Deadly Dublin

Having been given a few days off from work for good behaviour and not being allowed to transfer them, I was scraping around for something to do for a bit when I arrived at the idea of going to Dublin for a short trip to cover the Aylesburys there. I looked around for someone to go with, thinking that a Dublin trip might be an attractive proposition for someone with a love of beer and up for a good time, but this proved to be not a good time so I headed across the sea alone.

Travel to Dublin proved to be uneventful as BMI and BAA did their jobs well and I even got to sit in business class as there were so many spare seats in the plane. Arriving at Dublin airport was easy and having no luggage to collect I strolled out of the airport and onto a coach that went down to O Connell Street in the centre of Dublin where I was staying. Having sorted out my room from a disinterested hotel staff member, who I later discovered was the manager, I wandered down O Connell street and into the Temple bar district for a pint and some food and get my bearings.

Having wondered around the hectic city centre totally lost and quite tired I found a good chip shop called Malones and a lively Irish pub called 4 Dame Lane to have a pint and a chat to some businessmen out for a Christmas Drink.

Lots of places give you free maps in Dublin, they are all of the town centre and don’t include the important places of Dublin, so I wandered over to the tourist information centre to buy a proper map complete with Aylesburys and set off on a walk out of the town centre and out to the Aylesbury district of Dublin. On the way I passed this rather worrying coffee shop with some interesting characteristics and a statue of Oscar Wilde sitting on a rock.

He once said, “Whenever a man does a thoroughly stupid thing, it is always from the noblest motives.” I wondered how noble this quest for Aylesburys was as it certainly was a truly stupid quest. How Oscar Wilde would view this journey I think it would be with disdain and tell me to find something productive to do.

After a swift walk, I ended up in the Ailesbury district which is a very nice well to do area with lots of embassies and nice houses. The embassies seem to tell a tale of how rocky the home country’s relationship is with the Irish. For example the UK’s embassy is behind blast walls with security cameras and a military style gateway, given the way that the UK has acted in Ireland in the past, this is not surprising. The Norwegian embassy is totally open with almost an invitation to wander round and bounce on the sofas. Most weirdly, the US embassy, home of the Americans, best friends of the Irish, have a Martello tower type blast wall concrete bunker, cowering against all newcomers.

Amongst this embassy district are a number of streets names after British lords, lord Pembroke, and Lord Ailesbury. The first Ailesbury I arrived at was Bothar Aelsbaire or Ailesbury Road.

This has the Spanish embassy at the end and is a lovely street with large houses of well to do people and embassies all over.

Also on the right was the Ailesbury Clinic, a private clinic for well to do people and embassies.

I strolled down the street and passed Aylesbury Villa, home to the Pakistan embassy and on to Ailesbury Way so, a gated road, a bit strange, given that the houses behind the gate were much less extravagant than those out on the ungated Ailesbury Road. I turned right down past Ailesbury house and to Ailesbury Park, knocking off Aylesburys left right and centre, you have got to love unoriginal place naming from developers.



Ailesbury Gardens next to the tram stop soon followed, and I was off to find Ailesbury Mews soon after, getting thoroughly lost and ending up on the sea front before back tracking and returning to Ailesbury Mews another way.




I headed back down Ailesbury Road and past Ailesbury Oaks and Ailesbury Wood, more embassies and nice houses, Ailesbury Grove and Ailesbury Drive were perpendicular to each other and I strolled back down and along to Ailesbury Court, home to the Austrian Embassy and then off to find some lunch, a morning’s stroll successfully completed.










I wandered off to St Patrick’s cathedral in the afternoon and was especially taken with the history of Jonathan Swift and his religious and political writings. Then off to a comedy night at The International Bar called the Comedy Cellar. It is held in a room above the bar which is comically bad in design and facilities but was a great atmosphere. I found an IT programmer who had a girlfriend in Barton, not more than a mile to where I lived, an Argentinean Harry Potter fan and an American whose surname was Jameson, which provided some comedy ammunition for the comedians. I did not fit the comedy stereotype of an English tourist as I was not there on a stag night, had not flown Ryan Air and had not visited the Guiness Brewery at St James’s gate. They were left making general anti English jokes and left it at that. Everyone in the bar was very friendly and I had a great night.

The next morning I was off up the airport road to another Ailesbury, this time in a much less nice part of town, rather, I had to go through a much less pleasant part of Dublin to get to it, so I made sure I knew where I was going and kept my head down and walked up the road, past the anti British slogans and the pub celebrating the IRA heroes, hoping to avoid trouble. It was a pleasant walk and didn’t take much time to arrive the area this Ailesbury was in was nice enough but I didn’t want to linger too long and headed back down in to Dublin for the rest of the holiday, mission complete.

Manchester's Aylesburys 1 and 2

Manchester, not a place I have ever been to much, mainly as it is four hours drive from Aylesbury and that’s a long way to go in a day, its an even longer way to go there and back in a day, unless you have a very good reason. Well I had a good reason, my thesis into radiator positioning and heating efficiency is really a non starter unless I can get some financial aid from various people and one of them lives in Manchester, so that’s where I headed.Lots of exciting chat, lots of ideas exchanged. We shook on a deal. All good, headed off to my first Aylesbury of the day near the Trafford Centre, a nice area, presumably ideal for shopping. One of the great things about Manchester is the motorway ring road, which when not blocked, one can traverse the city at speed.So the 1st Manchester Aylesbury complete, I realised I had left my laptop at the company and so sheepishly drove all the way back to fetch it, hoping I didn’t look too much like an idiot.
This meant that my trip took a little longer than expected and so I only managed one other Aylesbury that day. Drove back to Aylesbury and had a lovely curry with some mates.

Doncaster, Macclesfield and Stoke on Trent

An army marches on its feet and a good trip always starts off with preparing good food to tide oneself through the day. Monday was no exception with a beautiful brawn and tomato sandwich with mustard. How brawn has dropped out of fashion is beyond me, it is a tastier option to the watery mushy excuse we have for ham nowadays and often cheaper.

I set off ready to hit the next batch of Aylesburys on the way and on the way back from my friends wedding reception. Basically a wonderful social event celebrating their marriage with lots of booze and a good time was had by all. Aiming to get to Sheffield before rush hour kicked in, I aimed for Doncaster for around 2ish and although hindered by the M1 widening road works, the journey was mostly clear. I benefited from a device which allows me to play my iPod through the car stereo so the music for the day was splendid.
Doncaster, place of the famous dome is a nice town and Aylesbury Road in Doncaster has clearly seen better days, looking as if it is made of 1930’s prefabs and refurbished housing, not looking particularly warm on the day I visited. Why is this Aylesbury here? Well I can’t really work it out. My 1st thoughts were that the nearby roads are names of famous Lords, however that would not explain the nearby Crecy drive. My best guess has to be famous castles, of which Aylesbury at one point may have had a castle, or a wooden defence line. It certainly doesn’t have one any more and the only linguistic remains of one currently known is the ubiquitously named Castle Street in Aylesbury, which for all we know could be a corruption of the name Cattle Street, an equally likely name for it given that Aylesbury is a market town.


After visiting I turned back down the M1 and returned to Sheffield, a place I have not been to in 2 years. It has changed a lot, some of it unrecognisable. On the way I passed this excellently named off licence which sold records, two great lines of business.

The nightclub Kingdom has been renamed Empire possibly after going though a relaunch. Be warned when that happens, look what happened to Julius Caesar. Arriving in Sheffield was fun and having avoided most of the rush hour traffic I made it up one of the large hills to where my old university friend was staying in an apartment on Daniel Hill.

