to the top of this 30ft pile of tinder dry death trap. And death trap it could have been except for the fact that we didn't load the triangular hole at the base with paper until the actual day. Every night for the last ten days some one was allocated to guard the Bommy.
The crowning glory, the Guy, would arrive perhaps the day before and sat in an old arm chair that topped off the Glorious heap. By now the bottom would be stuffed full of old newspapers, cardboard, and if you were lucky some ashfelt or lino to ensure a first time burn. This was the most perilous time, and a vigil had to be mounted to ensure that no rival gangs sneaked on to your patch to light your fire before the allotted time of 6.30 on Bommy night itself.
Fireworks back then were quite humble and pretty. Roman candles, Vesuvius fountains, snow storms, cathrine wheels, pathetic penny bangers, and rockets that just went woosh. Some posh people might have bought a rocket that released a red glowing flare, meant to be released at sea with a parachute that helped it float on the breeze 100ft up in the air but all of these paled into insignificance to the Bommy. The Bommy was the star of the show. By the time it was well alight we would have to be stood a good 10 or 20 yards back and be very vigilant about a collapse as the flames licked high into the night sky spluttering millions of red hot sparks.
Parents with todlers, tens and teens would be gathered, maybe a hundred or more all with sparklers, your whole neighbour hood would be there, a real communal event.
Now sadly the health and safety brigade, instead of the fire brigade, have stepped in and robbed us of this grand event. The Bommy has passed into history and has become a staged event on some football ground with the fireworks being huge exploding cascades in the sky set off by highly qualified pyrotechnic teams.
Bring back the Bommy, that searing heat haze on a cold November night, it made the coming of winter something to look forward to, a bit of danger, dogeing the flip flops and combing through the embers the next day hunting for that firework that never went off. Tipping the gunpowder out and creating a mini Hiroshima that sent us home with singed eyebrows.
Bring back the Bommy, it's what the big society was made for when we all got together and lived dangerously.
What do you think
11.04.2010
Profoundly dull
Like all the other households in Ulverston we found a copy of Profound colours on our doorstep the other day. I was underwhelmed to say the least. I found the majority of the pictures profoundly dull, and so bizarrely abstract that I failed to grasp the point of this artistic endeavour.
I don't know what I expected, well in truth I wasn't expecting anything, let alone this pointless exercise in how to spend money on something nobody wanted.
But wait, maybe this is what art is all about, doing something nobody expects, for no reason at all, except to give the artist a means of expressing some inner meaning to the colour of our existence. Mmm yeh maybe that's it, I need to change my perspective, chill a little and get underneath the skin of the artist and see the world from a new point of view.
No, I'm still not getting this; so maybe it's me, I'm just not able to reach out and connect with it. I just find myself thinking that this is a waste of money.
But come on Colin life is just a bowl of cherries, and if somebody else thinks it's raspberries who am I to be critical.
They say in the blurb at the back of the book that this will be around as long as Ulverston is here, Mmmmmmm, bit of a big claim there, mines already heading for the recycling bin, which is no doubt where many will end up, or on ebay to sell for vast amounts of money just to prove how much of a philistine I am when it comes to art.
I even got a name check in this book, why I don't know because when asked to take part I remember saying I don't know what it's all about. Please don't blame me I don't remember making any contribution to this, IT WASN'T ME. I am profoundly innocent, honest.
I thought it profoundly dull.
I don't know what I expected, well in truth I wasn't expecting anything, let alone this pointless exercise in how to spend money on something nobody wanted.
But wait, maybe this is what art is all about, doing something nobody expects, for no reason at all, except to give the artist a means of expressing some inner meaning to the colour of our existence. Mmm yeh maybe that's it, I need to change my perspective, chill a little and get underneath the skin of the artist and see the world from a new point of view.
No, I'm still not getting this; so maybe it's me, I'm just not able to reach out and connect with it. I just find myself thinking that this is a waste of money.
But come on Colin life is just a bowl of cherries, and if somebody else thinks it's raspberries who am I to be critical.
They say in the blurb at the back of the book that this will be around as long as Ulverston is here, Mmmmmmm, bit of a big claim there, mines already heading for the recycling bin, which is no doubt where many will end up, or on ebay to sell for vast amounts of money just to prove how much of a philistine I am when it comes to art.
I even got a name check in this book, why I don't know because when asked to take part I remember saying I don't know what it's all about. Please don't blame me I don't remember making any contribution to this, IT WASN'T ME. I am profoundly innocent, honest.
I thought it profoundly dull.
11.02.2010
Escuala Espanol
When you get to a certain age they say it's good to keep your mind active and try to learn new things. This, they say stops your brain from turning into some gooey mush, so I've decided to try to brush up on my scant knowledge of Spanish. To this ends I enrolled myself and me esposa on an adult education course. We attend this class in the old County Council offices in cross street every Monday. We hope it will help us to get more out of our holidays in the Dominican Republic where we will be going in January.
I did a trek through Peru in 1979 where I learned quite a lot of Espanol. This was rather a long time ago and coming back to it after 30 years is a bit of a struggle but it's surprising how much is still lodged in my grey matter, unfortunately it's not lodged there in any coherent form.
Apart from a girl in her mid twenties we're all late 50's to late sixties, and of course the youngster has much more of a grasp of it than us oldies. One bloke next to me brings a mountain of books and dictionaries, others like me just jot the odd thing down on a pad as an aid memoir.
At the moment we're trying to learn about irregular verbs, and reflexive verbs. Now I don't even understand what these are in English so you can imagine my problem with learning this in Spanish, it makes my brain hurt. Never the less some of it will stick in there, I hope.
When I was at school I was top of the class one year in French, so I must have had some sort of aptitude for languages, if only I'd kept it up, but we brits don't, do we, and all the foreigners want to speak to us in English.
Anyway even if only a smidgin goes in at least I'm taxing my grey matter. Adios amigos para ahora.
I did a trek through Peru in 1979 where I learned quite a lot of Espanol. This was rather a long time ago and coming back to it after 30 years is a bit of a struggle but it's surprising how much is still lodged in my grey matter, unfortunately it's not lodged there in any coherent form.
Apart from a girl in her mid twenties we're all late 50's to late sixties, and of course the youngster has much more of a grasp of it than us oldies. One bloke next to me brings a mountain of books and dictionaries, others like me just jot the odd thing down on a pad as an aid memoir.
At the moment we're trying to learn about irregular verbs, and reflexive verbs. Now I don't even understand what these are in English so you can imagine my problem with learning this in Spanish, it makes my brain hurt. Never the less some of it will stick in there, I hope.
When I was at school I was top of the class one year in French, so I must have had some sort of aptitude for languages, if only I'd kept it up, but we brits don't, do we, and all the foreigners want to speak to us in English.
Anyway even if only a smidgin goes in at least I'm taxing my grey matter. Adios amigos para ahora.
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