|
||||
|
With traffic density in London still impossible, along with the apparent inability of bus, lorry and car drivers to even notice the presence of a cyclist in their path, there is a balance to be struck: the resulting increase of death and injury in the two- wheeled fraternity probably outnumbers the deaths from terrorism already, just three months after the attacks. So, not just a helmet to buy, add a suit of armour too. Do the railway companies charge for a bicycle on top of your personal season ticket? Do they even allow cycles to be carried in me guard's van? No guard these days, so no van either. Then there is the health hazard of cycling amongst the fumes. It may not result in instantaneous death or disablement, but the damage done to lungs must be even worse than that caused by smoking. So add a face mask to the purchases. Arriving at the office clad in cycling gear (also needing to be purchased) meant retiring to the men's room and changing into something more presentable - even in these days of dressing down mere would be nudges amongst one's colleagues at the sight of Lycra shorts and a T-shirt at a meeting with clients. So any time saved on the journey (and it can be substantial) is immediately taken up with the time spent making yourself presentable, with another bout of changing at the end of the day. All this change in transport took place in the warmth and sun of one of the best summers we have had in many a year, when cycling was nearly a pleasurable alternative, but with autumn and winter coming on and the evenings closing in, one need not worry for me future of London Transport. What a pleasure it is to hear a speaker who not only knows her subject deeply and almost with ardour, but who speaks in a clear, articulate way that even the deafest of us can readily follow. Add to all that, she is telling us about a man we have all heard of and - in my own case - secretly admired. Thus was our forty-five minutes spent after lunch at our September meeting when Joy Hooper told us the story of Thos. Cook and his ability to sell Tickets to all parts of the World. What drove our Thomas in his desire? Astonishingly, it was teetotalism, in a day when for the first time it was possible for people across the classes to afford to travel in a way that was instantly available to everyone, moving comfortably and quickly without any likelihood of highwaymen across the country and eventually the world. Thos.'s desire was to give the people something else to do instead of drinking every evening. The people he had in mind were those living in the north midlands around Melbourne in Derbyshire, where he was a cabinet maker by trade. His use of the new country-wide railway system made it all possible and his marrying a wife in the printing business enabled him to produce temperance magazines through which he was able to reach far beyond his immediate county and advertise his alternative to booze for the masses. "Take them where they have never been before and show them the delights of England" may well have been his thought, though the first excursion he arranged was to Liverpool. Well, in those days it was the biggest port in England, a truly international place where people from the world could be seen. Glasgow was another port he introduced them to, but when the Great Exhibition of 1851 came along, London was where everyone wanted to go and that is where and when he made his real money. Four years later the Paris Exhibition was his first international excursion and from there but a step to Switzerland. He built the railway to the top of Vesuvius, encouraged Christianity with arranged trips to the Holy Land. Everything laid on: the best hotels, food, travel were his customers to command. From there is was but a step to the New World and indeed the rest of the globe. Continuity beyond Thos. was assured by his son ("Thos. Cook & Son is the name of the company) and air travel was added after World War I. And now? The Moon? Great subject. Great speaker.
We welcomed Neil Gregson, lately of Harley Street, and Brian Thomas, of HM Civil Service as new members last month. There were only thirty-nine of us at lunch in September, sadly just about average. We really must attract more new members. Once again, after presentation me Haigh Trophy found itself in the golf-capable hands of Peter Mills. Congratulations to him (again). Tom Nevin wrote to thank us for sending his September Newsletter, though to his old address. Membership Secretary and others please note he is now at 9 Crofton Park Avenue, Bexhill-on-Sea, East Sussex, TN39 3SE. Telephone 01424 844005. His removal men were Poles with little English and had no idea where Bexhill was, but Tom's daughter speaks Russian and German and was able to explain, so when they had loaded the Nevins' 100 boxes and furniture and then taken out the bags of rubbish which were waiting for the binman, they set off, arriving at the new house five minutes before the family. They are settling in, though Pat picked up a nasal infection which has interrupted her's and Tom's sleep for a fortnight; but is getting better now. Tom and Pat are coming to the Annual Ladies' Lunch on October 20th., so we shall see them there. The trip organised by Jim Mulvey to view the sites of murders on the Thames turned out to be a great success. Around thirty of us caught the luxury river boat by Tower Bridge, then up the river to Westminster in the shadow of me Houses of Parliament where some 650 potential murder victims just await their due, which is where the lecture began as we journeyed down river past Somerset House, The Globe Theatre, under Blackfriars Bridge, past St. Paul's to the Tower, scene of the gruesome end of many. The East End produced dozens of murder stories and so to the Millennium Dome, where we turned back, enjoying a splendid afternoon tea on board. More murdering places were pointed out on the return journey and so safely back on dry land again, all bodies accounted for. A lovely day out. Phil Munson's list of recommended tradesmen is coming along, so if you have work to be done at home mat you cannot manage yourself, contact him and he may just have the very man you need. Nobody has told me of any news about members, so there are no updates to report. However, there are two inches or so of space to fill, so let me tell you about the upcoming programme for the Coulsdon & Purley Debating Society. We had a wonderful debate earlier this week with a visiting speaker from Croydon Mosque objecting to media reporting of Islamic threats. Next month we shall discuss how proud we are of being British; in December a light-hearted debate, 'Impatience is a virtue', followed in January to debate about the lack of privacy in this modern age. In February we go all serious, arguing the need for nuclear power and in March we discuss what constitutes a 'just' war, if there is such a thing. We meet on the first Monday of every month at the Coulsdon Centre, Grange Park, Old Coulsdon at 8 p.m. Contact me if you would like to visit, or even join. One of today's valedictory phrases is "Take Care!" This, for me has more than social value because it is born of experience. Some experiences have reinforced my instinct to 'take care'. Since bomb disposal I have developed a great respect for high explosives and recent events nearer home have confirmed this. Whilst I was walking across the end of a dock into which an aircraft carrier was being winched, there was suddenly a large "bang". A 6" steel wire rope had parted, which shot across the dock and caused a large dent in the boiler shop steel doors. Twenty yards back and I would have been torn in half. Whilst I was operating a pressure test on the front end of a Britannia aircraft, it suddenly exploded. I was lucky enough to be blown through the hangar doors. I was clearing my father's desk following his death when I was surprised to find a Mauser automatic pistol. As I picked it up there was a report and a large lump of the wall split into fragments. This pistol was loaded and cocked. A few degrees towards me and I would not have been writing this. Fifteen years ago I was playing tennis when I suddenly felt a searing pain in my left shoulder. It took months to heal. Five years after that I was delivering Newsletters when I tripped and went full length on a concrete path - and blow me, if I didn't seriously damage the same shoulder. Six months ago I was happily walking down a slipway in Salcombe when suddenly I was on my back - yes, the same shoulder took the grunt of the fall and Murphy's Law had once again triumphed. Six years ago I was lowering an 8ft. x 3ft. chipboard sheet down a ladder when it slipped and landed square on the joint of my right big toe. It will never be the same again. In the Army I didn't mind assault courses, but when we were obliged to crawl under a stream of tracer bullets which we were told were 10 feet off the ground I knew exactly what it was like to be a mole or a ferret and 'liquid bowels' ceased to be just a phrase. I was crewing for a friend on a 20 foot Bermuda sloop offWeymouth, when I looked up and saw a gigantic passenger/vehicle ferry heading straight for us. The word 'urgency' acquired immediate meaning and after frantic activity we just managed to clear its path, leaving us heaving, pitching and sweating. Ah well, such is life; see you soon - and take care!
Produced and edited monthly by Ian Scales (01737 553704)
|
||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||