The wedding reception was a nice one especially as it gave me the chance to catch up with old friends and see how everyone was doing and wish the bride and groom well.
The after party carried on till very early and so a lot of the next day was spent feeling extremely tired.
I did manage to catch up with another few old friends including a friend from Aylesbury, Will, who seemed impressed with the photos, no-one else ever does. I also saw a friend Jacqueline and we went to a restaurant called Bungalows and Bears which seemed bizarre at the least with kitsch tat everywhere but in a supposed cool style. Very strange, but nice in a chilled out way.
On the way home I heard a band playing in the West Street Live bar and went in to have a look. The bar was empty and as I walked in, the band stopped. I went to the bar, expecting to hear a bit more of the band, and if any good, would buy a drink. However they remained stopped, so I left. Not a great business model.

The next day I made my way across the peak district though Hope and the Devils Arse, still covered in snow to Macclesfield where another Aylesbury Road awaited. A really nice drive in the morning sunshine with great open spaces and no one else around. Macclesfield is a smallish town wish Aylesbury Close on the outskirts. One slightly interesting part are the stacked garages at the far end which are terraced down a slope, so that access to one is the roof of another in three layers. However, the vital flaw in these garages is that the roofs of these garages can’t support a weight of a car, leaving them as unstable buildings, risky to get in or out of. This development has clearly taken its name from the towns of Buckinghamshire with the next door road being Amersham Close, no controversy there.

Driving to Stoke on Trent next I was listening to the radio to hear that the Jamaicans had sent a relief boat to the earthquake hit island of Haiti. I can imagine the Jamaicans arrived at the Haitan relief effort bringing large home made pots of goat curry and crates of Red Stripe beer. There will be a more relaxed attitude to the rescue effort now and the Jamaican aid secretary has stated, “Don’t worry, about a thing, cause every little thing, it’s gonna be alright”

Stoke on Trent’s Aylesbury Road is a nice road where people have made the best out of a bad set of housing and have done up some of their houses to look quite nice. It is a skinny road and parking anywhere except straddling the pavement would make it difficult for others to pass by. I assume that this Aylesbury is just named after towns in the south of England, that’s the only link I can see from the names so far.

After all that and 3 days of fun I went home back to the normality of life.

Solihull and Plymouth

OK, so I haven't written these up. But similar story to before. Up to CAT stop off in Solihull, one of the most difficult places to get to off a motorway but worth it when I got there as the double header of Aylesburys gave me great pleasure. This sun was the only sun I had that week, despite studying solar thermal technology all week. The experiments were atrocious and the results appalling. But top marks to Chris Laughton, the tutor for the comedy dancing and outrageous costume.





As the week ended, I headed south through brilliant sunshine and driving rain. That being heavy rain, not rain that is convenient to drive in. There are crashes and lots of country lane driving, but eventually I hit Plymouth and found this Aylesbury perched on a hill with marvellous views, that my camera really doesn't begin to capture. Never mind. Followed that was a brilliant holiday with the guys and girls, absolutely fantastic.

Bristol

This weekend was a most interesting weekend, full of fun, culture and family. It began several months earlier when we were working out dates for our cousins to meet up. We set this weekend and a good job we did. The weekend started off for me driving to Swindon to pick up my brother Steve from the train station. Note: Aylesbury Road by Swindon train station, or No. 11 if you are counting. The soundtrack was courtesy of Pete Tong, radio 1, ‘starting the weekend’, a good clear journey.

Steve was let down by the trains and arrived an hour late.

We set off for Bristol and arrived within the hour at cousin Mary’s house, chilled out and had a beer. Cousin Paul joined us from Brighton and the party was complete, the weekend could begin.
Next morning, we legged it across town to the Bristol Museum to see banksy v.s. Bristol Museum. Banksy is a graffiti artist who delivers high quality graffiti to middle class people. A lot of the art is subversive in a delicate way, not too offensive or challenging and clever in a simple way. So walking around the exhibition is like going to see a stand up comedian whose act is a series of gags; There are lots of small jokes, they make you chuckle, you have got the point of the art, then you move on, it doesn’t test you too much and you don’t need an art degree to understand it. Because of this reason, plus banksy is famously notorious, and mainly the exhibition is free, we queued for a bit to get in.
Highlights of the exhibition for me was the girl in the blow up bullet proof jacket, as it showed genuine vulnerability emphasised by the stylized abstraction of the stencilling. Also the virtues were very good, hedonism and consumerism were put on plinths ready to join justice, prudence, fate and temperance.





Both were of course plaster and plastic, not set in the stone of the others. The best bit of the exhibition was the fact that people had to go in search of other banksy works in the rest of the museum, giving people a chance to see some of the other marvellous exhibits and be surprised and enriched at what they saw. So as a typical middle class person into pop culture and stand up comedy, I loved it.
Pop culture makes you hungry so we headed to a Moroccan stall in Bristol’s covered market and had a good lunch of Moroccan lamb and couscous. I hope this stall recognises its success in recreating the Moroccan street market feel and doesn’t go up market to a building and a restaurant, it would be a shame, losing some of the experience of eating in a market stall in Bristol. Suitably nourished, we headed over to St Pauls and the street carnival there.
I didn’t know what to expect from this carnival, never having heard of it before the Friday night. It was brilliant. The music was fantastic and the floats and procession was great, it really matched the weather and everyone was there for fun. We watched the parade of the various groups, taking in the various cultures and tapping our feet to the music, then set off for the centre stage and soaked up the sun, Red Stripe, music and rum punches.
Round dinner time we were feeling peckish so headed home had a shower some pasta and went out again to the Apple, a cider bar on the Severn, a great place. Good ciders, can’t remember what the perry I was drinking was, but it was good. We finished the evening with some cake I had made, which went down well.
After a great night we had a lie in and woke up round 9:30, got up and headed to the home of Champion the Wonder Horse, Weston Super Mare. It was a long and circuitous route through various jolly industrial estates and wonderfully landscaped retail parks to the sea front, which turned out to be not much better. We had a look at the sea, miles out, stuck in the usual place, above the land and below the sky, a view that is often described when a tsunami is imminent. Children were rooting around in the mud, much like peasants from medieval times.
There was a sand sculpture exhibition on the beach which was stingy as students did not count as concessions. So we regrettably paid full price, determined to maintain the high cultural level we had established the previous day despite the council’s disregard to the state of student finances. If anyone asks how to attract a younger audience to ‘traditional’, read ‘generally rubbish’ seaside towns, mention making it cheaper for students who don’t have budgets to go abroad or go on fancy holidays. It was a good display of sculpture and some clever sand works, including a cascade of rays and a detailed inside of a sub.
We considered playing crazy golf, but the onset of rain would have meant that it would have been more than crazy to play to play golf, more like insane or psychotic golf, so we gave up on that idea and left. Clearly from our experience, ‘super’ is an ironic name, like ‘Great’ Yarmouth. We looked at a map and found out a much quicker route than the sign posts directed. I recommend you do the same incase you find yourself in Weston super mare and need an escape route, perhaps when a tsunami eventually arrives.
We got back to Mary’s and got a BBQ going. Unfortunately the rain had followed us there and we managed to get the cooking done on the fire, but had to eat inside.
After lunch we packed up and got moving ready to get home and ready for work. I had one obvious detour to conduct, and just down the road in Bedminster is a circle of fun, Aylesbury Road and Aylesbury Crescent.

My brother’s second and third Aylesburys, wow three in a weekend, I don’t know how he handled it but he managed to suitably contain his excitement. The streets are quite well kept and have some really nice houses on. I think they were 1930’s housing and apart from the skips up and down the street and the messy builders house on the corner, it was a good road.

We set off for Swindon to drop Steve off, then Reading, as once again the railways let him down, then home accompanied by the end of the Men’s Tennis Wimbledon Final. A great weekend, thanks Mary, Paul and Steve. We will have to do it again sometime.

