Friday, April 25, 2008
Bored old people
I think I must be in danger of becoming one of these, having recently sent off quite a few enquiries about matters of no great importance. BH says it is half a function of getting older and half a function of having time on one's hands.
Shippams score highly, having both bothered to read my letter - the first two paragraphs of the reply being custom built - I allow the remainder as boiler-plate - and to reply. It is possible that they will check what their pot packing machines were doing on the day in question. Epsom Council do quite well on systems. That is to say I send an email to some query address. Their computer traps it, assigns it a reference number and sends me an acknowledgement. Quite soon, a person replies saying that they will reply properly soon. A day or so after that, a substantive reply saying that they can't reply as the matter is one of common law which they do not get into. Try citizens advice. They don't do email so I don't suppose I shall bother. I guess Epsom Council know from experience that giving anything close to legal advice is likely to involve them in work and bother they could do without - so if they can, they do.
The matter was dogs. An inhabitant of TB asserted that if the fence between him and his neighbour belonged to his neighbour, it was the responsibility of that neighbour to ensure that the inhabitant's dog could not get through the fence to foul the neighbour's garden. This struck me as sufficiently unlikely that I remembered, through the haze of NBrown, to check with Mr Google the following morning. I found that most local authorities and lots of doggy organisations have web material on the subject of dog control in a general way. Some circumstantial evidence that it is the responsibility of the owner of a dog to make sure that the dog stays on his land when not being taken out. But no simple statement about fences. One US website started getting into the land law of livestock management - but which, I imagine, is rather differant over there with there being so much more land. Which was why I then turned to the council. I suppose if I was rich, I would now fire off a missive to my solicitor who could then, having spent a happy couple of hours in the pub, spend a happy chargeable afternoon poking the subject around - much more fun than yet another conveyance or divorce. But I am not rich so I won't.
Various matters of interest on the way to Ely and back - including Denny Abbey mentioned earlier. Sailed past the grandly named Waste Management Park on the A10 North of Cambridge to find the fairly small hedgerow trees full of rooks' nests and rooks. The WMP might be grandly named but a tip was still a tip as far as keeping a bunch of rooks going was concerned. There used to be lots of seagulls there but did not see any on Wednesday.
On to the Lamb at Ely which is not a bad place at all to stay but where we find, on reading the small print, that the special Internet package of room and dinner costs slightly more than buying the special Internet package of room only and buying the meal when one gets there. And was too tired or too wet to complain when the house speciality of steak burger turned out to have been reheated from lunchtime. Or at least it tasted as if it had been. Still, the Greene King IPA was up to scratch. Having done that we then found that the riverside stank of drains after all the rain. And then that there was another establishment just down the road from the Lamb - a very long establishment running between two roads - at which a bevy of middle aged chaps were being very convivial and who, after being seated at a suitably long table, were served with what looked very like a school dinner. That is to say something like cottage pie but served in a large oblong tub at the end of the table, with the chap at that end of the table dishing out the portions for the convives. Just like we used to do at school. There was also a healthy smell of well boiled cabbage to round out the impression. We didn't get to see what they got for pudding but I hope it was steamed with custard. Too scruffy to be masons and we were not there long enough to inquire what they actually were.
In the morning discovered that Ely ran to two bakers - both traditional in appearance and with middle aged female staff with regional accents - but I did not like the look of the bread in either. Looked to have been made out of cheap flour and they were going for compete with Mr Sainsbury rather than for quality - presumably because there are still more poor people working the land in North Cambridgeshire than suburban types with time and money to fuss about their bread. On the up side, there was a pork butcher, so we were able to buy strips of pork belly - far too common to be visible for sale at Cheam. So pork belly strip baked under onion and sliced par-boiled potatoes for tea last night, the first time for some months, maybe even years. Used to be a staple. The butcher also sold us a couple of thick slices of what used to be called gala pie and which looked as if it he had made it himself. Jolly good picnic they made too. Whole lot for £3.50 or so. Not sure why two hefty looking country butchers felt the need to have a security camera in what was quite a small shop. But then we know (a lady) someone who used to sell such things and would probably have suceeeded in selling one to these chaps.
Bluebells out down the bottom of the garden, where the celandines are getting towards the end. First newt of the season spotted in the pond, where the king cups are full on. And the first starling in the garden for ages. Being harassed (probably sizually) by a magpie. There ought to be a law about it.
First visit to Cheam for a few days. Managed not to wear my gloves but would have done better not to wear jacket either. It was actually quite warm for once. Nearly ran into a lady who cut me up at a junction - turning left right in front of me - so had to buy a Bakewell to calm my nerves. Might even eat it later.
