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

Celebrity spotting - Prince William in Barum....

Prince William charts his way to the Marshals Public House

Now there's a funny thing I was in the Marshals the other evening enjoying a game of Euchre with Ian Stokey when coming back to the table after a toilet break I saw this bloke at the bar who looked like the spitting image of Prince William, our future King. I got back down to the cards but I couldn't put me mind to 'em as I find being in the presence of royalty a bit distracting.  I told the lads not to turn round too quickly but I thought that it was HRH at the bar. They thought I was mazed and was trying to get one on them trying to steal a quick peak at their hands. It wasn't long before I had to show me hand and once I was out of the game I went up to the bar cap in hand and made myself known to the young gentleman. I told him what an honor he was doing the Marshals and that how they would be pleased to put a Royal warrant up outside facing the bus stop. I also told him what a wonderful woman I thought his mother was. He told me that he often came down to these parts training with the RAF down at Chivenor and also he came down from time to time with his brother Harry for a bit of r & r with James Cracknell, that rower who's always getting pulled out of the water round Baggy. We had a right laff about that. I told Wills, as be now we was on first name terms, that old Crackers should give him plenty of practice for his future search and rescue missions.  He also told me that him and his mates wanted to get something to eat and asked me if I knew of anywhere they could get a bite at that time of night. I'm sure if the microwave in the Marshals hadn't been broken they would have heated him up the leftover soup of the day as I was at a bit of a loss as to what to suggest. Where else in Barum did they serve food fit for a king? I suggested the fish and chip shop next door as they could always bring it back in with them and eat it sitting down with a fresh pint but one of his mates wasn't up for a fish supper as they'd had one down at Squires' in Braunton the night before. I had to sum up a number of options I was going to say Zenas or Lilicos but they might have been too busy so in the end I told them they could get something fairly decent down at Claytons. The Prince seemed happy with this and included me in a round of shorts he got in before they hit the road.
I got back to the euchre game and old Stokey looked amazed at my large one. Bleddy 'ell bey he says you made of money. I told him that it was the Prince who'd been so gracious as to reward me for my in depth local culinary knowledge by getting it in for me. He wasn't having any of it as though he saw Wills leaving he thought it was one of his customers boys from West Buckland. Still he's a bleddy fool although it has to be said he knows his euchre.

Plant foood..........

I was on the computers in the library this morning looking for some cyber advice in order to bring on my rather sad bedreggled and sodden tomato plants when I happened upon a site advertising plant food and fertilizer right in the middle of town. They seemed to have quite a selection and it all looked a bit more scientific then the stuff they sell out at Trelawney's or B&Q so I thought I'd pop over to Barum Arcade and take a look meself and I wasn't disappointed as they hold an interesting line in stock. It's all a bit of a mish mash as they don't seem seem to specialize in one thing or the other. They got candles in there, bath salts and smoking equipment but I can't see how I could do me mackerel with any of the contraptions they were selling. They look like water purifiers or fancy coffee percolaters to me. Anyway, I asked the young fellow in there if he had anything for tomato plants and he gave me a matey grin and the next thing I know he reaches under the counter and brings out a huge selection of little bright coloured packets of what I thought was sherbet they certainly didn't have little pictures of flowers on them. However, he assured me they were just what I needed for me plants. Well I'll try anything once especially where me garden is concerned so I took a small selection of the more effective, scientific looking ones and the fellow gave me a discount as he said I was to try 'em all and that way I'd find the one that works for me. Fair enough, for I never fail to not look a gift horse in the mouth. The young chap also noticed my bike propped up against the window and he asked me if I needed anything to stop my brakes from squeaking on the rims  because he said, giving me another wink and grin, he had just the stuff. Well, although I normally pop next door to Gordy to get me bike tweaked, me brakes were squeaking a bit so I said sure why not but I told him not to tell Gordy. He gave me a little bottle of something called GBX it sure smells as if it'll do the job and more besides.
            As I was cycling back home I thought to meself how pleasant it was to find such a handy little business right  in the town centre staffed by knowledgeable  and enthusiastic folk which is evidently thriving in spite of competition from otherlger out of town garden centres and national home store chains which proliferate on the edges of our town centres.

Here is a handy link......