Birmingham's Aylesbury

The sky is blue, the day is fine
I am off on a little jolly to North Wales to continue my Msc course in Advanced Environmental and Energy Studies. But on the way time for a quick stop off in Birmingham, just a small detour from the motorway, down a couple of roads and the arc of goodness that is Aylesbury Crescent. It was bin day when I visited and there were lots of compost bags outside people’s houses. I am yet to understand this logic. Fair enough some people do not have gardens, so do a good job to share their waste garden material with others.



However if you do have a garden, then allow the stuff to compost over the year. Surely you would be using more energy by having a lorry come round and pick it up and then have machinery move it at the tip. Then more machinery to process it to distribute it. Just burn it, if it is a voracious weed, or compost it in your garden and keep things simple.
The school on Aylesbury Crescent looked a fun place with lots of colour and grafitti, a real community place. I hope it gets used a lot for other stuff. There seemed to be a youth building at one end. A great idea as young people often need places just to be together, rather than things to do and spend money.
CAT this time was quite fun with a group project trying to look at the best way to build up a housing block on a Greenfield site. The week went well, still haven’t written my essay, but oh well, consider this as part of my procrastination time.

Skeggy Aylesbury

Spring Harvest happens every year in various Butlins holiday camps around the UK. It is not a place where the UK’s farmers bring their crops of newly sprung springs for testing and grading, but a Christian holiday week with lots of bible teaching, worship and fun for people of all ages and abilities.
This was my 1st time to Skegness and my 1st time as to spring harvest except a visit as a child. This is really a follow on from the previous Aylesbury find as I was in Derby because there was a preparation day for this event there and I was doing the visuals for the X:site team who were running the 8-11s programme.
Spring Harvest is a very well established event and getting up to speed with it is impossible in a short space of time. Lots of people all turn up all at once and get very busy instantaneously, like a hive of ants. There was me after a 3 hour car journey cast into the hasty setup day not a clue where I was to sleep, if I was going to sleep, where to eat, when to eat, trusting that somewhere in the huge organism someone would have remembered me and sorted those things out. Luckily they had and although the first day was hectic and I didn’t stop until midnight sorting visuals out it all worked smoothly and all was OK.
Wednesday afternoon, I had time off and took the opportunity to visit this Aylesbury. Over lunch, I told my room mate Simon about my search and I think he took it rather well, although he was not really keen to join me on the pleasant jolly into Skegness. He asked if I had heard of Dave Gorman, which I have and think he is a very good comedian with a good friendly humour, looking for the eccentric, unusual and ultimately good in human nature. When I told Simon about the spread sheet, he was most amused, can’t think why?
After lunch I set off to find Aylesbury Drive in Beacon Park Skegness. It is in a place where there are lots of bungalows and I saw a few elderly residents and some young couples with children. It is a nice estate, well ordered and with lots of neatly kept gardens and large amounts of gravel and low maintenance gardens. There are several large ponds which the houses sit around and that is where this Aylesbury gains its name as part of the local bird population or Kingfisher, Mallard and Swan, the Aylesbury Duck connection is there once again. I had a little wonder up and down the road and observed the little pieces of kitch garden statuary and ornaments and thought what a thoroughly nice place to live. Despite the rather confusing signage, clearly designed to baffle everyone.

I continued to Skegness beach and enjoyed paddling in the sea, the first time this year and trying to take pictures of the large off shore wind farm, occasionally catching a glimpse of the turbines through the haze.
The rest of the week was very busy and ultimately can be considered a great success. At the end I was given a ‘geek of the week’ award, I can’t put my finger on the reason though. Perhaps some things will remain a mystery.

Aylesbury Derby

March, beautiful sunshine spring has truly sprung. It was Saturday and on for the long drive up to Derby, I was on the road by 08:30 watching the sun burn through the light golden haze in the sky. The run was good and getting there was easy. One small problem was that my Sat Nav device had been set up for Afikaans as the voice, which I don’t speak, unsurprisingly. One thing I noticed about the Afrikaans, was that the voice was very well done and had a considerate tone to it, much more preferable to the harsh instructive tones of the English voice. Perhaps I could try out other voices in the future and see which are nicer to listen to, then learn that language and its directions.
The reason why I was in Derby was for a preparation day for X:Site at Spring Harvest in Skegness Butlins in April, a week of fun activities for 8-11 year olds. The team were all nice people and I think a lot was achieved and made clearer that day. I certainly left with a list of things which I needed to have a look at and get on with.
After the day was finished at around 1600, I set off for the Aylesbury Avenue in Chaddeston, Derby.
The street was quiet, deserted except for a friendly Manx cat which seemed very lonely and was happy to say hello.

This Aylesbury seems to be named after Aylesbury, the place. All the streets around are other place names in the UK and I can find no link to another set of data, or a list of names.
There is a new development which kind of scuppers the whole taking pictures of Aylesbury as places and that is Google’s Street view. For example here is the Streetview in Google, compared to my photo. Now in future I will need to make sure myself is in the photo or take something of mine to put in the photo too. Everything becomes slightly more complex. That’s normal.

Eastbourne's Admirable Aylesbury

Well this is my 1st Aylesbury for 2009, it certainly won’t be the last. This little beauty is nestled in the retirement town of Eastbourne on the South Coast of England. It is a nicely set out street of homely, well, houses and all kept nice and neat. I had a quick walk up and down the road and was all very pleasant. Nothing remarkable about it.



Now you may be asking what is an Aylesbury doing in Eastbourne? A bit ridiculous. Where did the town planners get that idea from?
I researched various street names around the area and they are all names of famous admirals eg.

Admiral Edward Boscawen, PC, RN (August 19 1711 – January 10 1761) was a British admiral and politician

Ramsey Way Sir Bertram Home Ramsay KCB, KBE, MVO (20 January 1883 - 2 January 1945) was a British admiral during World War II. He was an important contributor in the field of amphibious warfare.

Gardner Close Alan Gardner, 1st Baron Gardner (12 February 1742 - 1 January 1809)

Wade Close Field Marshal George Wade (1673–March 14, 1748) served as a British military commander and Commander-in-Chief of the Forces.

Sturdee Close, Admiral of the Fleet Sir Frederick Charles Doveton Sturdee, 1st Baronet, GCB, KCMG, CVO (9 June 1859 - 7 May 1925) was a British admiral.

Cunningham Drive, Admiral of the Fleet Andrew Browne Cunningham, 1st Viscount Cunningham of Hyndhope, KT, GCB, OM, DSO (7 January 1883 – 12 June 1963),

Drake Avenue, Sir Francis Drake, Vice Admiral (c. 1540 – 27 January 1596),

Fraser Ave, Admiral of the Fleet Bruce Austin Fraser, 1st Baron Fraser of North Cape GCB, KBE (5 February 1888 – 12 February 1981)

Hood Close, Various Admirals of that name

Beatty Road, Admiral of the Fleet David Beatty, 1st Earl Beatty GCB, OM, GCVO, DSO (17 January 1871 – 11 March 1936)

Raleigh Close, Sir Walter Raleigh or Ralegh[1] (c. 1552 – 29 October 1618), was a famed English writer, poet, soldier, courtier and explorer.

Jervis Ave, John Jervis, 1st Earl of St Vincent GCB PC RN (9 January 1735–14 March 1823)

Jellicoe Close, John Rushworth Jellicoe, 1st Earl Jellicoe, GCB, OM, GCVO (5 December 1859 – 20 November 1935) was a British Royal Navy admiral who commanded the Grand Fleet at the Battle of Jutland.

Mountbatten Dr, Louis Francis Albert Victor Nicholas Mountbatten, 1st Earl Mountbatten of Burma, KG, GCB, OM, GCSI, GCIE, GCVO, DSO, PC (25 June 1900 – 27 August 1979)

Princes Road, Edward VII (Albert Edward; 9 November 1841 – 6 May 1910)
Collingwood Close

Fisher Close, Admiral of the Fleet John Arbuthnot "Jackie" Fisher, 1st Baron Fisher of Kilverstone,[3][4] GCB, OM, GCVO (25 January 1841 – 10 July 1920)

Collumbus Way, Vice-Admiral Philip Howard Colomb, RN (May 29, 1831 - October 13, 1899).