Shippams score highly, having both bothered to read my letter - the first two paragraphs of the reply being custom built - I allow the remainder as boiler-plate - and to reply. It is possible that they will check what their pot packing machines were doing on the day in question. Epsom Council do quite well on systems. That is to say I send an email to some query address. Their computer traps it, assigns it a reference number and sends me an acknowledgement. Quite soon, a person replies saying that they will reply properly soon. A day or so after that, a substantive reply saying that they can't reply as the matter is one of common law which they do not get into. Try citizens advice. They don't do email so I don't suppose I shall bother. I guess Epsom Council know from experience that giving anything close to legal advice is likely to involve them in work and bother they could do without - so if they can, they do.
The matter was dogs. An inhabitant of TB asserted that if the fence between him and his neighbour belonged to his neighbour, it was the responsibility of that neighbour to ensure that the inhabitant's dog could not get through the fence to foul the neighbour's garden. This struck me as sufficiently unlikely that I remembered, through the haze of NBrown, to check with Mr Google the following morning. I found that most local authorities and lots of doggy organisations have web material on the subject of dog control in a general way. Some circumstantial evidence that it is the responsibility of the owner of a dog to make sure that the dog stays on his land when not being taken out. But no simple statement about fences. One US website started getting into the land law of livestock management - but which, I imagine, is rather differant over there with there being so much more land. Which was why I then turned to the council. I suppose if I was rich, I would now fire off a missive to my solicitor who could then, having spent a happy couple of hours in the pub, spend a happy chargeable afternoon poking the subject around - much more fun than yet another conveyance or divorce. But I am not rich so I won't.
Various matters of interest on the way to Ely and back - including Denny Abbey mentioned earlier. Sailed past the grandly named Waste Management Park on the A10 North of Cambridge to find the fairly small hedgerow trees full of rooks' nests and rooks. The WMP might be grandly named but a tip was still a tip as far as keeping a bunch of rooks going was concerned. There used to be lots of seagulls there but did not see any on Wednesday.
On to the Lamb at Ely which is not a bad place at all to stay but where we find, on reading the small print, that the special Internet package of room and dinner costs slightly more than buying the special Internet package of room only and buying the meal when one gets there. And was too tired or too wet to complain when the house speciality of steak burger turned out to have been reheated from lunchtime. Or at least it tasted as if it had been. Still, the Greene King IPA was up to scratch. Having done that we then found that the riverside stank of drains after all the rain. And then that there was another establishment just down the road from the Lamb - a very long establishment running between two roads - at which a bevy of middle aged chaps were being very convivial and who, after being seated at a suitably long table, were served with what looked very like a school dinner. That is to say something like cottage pie but served in a large oblong tub at the end of the table, with the chap at that end of the table dishing out the portions for the convives. Just like we used to do at school. There was also a healthy smell of well boiled cabbage to round out the impression. We didn't get to see what they got for pudding but I hope it was steamed with custard. Too scruffy to be masons and we were not there long enough to inquire what they actually were.
In the morning discovered that Ely ran to two bakers - both traditional in appearance and with middle aged female staff with regional accents - but I did not like the look of the bread in either. Looked to have been made out of cheap flour and they were going for compete with Mr Sainsbury rather than for quality - presumably because there are still more poor people working the land in North Cambridgeshire than suburban types with time and money to fuss about their bread. On the up side, there was a pork butcher, so we were able to buy strips of pork belly - far too common to be visible for sale at Cheam. So pork belly strip baked under onion and sliced par-boiled potatoes for tea last night, the first time for some months, maybe even years. Used to be a staple. The butcher also sold us a couple of thick slices of what used to be called gala pie and which looked as if it he had made it himself. Jolly good picnic they made too. Whole lot for £3.50 or so. Not sure why two hefty looking country butchers felt the need to have a security camera in what was quite a small shop. But then we know (a lady) someone who used to sell such things and would probably have suceeeded in selling one to these chaps.
Bluebells out down the bottom of the garden, where the celandines are getting towards the end. First newt of the season spotted in the pond, where the king cups are full on. And the first starling in the garden for ages. Being harassed (probably sizually) by a magpie. There ought to be a law about it.
First visit to Cheam for a few days. Managed not to wear my gloves but would have done better not to wear jacket either. It was actually quite warm for once. Nearly ran into a lady who cut me up at a junction - turning left right in front of me - so had to buy a Bakewell to calm my nerves. Might even eat it later.
# posted by Jim @ 3:28 AM 
