Here in the U.K. we have a strange attitude to saving our historic landmarks, buildings of all shapes and sizes and of varying previous uses are allowed to rot in to the ground until someone tries to rescue it. As soon as the grade II listed pile of rotting timber, crumbling stone work and weed clogged roofs are purchased it becomes the responsibility of the new owners to protect our heritage that would have otherwise disappeared into the ground unnoticed.
I understand that any restoration would look better sympathetically done to keep the integrity of the monumental site, but surely any restorative work would be an improvement and a benefit to our environment. Purchasing such a site can be a lengthy and expensive process, requires foresight and the budget to make such a vision a reality. Architects, surveyors, planning officers and builders willing to take on a project with obvious engineering challenges all have to be employed and managed.
Then enters the conservation officer, undoubtedly a very professional person with a remit and clear definition of what is acceptable regardless of any financial restraints bestowed upon the luckless new owner. Advising, assisting and ultimately dictating what materials and methods are used to achieve a final aesthetically pleasing result. Without these people to protect fragile locations throughout our land places of interest could potentially be converted at the will of the owner, without the owners they could turn into dust.
We can often listen to the lyrics of a song and find a similarity to our mood at any given time, a fast and happy summer song, a lonely winter rhyme or a love ballad. That tune that reminds you of happier times, a magical moment or special person and the harder you listen the more it relates to your daydream.
Of course these emotions are intensified if you happen to be a little sad or alone with your thoughts at the time, at home, work or maybe sat in the car, but we all have at least one song ! Whats yours ?
All men are born equal, except some are more equal than others. Obviously we are all different in some way or form, more intelligent, more athletic and better paid to mention a few, but in a civilised world these are not considerations for a social hierarchy, generally, birds of a feather flock together, but in some circumstances you do have an eclectic mix.
Housing brings together all walks of life, from the poplar lined avenues of suburbia to the tower blocks of the inner cities, behind every door is a story changeable to that to the next, family histories, individual accounts and generic structures all very different. But some of our closest neighbours believe they have authority over you and your actions, and will compare their status to that of your own.
In short, if you were better than I, you would not be a neighbour of mine !
I am probably asking for trouble here, but I’m going to do it anyway. Give me your ideas on things that are not available on the internet search engines (excluding personal information of course), I bet the list is longer than you think.
The sex of an unborn child for example.
Councillor Tony Noyce has been invested as the now incumbent Mayor of the Eastleigh borough, although with little room at the new civic offices, the ceremony was an added performance for the Berry theatre in Hedge end.
Mr Noyce, a liberal democrat, has served as both a parish and borough Councillor for west end north and has been married to wife Janice for over 40 years. He replaces Malcolm Cross as mayor and is joined by his deputy mayor St john’s Ward Councillor Jane Welsh.
So, I have been to the dentist for the first time in a couple of years, and it was not that awful. I had convinced myself that I did not have the time or the budget didn’t allow, but I suppose the child in me came racing to the top and I was refusing to go. Being prompted by a letter stating that I would be excommunicated if I was not to attend shortly, I made an appointment, for two months later, that day had arrived.
Walking alone into the dental practice, here I was, a grown man not to be intimidated, and slowly a cloud of historic dust descended over me, with all the irrational fears of a child locked in a broom cupboard. At one point becoming agitated about the length of time I had been waiting, then realising that two minutes was not that long, suddenly I hear a shuffling sound of what can only be the noise of the dental nurses greens. Smiling as I agree that it is my name she is calling, I am ushered into a room of dental gadgets.
Spotting my hesitation, largely due to the beads of perspiration on my forehead, the attractive and very professional young lady dental practitioner immediately started to put me at ease, with a welcoming smile, a caring tone and radio four playing in the background. Was I really at the dentist? Did these people not have a queue to shorten by teatime? Apparently I was and they didn’t, and every effort was made to reassure me by taking me through every step, making it an easier experience.
So pleased with my new found confidence, that I booked the hygienist for the following day, who was again a delight. So all you out there who are hiding a smile or those on reality TV who would not need to pay much, spend a little time and money on you, after all, teeth are as hard as diamonds and are getting almost as rare.