Cabot Close, (c. 1450 – c. 1498)[2], known in English as John Cabot, was an Italian navigator and explorer commonly credited as the first European to discover North America, in 1497, notwithstanding Norseman Leif Ericson's landing (c. 1003). The Canadian and United Kingdom government's official position is that he landed on the island of Newfoundland.

Vian Ave, Sir Philip Louis Vian (15 July 1894-27 May 1968) was a British naval officer who served in both World Wars.

Aylesbury’s famous Admiral is from the Baronet Aylesbury, a title which no longer exists.
Sir Thomas Aylesbury (1576 – 1657) was born in London, joined Christ Church Oxford in 1598 and was a dab hand at mathematics. He became Assistant to Charles, Earl of Nottingham, who was Lord High Admiral of England. When George Villiers seceded Charles, Aylesbury was made Master of Requests, (a post that should be resurrected for local night clubs to guarantee good music is played) and also Master of the Mint (not the polo variety) When the civil war broke out, Aylesbury stayed on the royalist side and consequently had to flee to Antwerp in 1649 once King Charles I was beheaded and the cause was lost. He died abroad in Breda. His son was the last of the baronets of Aylesbury.



Here is a picture of him by William Dobson (1611-1646), who was a portrait painter.
Thomas Aylesbury is in a rather serious mood wearing the robes of the Master of Requests, and is holding, as an symbol of his office, a petition to the king. Behind him on the left is a view of Oxford and on the right, an antique bust thought at the time to represent Seneca, a stoic philosopher, dramatist, and pleader of causes.

Clearly a person worth of naming a road after.
That day I also made a trip to Earthship Brighton to have a look at a possible new way to design homes. It was very impressive and well worth a visit. It is an off grid, off mains, off water house, entirely self reliant. It is made of car tyres and timber and is a very nice place. All the heating is regulated by the thermal mass inside and that which is generated by the sunlight.
I agree that micro power generation and self sufficiency are a good thing, if you are in the desert, in a country with an unreliable power grid and no safe running water, however it does seem to bee a bit over the top for a city where power is reliable and water is plentiful. I suppose that if you are creating it and storing it, you will be more careful with it in the long run and there is guarantee for the future that supplies will be reliable. Overall I think the building is a success and if more people are aware of it and the extreme future it portrays, they might feel a bit more inclined to modify their way of living to minimise energy use, recycle and use water more efficiently, like in water butts.

The day before the day before the night before christmas

Basildon is blessed in many ways, it is a beautiful town with a good population and also it happens to have two Aylesburys, like Sheffield, and is a fairer place because of it. I set off on the quest to find Aylesburys, dropping by my friend Joe’s house to take him along as a travelling companion. He is a useful and excellent map reader. Driving to places on your own is certainly not ideal with a map between your legs, it tends to lead to me getting lost and nearly crashing, the worst of both worlds. Joe is not new to Aylesbury hunting, having been with me for Slough’s Aylesbury a couple of year’s back. He also brings with him photography skills, a good sense of humour, an excellent map reader, an enthusiasm for the absurd, a laptop and mince pies which made an excellent breakfast.
We set off round the M25 which was swelled with Christmassy traffic, for it was the day before the night before the night before Christmas. Our ultimate goal was to pick up my brother from Cambridge via a rather long circuitous route, involving two days driving, and an overnight stay, but it was all worth it. It was all smooth running to Basildon and after taking a few wrong turns we were in Aylesbury Mews our 20th Aylesbury and first stop of the day. Our friend Cucumber texted Joe to ask whether he wanted to play football that evening, as he knew that Joe may not have gone with me that day if he had seen sense, or had more important things to do. Luckily he hadn’t and I sent him this photo back as a reply.

Aylesbury Mews is a small cul de sac of houses built in the early 1990’s and is well kept and tidy. There was an interesting set of Christmas decorations around one fir tree that looked as if it had tried to escape and someone had thrown a football goal net around it to lash it to the floor. It didn’t look very Christmassy more like a forlorn trapped animal.
Having ticked off another Aylesbury, we set off for our 21st Aylesbury. This was to be in the sunny town of Clacton on Sea, a place which I did not have high hopes for. It was a long drive to Clacton and we got there around lunch time. We parked at our next Aylesbury and went to take some photos. A family were just leaving their drive and looked on in great interest and fear as we tried to take timed photos of us by the Aylesbury sign. Slightly embarrassed as to what we were doing, we paused our failing photo taking and waited until we could continue undisturbed, not that we were doing anything dodgy.

The housing estate was some 1970’s housing and was quite pleasant, only a stones throw from the sea front, so we proceeded down to the front to find some fish and chips and have a break from driving. As now walking around felt incredibly slow, almost sluggish, everything looked as if it should be going past my eyes at 70 miles per hour and my hands were slightly numb from the vibration of the steering wheel. We got down to the sea front and walked along it. It was pretty sombre, lots of places either dilapidated and looking as if they should be demolished, or under scaffolding. Arcades full of loose promises, flashing lights and unsubstantiatable claims, like “unlimited fun” “ultimate pleasure”. Realistically the arcades were empty of fun, punters and potential.
We found a cracking fish and chip shop off the sea front and in the town centre, it was busy, a good sign, and I got some rock and chips as an alternative to cod, Joe went for the battered sausage. Very nice fish and only £4.00, tidy. We sat on the sea front looking at the sorry pier offering ‘family entertainment at its best, free entry for thrills galore’. On top of a nearby building we saw some depressed pigeons considering the jump, fish and chips were advertised at an extortionate £7.20. It was as if we had taken a punt on a giant Aylesbury slot machine and won nothing. There was only one thing left to do… we walked along the pier. We were greeted by the worst Christmas decoration on our trip. A dog, in a bag, being held by radioactive dwarf Santa, in a cage. The worst Cliff Richard music was being played on a terrible 100v line system.

On the pier was the Jungle safari, two plastic cactii, not traditionally jungle plants were embarrassingly placed next to a giant gecko and a small rope bridge. This was not ‘family entertainment at its best’.
We decided to leave quickly as we had had enough of the pier and Clacton. As we drove down the front, the war memorial looked decidedly quality with its neat beds of flowers and well clipped grass. It lived up to its expectations unlike so much of the rest of Clacton-on-Sea. We were off to Norwich, a long way north up A roads, not dual carriageways, the going was slow, especially as we started off on country lanes stuck behind a very slow driver, who travelled 10 mph below the speed limit and as the roads were small and windy, we could not overtake them.
We at last made it up to Norwich after Joe turned DJ and played some tunes on his laptop. We asked ourselves, has Weezer ever supported Iron Maiden at a gig or been on the same bill as them at a festival? We encountered a lot of traffic at Stanton due to a nasty crash on the high street there and so had to make it to Norwich via an altered route. This was an Aylesbury too many today. I was getting dangerously tired from driving and was starting to doubt the search’s success. I had driven over Essex, Suffolk and Norfolk, for what? To see some signs that some unimaginative county council had erected, couldn’t you think up some names from local history or natural wildlife rather than tarring the good name of Aylesbury with this shambles? Nothing we saw that day was inspiring, imaginative or beautiful beyond what I normally see. What was the point? The original idea was to see interesting bits of the country and see more of Britain. Today all I had seen was mediocrity and dreariness. I had bitten off more than I could chew and it was hard to swallow. I gritted my teeth and we made it to our third Aylesbury that day. On the way, we passed the sign “School for the deaf and dumb” made famous by Steve Coogan in series 1 of I’m Alan Partridge, “Will there be noise, won’t there be noise?” Also on the A140, off to the left was a Partridge Way, perhaps nothing to do with the naming of Alan Partridge, perhaps named in honour of him. But at least a nice stamp on Norwich of his comedy existence. We found Aylesbury Close, took a picture, turned around, and left, keen to get to Cambridge as soon as possible powered on by chocolates and water.