For all your plant food needs

Bleddy, effin Shop-mobility

I'll tell you what these people have got some explaining to do. The other morning I was turning into Boutport Street from Butchers Row, by the A1 taxi office on my way to the Marshalls for a swift pint of draught when I was almost mown down bty a rather large elderly woman sitting astride one of those mobility scooters. I'm telling you she came hurtling around that corner at a rate of knots. on the pavement I add and I had to throw myself up against the taxi office window in order to stop myself from getting injured. I was so taken aback, lost for words shocked at the brazen behaviour of this apparent differently abled person. She didn't say anything either just looked daggers at me and hurrumphed as she had come to a juddering halt. No word of apology, nothing and after adjusting her front basket which had dapped me on the arm, she was off on her way again careering down Butchers Row. If this was the first time that I had almost come a cropper in the path of one of these vehicles then it wouldn't bear mentioning, but I'm afraid to say it isn't . To my mind they have become something of a scourge in the High Street area. I suppose with the aging population and all that they have to be accepted as the accepted mode of transportation for the times we live in What the bicycle was to the Edwardians the shop mobility scooter is to us latter day Elizabethans.

public enemy number one?

Now don't get me wrong, I like to see the old folk out and about and whatever enables this then that is a good thing. Same to if people are ill and you do see these folk with oxygen tanks attached to their conveyance but I hate to say that with a great deal of these people the only problem that seems to be up with them is that they are fat and rather malevolent. This lot all seem to have some air of entitlement to do just what they please with regard to right of way just because the are whirring about in one of these contraptions. To put it bluntly, they are just plain bleddy rude and as is often the case they didn't learn their manners in this part of the world if you get my drift.
Anyway as I was calming down over a pint of natch I happened upon a copy of the Telegraph that had been discarded by the Marshalls crossword club and lo and behold, there right in front of me was an advert for Quingo scooters. It was all done up to look like an advert for a high spec sports car.  All sorts of data about incline angles, hi-speed 5 speed gearing, steering systems, 45o kerb mounting and 0% finance. However what struck me was that if you agreed to test drive, that's what they say and all, then Quingo will give you a free his or hers sports watch Now I had to have to laugh as that's just what the prospective owner of a mobility scooter is really going to need. Although, come to think of it, that might explain the speeds that some of 'em get up to, perhaps they are all on some sort of clandestine scooter rally and are up against the clock. Anyway should you actually purchase a scooter you will get a free 26" LCD TV and a Lazee boy recliner now that seems just the job for an exclusively sedantry lifestyle

Here is a handy list of shopmobilty scooter blackspots
1. The main Pannier Market entrance by Cafe Chino and that stall that sells bateries and assorted electrical tat on a Friday morning it can as congested as Mullacott Cross when the road has been dug up.
2. The pavement between W.H. Smith and M&S as both these stores have automatic doors and the scooters tend to approach each at speed and open sesame,  irrespective of who might be in their way. They must be on some sort of Doom trip.
3. The gateway between Church Walk and the Rising Sun, they will not let you pass.
4. The corner of Butcher's Row and Boutport Street as my own recent experience bears testament to.
5. High Street Somerfield if you are unlucky to get sandwiched between two each intent on making their own way around the store then you are liable to get crushed toes at the very least.
6. Silver Street between the hours of 9.30 am and Midday. A veritable scooter cavalcade takes place daily at this time due to the arrival of buses post 9.30 and the proximity of the shop mobility garage and HQ

Even the Daily Mail are on the case!

Modern romance the Ilfracombe way

I noticed a rather touching story in The Gazette the other day. Apparently, a young couple in 'Combe are having their wedding televised and there is nothing that the folk of North devon like to do more than and that is to get on the telly. Whether that be living with wolves, sitting in a tank for two days in Clovelly harbour or just gawping at the camera whenever Antiques Roadshow or Top Gear are in the vicinity. This couple are having there nuptials filmed for a series on Living TV, so they are really hitting the big time at least that is what the Gazette would have you believe.It'a all part of a great TV concept dreamed up by some Toby type up there in the big big big city, whereby they and three other happy couples invite each other to their big day and after each do the other couples are invited to measure the proceedings against the standards of their own and mark them out of ten accordingly.
Now that's entertainment..... and a sure way to fame and fortune. It just makes me think what kind of person subjects the supposedly biggest day in a persons life to such scrutiny and then let it be picked apart by others all in front of a TV audience, granted it's being on Living TV not a particularly large one, but they did use an ITV crew! all for the sake of a few quid and a chance to get on the telly?
Well, it takes all sorts I suppose and the denizens of Ilfraombe have always got to be shown a little more compassion and understanding.
I have a mind to contact Living TV and suggest a more Adult format than the one they are currently running with, spice things up a bit. In for a penny in for a pound. I won't give out anymore details just yet as its only at the back of a fag packet stage. I reckon I'll do a bit of market research down the Reform later on.

http://www.livingtv.co.uk/shows/four-weddings/ Here it is. Actually it seems they win a dream honeymoon in ...... Padstow.