We hit Cambridge at around 1900 and went for a curry at a restaurant where the maitre d’ makes enthusiastic grunting noises and is generally funny, the food is cheap and nice and you can be quite rowdy. My curry has broad bean size green pods in, for a medium hot curry, it was very hot, then I realised these were chilli pods and were very hot. Desserts were amazing with a frozen banoffee pie and lemon sorbet in a lemon, probably freshly made circa 1973. We discussed the day and all the events and decided to make a lot of jelly as we hadn’t had any in a long while and needed something silly to do. So on the way home we bought enough jelly for 10 pints and made it to set that evening. The next morning we ate jelly for breakfast and had a huge sandwich with 50 hams for lunch and drove home, ready for Christmas.

Beer for Brains

This is my 1st international Aylesbury, in the country of Wales, a country which uses beer as a synonym for brains, similar to the idea that “wine makes mummy clever”, possibly a reason why it never really expanded. Incidentally a Norwegian guy discovered that alcohol had a negative effect on scientific output, that is, that the more you drink the less papers you will publish.
I was there because of a friend’s stag weekend, who had decided to go to the Brecon Beacons for a jolly. I drove up on the Friday picking up a guy called Charlie from his home in Amersham and made it to Cardiff by 8:30pm and met up with several other people from Dave’s past and present. We went for a curry selecting the place from a wide variety of Cardiff’s many curry houses and takeaways. In the takeaway, we noticed several interesting articles in the local paper including “man caught driving without a licence gets 2 month driving ban” How does that work, if you don’t have a licence, you aren’t allowed to drive anyway. Also, “streaker seen in pay and display”. Need I explain more?
We woke up the next morning and I realised I did not know where this Aylesbury was in the city so asked Dave if I could look it up. Charlie was vaguely interested and described my search as “something to do before I die”. Clearly a good strategist when it comes to planning, transport is usually difficult for dead people. I worked out where in Cardiff was and that it would work out if I went whilst going home, so I safely stowed my directions in my bag.
We set off to the Brecon beacons hopelessly lost and took a most meandering route to the campsite, randomly arriving before some of the others due to the wonders of Chris’s map reading and navigational skills. The campsite owner was most hospitable and understanding of us. He said that in the previous stag do a guy had tried to hit him with a baseball bat, but couldn’t because he had tied him to a bench, so we knew we were safe, there clearly weren’t enough benches. Dave’s housemates made a tonne of sandwiches for us. We had a wail of a time; we went for a walk and ended up climbing up a mountain. This was a tiring type of mountain that kept having false tops, so that when you hit one, you could see another a distance away. Once we all reached the top we made human pyramids, getting really organised, we were two people away from the 15 man pyramid, but managed the 10 man pyramid perfectly OK.
Once we had got down the mountain, we got down to doing a BBQ, playing touch rugby, having a bonfire, basically a great time to catch up with people and get to know new friends.
The next morning we did sausages and bacon, got packed up and drove up to a reservoir. I got the car stuck on a steep incline but Charlie rescued me from the slope, hill starts back in Aylesbury never were that bad. When we got to the reservoir we had an early morning dip in the chilly waters. The water was so cold that plunging in made you want to shiver all over and keep moving so your muscles did not seize up. After several jumps into the lake we made our moist way home to Cardiff, soggy shorts successfully flying out the window.
We had lunch in the pub up the road from Dave’s house and thought about going home. I posited my plan to go to an Aylesbury and one individual, who shall not be named, claimed Aylesbury is the worst place in the world! Clearly they were unenlightened and at some point will see the error of their ways.
Charlie and Chris joined our merry jaunt as we set off on our way home, beautiful sunshine, groovy music, party time. We got off the dual carriageway and went down a welsh sounding, Pantmawr Road and then on to lots of roads called Park something: Park Road, Park Lane, Park Crescent and Park Park Park.
On the right was a set of shabby flats, clearly not even a mansion, despite the label of Aylesbury Mansions, let alone several. Both lads were keen to get going, so I quickly got a photo and we got out of there ASAP. Oh what a good way to round off the weekend. I dropped Chris in Bristol and Charlie in Amersham and got home through the fairly heavy Sunday afternoon traffic. Good job well done.

Essex Aylesburys

The Aylesburys I have visited have so far been in easy to reach locations, situated around places that I go to on a regular basis, or have been quite cheap for me to get to. So for example, Aylesbury in Slough, I knew it was there, I had it on my list, however as I was there anyway, it was a simple find. Aylesbury in Burbage, pretty easy, within cycling distance of my dad’s flat in Swindon, so staying there 2 days enabled me to visit the various Aylesburys in that area.
These next two Aylesburys are a step up in the game of Aylesburys. These involved actually having to go to them purposefully as there is not really any reason why I would go there normally, although I did create an excuse for myself that, because I had a PAT testing machine waiting for me in Gillingham, Kent, I could visit these two on the way back, despite there out of the way nature.
The day was definitely one of change, rain one second, sunshine the next. I set off down the A41, stopped at Hemel Hempstead for some fuel, as it is marginally cheaper to buy it there than in Aylesbury and had a quick chat with the lady behind the counter about sleepy times of day. For some reason, everyone has a time of day where they suddenly feel really tired or sleepy, then half an hour later, they are ok again. Mine is round half past 4 in the afternoon, or midnight if I get past those two I am ok. So presumably it should also happen at 8 in the morning as this makes a 3 times a day cycle.
I made it round the M25, an achievement as I have never driven on a motorway, it wasn’t as scary as everyone makes out. I tried to avoid hogging the middle lane and leave lots of space between me and the car in front and always indicating when going between lanes, so I think I did ok. I made it to Gillingham at 1245 and met Ian, the retired electrician who was selling me his old PAT tester (which is silly as PAT stands for Portable appliance tester, so infact you are actually saying Portable appliance tester, tester, a bit like a Personal Identification Number, number). This machine allows you to test the electrical insulation of an appliance and is part of a series of tests to see if it is safe. Ian was a kind man, who gave me a cup of tea and we talked property prices, Princes Risborough and of course PATs.
Refreshed, I set off for the 1st Aylesbury of the afternoon in Basildon. A very difficult Aylesbury to reach as the roundabout that I was ready to turn right to get to it, was turned into a straight road so no opportunity to get to it. I got lost in a maze of roads none of which had names or were on my map. Eventually I saw a road named Durham Road which was on my map, so I was saved. I followed it around, squeezed through a really small gap with lots of vicious bollards and followed my map to Aylesbury Drive. A 1990s housing estate with lots of preplanted trees, standardised prefabricated red brick houses and faux individualism.



I grabbed some chicken sandwiches by some garages and set off to Braintree, the wrong way down the A130. Canvey Island was interesting but blurry and once back on the right side of the carriageway I left it far behind. Again Google.co.uk maps failed me, a road that was shown as linking into an estate was nowhere to be found. I drove round the maze of the next set of roads trying to get my way back to the roads listed on the map. Nothing, so I tried from the other side of the estate and arrived there instantly. How annoying.



Now it was raining buckets and very miserable. I faced a long drive back home round the M25. Luckily the journey back was uneventful and as I came down the hill to Aston Clinton the storm clouds gathered around Aylesbury, thick black rolling clouds that made day into night, sheet rain and long queues of traffic.
That night I went to my friend Dave’s house where we had pancakes as it was Shrove Tuesday and played Rapidough, a game where half the fun seems to be arguing who won each round, a good laugh.

Aylesbury Street, MK

Milton Keynes, supposedly the city of the car, because you are in a mess if you don't have one. Appropriately the first Aylesbury that I have visited which I have driven myself to, what fun!.
A light sunny January morning, I packed my camera and got some maps together and set off from Aylesbury, for Aylesbury. I decided to go on the back roads on the way there, through Winslow and up into Milton Keynes through Stony Stratford. On the way I saw quite a few birds of prey, went past the house Tony Blair was reportedly intrested in buying and, for the sake of local residents, thankfully didn't. I travelled through some chocolate box villages like Thornton and Beachampton which maintained their rural attributes.
I arrived in Aylesbury around lunchtime to find it part of the old Milton Keynes, the old town of Wolverton. It was a one way street of red brick terraced houses, terraced cars and narrow pavements. It is a very long straight street with little alleyways giving access to back gardens along overgrown passages.



A group of pensioners passed the day in the square with a small parade of shops. There was a Milton Keynes Christian Foundation Centre there, where all Milton Keynes Christians are started off. I looked through the window expecting to see trenches and pile engineers, there weren't any, but there was a creche with a pile of Duplo bricks, so clearly the foundations of Milton Keynes Christians begin with something different, not bricks and mortar, a good way to build your church.
I left Aylesbury Street and set off to Milton Keynes shopping centre, on the way courteously let through a narrow gap in the parked cars by a kind lady and given a free parking ticket by a different kind lady. I set off to the Sony Centre to see what they could do about my handycam's active interface shoe and its lack of a microphone. Clearly being Sony, they don't even sell an adaptor for the handycam and you have to buy a seperate mic with a special socket for about £70. How wonderfully incompatible, they clearly think they are special.
So having saved money by not buying anything, I drove home. I went the main road route this time, via the Linslade bypass which has no hard shoulders, a very dangerous thing methinks, especially as people go very fast down that road. No excuses really, they took long enough to build it. I think the council should ask for their money back. I got home and had beetroot and venison, which is great going for a leftovers meal.

Youth Tunez 2

Hooray!
Good News, the hotel had the projector all along, apparently they didn't think it was a projector but thought it was a handbag and were loath to mention it to us as we could have nicked it. A whole weight has been lifted off my back and I am now in the clear.

Youth Tunez

Well, what a couple of days. I found something wonderful, lost something valuable and had a rollercoaster of emotions.

Youth Tunez, well the name is self explanatory, is an Asian Christian Youth network, when I say ‘is’ that is different from before Tuesday 31^st July as before then, I would have said ‘will be’. Youth Tunez was launched on Tuesday 31^st July in Slough by the lovely Michelle Gill and her auntie Aster. Why I am telling you this is probably quite obvious due to the nature of this website, but what was I doing at the launch of an Asian Christian Youth network, being neither a youth or Asian? Well I was being a Christian, and being a good friend of Michelle, I took along a PA and AV system to help the show run smoothly.

We set off on our great journey, in 2 cars full of anticipation, PA kit and nerves as this was to be a great show, I was confident we had everything and knew the ropes, others were more nervous about impressions and how it would run. My mate Joe who kindly came along to watch was on fire as we came up for a wide game around Coventry to amuse new students, familiarise them with Coventry and offer them the opportunity to win great prizes. We talked in the car and were warned of people who think they know everything who try to take over the place, with that in mind we entered Slough.

“Come friendly bombs and fall on Slough!
It isn't fit for humans now,
There isn't grass to graze a cow.
Swarm over, Death!”

Slough, John Betjeman (1937)

(due to a striking coincidence I had involvement in helping to create a CD of John Betjeman’s lesser known poems for the Edinburgh fringe of 2007 read by Lance Pierson, funny how names pop up like London buses, coming along in pairs (not arriving late))

Now, Slough is not one of the nicest places in the world but I hardly think bombing the place would improve it. If anything, bombing a place makes it a lot worse, as the Americans and the terrorists have kindly shown us, mind you, perhaps there is psychology going on, by eagerly inviting bombing, terrorist's targets are moved, as the possibility of actually benefiting a government through an attack becomes a real one. Of course this possibility has always existed, hence the theories of economic imperialism in the 1890s and conspiracy theories such as, that the aerial attacks on the World Trade Centre were staged to allow America to build an oil empire in the Middle East, but few defence academics have written about national defence being sought through poetry. Thankfully the ploy has worked, the pen is mightier than the sword and there is a place where we could do the gig.

As we turned up the road leading to Baylis house I saw what can only be described as a little beauty of a find on the right hand side, “Hughenden Road leading to Aylesbury Crescent”, what a sight! I exclaimed, “we have got to go to that place and get a picture” Michelle laughed without knowing that I would not leave Slough without doing so or what she had just caught a glimpse of. Joe made a great point that my assumption that all Aylesburys must be in some way associated with the original Aylesbury to be false. What if the ethos of an Aylesbury copy was copied, the new place would be incredibly unlike the original Aylesbury? Well its like the old gas problem, what if 100ml of helium were put in 1l of oxygen which was then put into 10l of nitrogen. No matter how much gas you take out of the resulting mixture, a proportionate amount of helium would be in that mixture allowing you to see the origin of the source.

Baylis House was OK, we sorted out the un hoovered carpet and got rid of the unwanted stage rapidly without much bother, edited down 2 tunes to be played, so that we wouldn’t have to cue the tracks up during the performance and went off to get suited and booted for the performance, smooth.

Joe found out that it wasn’t just a gig he was going to watch and became the night’s AV engineer. He did an excellent job working with helpful translators so that Punjabi and Urdu songs could be projected in time with the singing and not by pure guesswork.

The gig went smoothly except for a numpty man who turned up with a poorly mastered CD at the last minute. He insisted on fiddling with the sound desk and made his whole act turn into a cringe worthy embarrassment as he insisted on turning up the CD when it was obviously clipping, actually moving knobs on the sound desk himself to make it worse, and making a horrible sound. Then for the second track, demanding a loud volume, then standing there in silence for around 30 seconds, rabbit in headlights style making cryptic hand movements and asking stupid questions like “has this mixer got any special effects on this track?”???? as if it were my fault. No mate your track just sounded as it would in any CD player, if you don’t like it, why did you want it played in the first place? Until some enthusiastic musicians leapt in so he could sing a little and feel better about himself. An Asian equivalent of John Betjeman perhaps? scorning something as horrible, only to desire to change it and inadvertantly ruin it further.

The nuts and bolts of the event were that people caught the vision of what Youth Tunez was and got to know each other a bit better, and this was achieved over food, excellently explained by Michelle’s brother Hanook, “well, this stuff is rice and the things in the rice are peas” and so on, Rebecca sorted me and Joe out with a less patronising picture of what we were eating and it ended up being Hanook who struggled with his dinner finding the curry far too hot. Joke.

We packed the car and headed off down the road for one mission only, to get home. But I reminded Michelle about our primary task and we turned into Aylesbury Crescent and got our photos, not much time for sight seeing as it was 11'o'clock at night and we were all tired and were busy analysing the event.


Note, this is the first Aylesbury that I have gone to see with someone else, therefore I am actually in the photo as Joe, not only acted as AV assistant, roadie, audio engineer but also moonlighted as a photographer on my camera phone. I initally experimented with taking pictures of Aylesburys with me in the photo but the results were gruesome and dodgy, me squinting into a camera or doing the bad, 'this shot is taken at the end of my arm' (which I suppose all photos are to an extent, in that you need a finger to press the shutter button) but you know what I mean.


2 days later, projector missing, help!

£1000 piece of equipment, gone

Nowhere to be seen

Not in church, my garage, or any car

No one remembers it going

No relative has it,

One place left to look.