Pilton turned upside down..... as if.

Well a good day was had by one and all at the Pilton Festival/Green Man Day last weekend. As I said I started early and got in the Reform early in order to secure my place at the bar. I also got Esther to put by a few bottles of Natch for me and the boys in case some incomers fancied a drop. I was amazed as I walked down the street and came across crowds of people as it was only 10.30. I bumped into me sister in law and a few others so by the time I reached the bottom house I was in need of a pint. This was the pattern for the day, have a drink go out for a stroll and a fag meet someone who I only see once in a blue moon have a natter and then dive back inside for a pint. It was good to see some of the old Pilton faces, faces that I have known all me life. Old Ian Stokey rolled up as did Charlie Street and Charles Dart.
I have to say that although I tip me hat to the folk who organise it but it seems to me that they miss the point of the Green man festival and also they have taken it upon themselves to re-write history according to their own ideas as to what form a village festival should take. Being a woodsman meself, I'm a firm believer in the spirit of the Green Man and from my own readings about festivities associated in celebrating him it appears to me that a lot more fun would be had if the historical elements of such a celebration were more strictly followed. In the past such activities were licensed by the village authorities and the church in order to create social cohesion and allow release for the folk whose everyday life was lived under harsh and prohibitive control, basically a couple of times a year they were allowed to let off steam and this is exactly what they did. The green man is seen as an outlaw figure and it is indeed from these tales that the figure of Robin Hood evolved. He came from the woods to protect and look over the common people and was a figure whose qualities were the direct opposite of those embodied in the Churchmen, land owners and the State. On these days the folk would cock a snoop at the social norms of the day and undertake a process of inversion. World turned upside town as it became known. Last weekend I saw little of this. The parade should have been a ribald chaotic procession not with a bleddy samba band but an ensemble of people claterring pots and pans and making rude music. There would also be cross dressing, men dressed as women and vice versa. People would be crudely dressed as landowners, bishops, sheriffs also some lowly clergy would be press ganged into pulling carts and as often as not the vicar would be seized and dunked in a pond. As far as I could tell the Rev. Nigel Dilkes didn't really get into the spirit of things as I seem to recall seeing him late in the afternoon and he didn't look as if he had been thrown in the Yeo. Also as the ale and cider and wine flowed the crowd would tumble into the church and would listen to profane bawdy sermons delivered by the local lads, they would also dress up in the vestments. A couple of final points the king of the fayre was also a pig or hog, dressed up in finery and sat in cart not a rather dainty looking octogenarian potter, also the green man himself was often portrayed by the village idiot who would be pushed along at the head of the procession and force fed pies and ale not some fella throwing karate shapes and carrying a bottle of Evian.
Of course by the end of the day I had rather warmed to these thoughts and I put me ideas forward to a couple of chaps I know in the walking band, who I'm glad to say were satisfactory awful. However, I got short shrift. I also took a chap to task as he insisted on calling Pilton Street, the high street, Pilton the village. "how long have you lived in the village?', he asked me. He got an incoherent disgust laden response as you can imagine.
I have to say though that despite the historical inaccuracies, the cow towing to middle class incomers  it was an bleddy good day. Next year at the committee maybe I'm going to suggest a greater adherence to the historical precedents that should liven thing up. I was also very pleased the bell that I bought for me bike from the Communists.

Flippin blimmin Green men......... get off

I've been told to keep me council on thisat least until it's over. All I can say that it's a good excuse to get a few pints of natch in and have a good old blather with some of the bauys. If you can find 'em. I'll be down the Reform early to get me spot on the corner of the bar before the voroners all turn up to sample our ales. I'll be off up the Chichester when the beardy weirdy count gets too high mind you they always suggest I go up the road as they don't seem able to appreciate my tales of the Pilton of old. I usually start with a captive audience but after a while they drink too much of the ale which folk these days aren't used to and they don't seem to understand what I'm saying. Mazed fools. Well,  Ian Stokey both the Charles, Street and Dart should be about so us'll have a laugh whatever happens.