Baylis House, Slough

The journey to Slough is rapid when combined with an anxious driver and a racing mind, one comment punctured the atmosphere, “There’s a sign for Amersham road, do you want to take a picture of that?”. She clearly missed the point of the whole journey, so projectorless we left Slough for a second time and wondering where or who is now benefiting from a new toy. Rock bottom. More details to follow.

Aylesbury Ice Cream

Well, things have been quiet, quieter than a gnat, a dead gnat, a dead gnat wearing slippers on a shag pile carpet, in a padded cell, on the moon. However please don't see this as a cop out. Although I have not been visiting Aylesbury's recently, scuppered by my inability to pass a driving test and having no money to travel by train. I have been planning trips and scheming plans and I am always on the look out for a link.

An interesting coincidence happened at the International Youth Alpha Conference at Holy Trinity Brompton. Rich "the mighty Cucumber" Turner and myself were on the way home, or back to a friends house after a cracking worship session, very tired from the day's many seminars and great talks from the guys from Youth for Christ and Soul Survivor. We were loitering in Harrod's (surely it should be renamed Al- Fayed's) shop front, gazing at the display, and capturing footage for a future VJ set, when we happened upon the closed entrance to Knightsbridge tube station. We were not perturbed by this interesting situation and were just about to carry on up the road, when we were approached by three South Africans. They identified us as safe people as we were carrying the folders from the same conference that we were also at. Thinking about it, even if they weren't from the same conference as us, they probably would have approached us, as the folders were pink and yellow and probably made us look quite camp. We all wondered down Brompton Road having a chat together about the day and about where we all came from, they were from Durban and found out we were from Aylesbury. They soon realised that they were in infamous company as in South Africa, Aylesbury is a frozen yoghurt chain of stores and they had partaken of this said foodstuff! It was a truely amazing co-incidence, that out of a random meeting a certain camaraderie was formed over icecream and broken tubes. Fantastic, I instantly felt a bond with them. Sadly as I am only half good at networking, I did not get any contact details from them, I suppose that should be called netting, getting to know someone slightly but then not working to contact them again, as it doesn't work. But I shall now aim to get to South Africa at some point to sample this amzing food stuff. Perhaps an Aylesbury menu is emerging

Aylesbury Duck

....

Aylesbury Ice cream

Aylesbury's Christmas carol

I also noticed a great mention of Aylesbury on Blackadder's Christmas Carol. Worth a read and a laugh, here's the screne its in and I found it on this website.

http://paul.merton.ox.ac.uk/filmtv/blackadder.html

[Inside, Queen Elizabeth I and Nursie are tearing apart coloured- paper chains. Edmund enters, carrying the curtained portrait.]

Edmund: Good morning, Your Majesty. Christmas again, eh? What joy. [puts the portrait down] Don't you just love it?

Elizabeth: No -- I hate it! In fact, I've just abolished it.

Edmund: I'm sorry...?

Elizabeth: I ought to block up the chimneys, burn all the crackers, and kill anyone I see carrying a present. [looks at the portrait]

Edmund: Oh. [lifts the portrait and prepares to leave]

Elizabeth: [points at portrait, speaks demandingly] What's that, Edmund?

Edmund: This? ... It's a window...

Elizabeth: A window?

Edmund: Yes, but you seem to have one here, so, sorry to disturb you...

[exits, leaving her baffled (Nursie just grins brainlessly)]

[Outside, Edmund hands the portrait to Baldrick, who holds it from the bottom, so it covers his face. Edmund closes the door, and pulls open the portrait's curtains.]

Edmund: Well, so much for that. [punches the Queen's face in the portrait; his hand goes through the canvas and hits Baldrick's face. He then motions to Lord Melchett, who approaches] Ah, Melchett! Greetings! I trust that Christmas brings you its traditional mix of good food and violent stomach cramp.

Melchett: ...and compliments of the season to _you_, Blackadder. May the yuletide log slip from your fire and burn your house down.

Edmund: I'm glad I saw you -- I feel it only fair to warn you that the Queen has banned the Christmas, so I wouldn't get her a present this year.

Melchett: Oh, I'm indebted to you for that advice, Blackadder, and I shall, of course, follow it to the letter, the day I get my brain replaced by a cauliflower. [exits]

Edmund: [claps his hands once] Hah! Got him with my subtle plan!

Baldrick: [lowering the portrait finally] I can't see any subtle plan.

Edmund: Baldrick, you wouldn't see a subtle plan if it painted itself purple and danced naked on top of a harpsichord, singing "Subtle Plans Are Here Again." It's what we call a double-bluff. Melchett will undoubtedly do the opposite of what I tell him, go and get an enormous present, give it to the Queen, and then [runs his finger across his neck and makes a quacky noise].

Baldrick: What, he'll turn into a duck?

Edmund: Yes... [walks off; Baldrick follows, with the portrait]

[In the throne room, Nursie continues to tear apart paper chains, while Elizabeth is looking out the window.]

Nursie: Pity about this, Tinkywink. You always used to love this time of year.

Elizabeth: [turns round; she is fondling a Christmas pudding] I know -- leaving a little mince pie and a glass of wine out for Father Christmas, and then scoffing it because I was a princess and could do what I bloody well liked. [sits in throne]

Nursie: ...and wondering if your father's wife would last until Boxing Day without having her head cut off.

Elizabeth: We knew; if he gave her a hat, she'd probably be all right.

Nursie: Happy days...

Elizabeth: Yes... Maybe I was a little rash...

[Edmund and Melchett enter and bow.]

Elizabeth: Ah! Boys! Welcome back! [hands the pudding to Nursie] But, Melchett, what have you got under your coat?

[Edmund raises his eyebrows, smiling slyly.]

Elizabeth: [demandingly] It's not a present, is it?

Melchett: A present, Majesty? but of course! [reveals a crown; mutters to Edmund] You're so painfully transparent, Blackadder.

Edmund: Am I...

Elizabeth: Oh, that's fab!!! I _love_ presents!

[Edmund rolls his eyes, unhappy about the Queen's wishy-washiness.]

Elizabeth: [to Melchett] You know, for a moment I took against Christmas, but I'm completely dippy about it again. In fact, I'd like to marry you! ...if you weren't as unattractive as a giant slug!

Melchett: [laughing] Oh, pish, Majesty!

Elizabeth: But, anyway, to reward you, I'm going to give you _lots_ of presents! Um, fancy a castle?

Melchett: Well, Windsor, Majesty...

Elizabeth: ...title?

Melchett: Duke of Kent?

Elizabeth: ...anything else?

Melchett: Well, a devilish saucy wife would be fun.

Elizabeth: [thinks] Lady Jane Pottle!

Melchett: Oh, yummy!

Elizabeth: I think she's Blackadder's girl at the moment, but that doesn't matter, does it, Blacky...

Edmund: No, of course not, Ma'am... and perhaps Lord Melchett would like to whip me naked through the streets of Aberdeen...

Melchett: Oh, I don't think we need go that far, Blackadder...

Edmund: Oh, too kind...

Melchett: No -- Aylesbury's quite far enough.

Elizabeth: Super. Well done, Melchy. And, now, Blackadder, what have you got me?

Edmund: Erm...

I'm off to Bedfordshire

Bedford in the summer is a very pretty place around the edges. The middle still is suffering from the 60's and 70's architecture. Bedford has become a mini Poland, since the country's membership of the EU. This has resulted in a wonderful new dimension to the town's colourful history which has seen many twists and turns throughout the years. It's role has changed over the years, the rebellion of the Lord which resulted in the destruction of Bedford Castle, the reaction to the english civil war and the haven created for the BBC and a Polish regiment during World War Two.
Of course roughly a mile to the east of the town centre is Aylesbury Road, not a road to Aylesbury but part of an estate with many pretty trees and some well kept bungalows and semi detached family houses. Also there is Aylesbury Court, a 70's block of flats that still seems to be kept in good condition.
Nearby, Italian style cafe serves good food at reasonable prices; just the place to grab some breakfast. The best joke I heard all day, although quite lame, was a lady sitting in a wheelchair with her husband by a bench. Another old lady sat down and asked the lady in the wheelchair "have you got a parking ticket for that?". Both laugh.

Ashford Ducks

Well, on Thursday I made a trip to Kent to have a look at another Aylesbury, this time in Ashford, just off Juction 9 of the M20. I went on my bike again, this time fitting well into the back of a hired car, that my Dad gets every time he goes southwards. We hit Ashford about 0900 and I made quick progress to Aylesbury Road, a typical Barrett style housing estate in the North of Ashford. It quickly became apparent that this Aylesbury road had its name originate, not from the town of Aylesbury in Buckinghamshire, but from the creatures that origninate from there and make its football team famous. Other roads in the area included, Muscowy Road , Dunnock Road, Siskin Close and Snipe Close, all birds. This is my first duck related Aylesbury and it felt good to see.

Having found my Aylesbury of the day, I set about cycling to Dymnchurch where I was to meet my Dad. I went first to the tourist information centre, by the church in Ashford to find a map as like before I had forgotten mine and found a 'Cycle maps of Kent' map, which was very useful. Having paid for it I set off, only to return to the shop 10 mins later, realizing I had forgotten to take the map with me. My second attempt was better, if not frustrated by the fact I didn't know where I was and therefore had no refereence to start from, so cycled around lots of roads to find road signs telling me where I was going and therefore indicating which junction I was on. Eventually I found a suitable road and set off down it. After about a mile I found the correct gate across the rail track and to a footpath which was marked on the cycle route. This footpath lasted all of 4 metres, then became thick brambles, stinging nettles and thistles. I used my bike as a scythe and pushed it through the vegetation for about 100 metres until I emerged, covered in green and stung many times and with lots of thorns stuck in me. Having removed all of them, I carried on along the other side of the hedgerow to avoid a situation like that happening again and found the road where I expected it to be. From there, my cycle to Dymnchuch was very pleasant and I met a very helpful farmer on the road who advised me the best way to Dymnchurch. I saw the Royal Military Canal and the monument at Bilsington to the philanthropist Lord of the manor, sadly a dying breed in British culture, probably as the lot of the common folk has improved through government intervention and those previous generous souls. The rise of the corporation with faceless shareholders has caused much industrial success to be refocussed upon making more profits, rather than the accrueing of wealth and then giving it to those that need it, the so called, 'trickle down effect' of liberal economics.
I arrived in Dymnchurch at around lunchtime and sat eating freshly caught fish and recently fried chips on the beach with my feet in the sand and the sun on my face, glorious. I sat and read for a while and went to inspect those extraordinary defences, the Martello towers, when I realised I was dropping off to sleep. I made my way to where my Dad worked and chatted to his colleagues about my preoccupation with Aylesburys while he finished off for the day and then returned home via one long traffic jam.

Aylesbury or Salisbury?

Last week I visited, rather naively two Ailesburys, without knowing whether they origniated from the original place or not. Why has the road not been spelt correctly? Why is it not rationalised with the common spelling? I asked the same question about it and this week have looked in various places to find out.
My initial research into the place found this snippet of information.

"Old English words, such as burh "fortified place", were occasionally added to Celtic names in the same way. Thus the Romano- British form of Salisbury (Wiltshire) was Sorviodunum. The earliest forms of Salisbury refer to Old Sarum but, when the move to the present town took place, the old name was retained. The meaning of the first element of the Celtic name is unknown, but the second means 'fort'. When the name was borrowed, this second element was repleaced by Old English burh a word having a similar sense, and it has early forms such as Searobyrg and Searesbyrig. the latter is however the one which has survived, but a change of the first r to l took place due to Anglo - Norman influence, hence the modern Salisbury. The present form of Old Sarum itself is due to a mistake. In medieval documents it normally appears in the Latinized form Saresburiensis, often abbreviated. The abbreviation used for -resburiensis was the same as that often used in Latin for -rum."

Kenneth Cameron (1961), English place names, (London, Batsford (1977) p36.

So, could it be from the change in letter in the word and the abbreviation that the Ailsbury emerged from Salisbury? I thought it unlikely, so looked online to find out more about the history of the roads themselves. Ailesbury Close revealed little, Ailesbury Way did in this site.
This simply says "Ailesbury Way , After the Marquis. The spelling is correct in this context".
Now, who was the Marquis of Ailesbury?, well there have been lots of them and they used to own lots of land in and around Burbage, up to 37,993 acres, and taken Marbles from greek temples, (another one of their titles was Earl of Elgin). The Marquesses of Ailesbury got their title from the Earls of Ailesbury, who had their title since 1664, after the Protectorship of Oliver Cromwell, land was re-allocated. Now the important stuff, where did the tile 'of Ailesbury 'come from? Well it turn out it is from Aylesbury, Buckinghamshire, like all the others. The original Earl of Ailesbury lived in Ampthill, near Aylesbury. Incidentally the earliest "of Aylesbury" I could find was from 1188, a David de Ailesburi from Lipscomb, (1831) History and Antiquities of the county of Buckingham, Vol 1 p244.
In 1182 he helped with the prison, by repairing it, very helpful chap!
Therefore, the Ailesbury Close of Chippenham and the Ailesbury Way of Burbage are safely Aylesbury, by a different spelling, from the Marquess who used to own the place, who had taken his title from Aylesbury originally. They still have a lot more in relation to Aylesbury than previous Aylesburys, however.

Ailesbury in Chippenham

I woke early and got a lift with Dad to Junction 17 on the M4 motorway and then cycled to Chippenham in the early morning air, fresh, but a little chilly at 15 Mph. Chippenham was just opening up when I arrived, the market stall owners had been ready for hours it seems, but the rest of the shops were setting up for the day.
I headed eastwards towards Calne as I knew that Ailesbury Close was near that junction and accidentally got lost in a housing estate. I got to Monk's Way at the wrong end and eventually found the little beauty that was Ailesbury Close nestled on the right in all its suburban splendour. I cycled up and down it and had a little look around including nearly being run over by one of it's residents. I thought this very inconsiderate from one Aylesburian to another.
My goal for today complete, I then had my most major task to go, get back to Swindon, or more precisely, Wroughton to mett Dad so I could go home.I set off in search of the Chippenham to Calne railway path and could not find it anywhere where it should have been. I even ended up in a game reserve looking for a footpath to get there. I had to resort to a strategy of going along the road until I saw the wonderful bridge spanning above my head and then climbing up the bank to get on the path. Some more signing would have been more convenient, however, once on the path I made rapid progress towards my goal and after going through a sand pit and Quarry I ended up in Wooten Bassett. This town did not live up to its name. I left promptly and got very lost in footpaths, actually ending up in the centre, half an hour after leaving, how rubbish was that! I found the canal footpath which rapidly disappears and left my following a bridle way, (not a bridal way) and ended up in some fields near Wrooughton following a ridgeway the wrong way, totally lost. The Duchess of Cornwall better sort out this path as head of the Canal and Waterways charity in charge of this stretch.
I sat down and read the paper for a bit to get my energy back. This was a disaster, I was out of water, in the middle of nowhere and time was getting on. Luckily a jogger came upon my path and pointed out to me where on the map I was. I realised my error and set about making up for it by crossing the ridgeway as directly as possible and tracking back down the other side on a quick road. I eventually made it to Wroughton, just, at around 1700 and met Dad. The secretary was probably shocked to see a sweaty dehydrated man appear at her desk. I managed to drink 1 Ltr of water in the next 5 minutes and read a bit more of the paper as Dad finished and then went home knackered and went to bed early.