A dip into the past

It was often said that once you have had a taste of lorry driving for companies, you might like to buy a truck and become self employed. It was considered a natural progression to become an owner driver. I was often asked this, and my answer was always the same. I love driving a truck, I am happy to be paid to do that. I have no ambitions to own one, and deal with all the headaches that come with that. 

Half way through my driving career, it spanned 32 years, I left my job to become self employed, and hire out my services to anybody that needed a temp driver. I became my own boss and started looking for work. A one woman driving agency if you like. 

I was well known at the time, having had lots of exposure in the transport press. Magazines, newspapers, and radio all wanted stories from a woman working in transport. I was able to milk this by contacting them announcing my transition from employed driver to freelance work. A few enquiries came in and I got a start on the ladder. 

I chose my trading name, joined the local Small Business Club, and had a stand at a business convention at a posh hotel. On display were my advanced driving certificates, and those where I had attended courses for roping and sheeting, carrying hazardous goods, and working with fork lift trucks and hi ab cranes. There wasn't any job that I wouldn't train for. All good for my CV.  

Eventually I was approached by a female owner driver, she had her own truck on a Rugby Cement contract, based at Barrington near Cambridge. She wanted someone to driver for her while she went on holiday. You can't park up a truck and trailer which cost near on £100,00. It has to work, to make the repayments. 

I went to her house, stayed three days and went out with her to learn how to discharge 26 tonne of powdered cement. She had a Volvo F10 which was a smallish cab and easy to drive. Janet went on holiday for three weeks, I stayed in her house, looked after her cats, and drove her lorry. 

It worked out well. The work was Monday to Friday and I could go home at the weekends. There were four depots in the Rugby Cement chain. When the other drivers saw that I could do the job I got more requests, my diary started filling up. Eventually other work dropped off when I took on more tanker work. I was self employed for seven years. 

I bought a small caravan to tow behind my car, and use it as a base whichever depot I was working at. One day I had a disaster. Rugby Cement was pushing me to hurry up and get back for another load. I counted up the hours I had already done that day, and thought I might be able to get back within the driving time I had left. I arrived at the block factory at Pollington, eager to get in and discharge the load. One hour to get there, one hour to unload, one hour to get back. I might just be able to do it. 

I saw the gate to enter the yard. For a split second all I could thing about was hurry up, straight to the unloading point, hook up the hose to the silo, get the pressure up in the tank, open the valve, and in 20 minutes I would be out of there, job done. 

It didn't quite work out like that. In that split second I hit the gate post with the side of the trailer. Bent all the sideguard, ripped off a wheel arch, what a mess. I was devastated. I rang my depot. You know that load you had planned for me, well I won't be doing it. Luckily the accident had had not damaged the controls and I could still pressurise the tank and discharge the load.   

At first I blamed the office because they put pressure on me to hurry up, you must come back to reload. Later I had time to think about it. Hang on a minute, who's hands were on the steering wheel, not theirs. Who was sitting in the cab, I was, not them. I gave in to the pressure, it was 50% my fault. this was a hard lesson to learn. I should have said 'no' when first requested. But of course I always wanted to do a good job for the owner drivers who had trusted me to look after their lorry. 

I had to take the trailer to a repair shop in Lincolnshire and sit with it for three days while they put it right. I have to say that the drivers were great. They didn't drop me, they said, what do you think we pay insurance for. It was a relief. I carried on working there. Eventually I was getting all my work from The South Ferriby depot, which prompted me to move to North Lincolnshire. When I eventually changed jobs and went back to being an employed driver, I had to give them a years notice so they could find someone else to take my place. 

Whatever vehicle they had I could drive it.  Foden, complicated gearbox though the newer models had some of the problems ironed out. 

Mercedes. Dead easy, semi automatic, preselect the gears. There is a sad tale about this one. Harold was on his way out one morning along the M62. He had a heart attack at the wheel and the lorry ended up on it's side in a ditch. Sadly he had passed away. We were all devastated. It was a massive recovery process to lift lorry and trailer, plus 26 tonne of cement. 

Volvo. Bigger cab. like sitting in an armchair. very comfortable. 

Mr Lewis loved his ERF. He polished it without fail every weekend. Difficult gearbox but I mastered it. 

Another awkward Foden gearbox, but I mastered it. Bill Jenner let me take his vehicle to a truck show. I used it as a backdrop to set up the Lady Truckers Club stand.  

Rugby Cement at South Ferriby has been closed for a while. It was bought out by the French company, Cemex, I believe. I moved on to do agency work. 

Looking out of the window on this Tuesday Morning I see the sun has chased away the rain. The sky is blue, let's hope it stays that way for the rest of the day. 

Toodle pip.   ilona

 

Remembering our history.

That's a shame. An announcement has been made that a 200 year old brewery in Burton upon Trent is set to close next year. We all grew up surrounded by breweries. Generations of Burtonians were employed in the industry. Everyone knew someone who worked there. Here is a news report. 

Carlsberg Britvic are set to close a nearly 200-year-old brewery in Burton upon Trent with hundreds of jobs at risk. The company said Marston's Brewery could shut its doors for good, including its primary logistics operation at the site. The Horninglow Brewery in Burton upon Trent was established in 1834 and around 310 employees will be impacted by the planned closure.

Burton-upon-Trent's connections with the brewing industry date back centuries, with the firm describing its own history and legacy in the town as "iconic".

However, it said the "stark reality" was that UK cask ale volumes had more than halved in less than a decade and "this trend looks set to continue across the UK".

This has prompted me to search through my vast collection of photographs. I remember this parade of horses came to Burton in the mid 1970's. I was positioned in Derby Street, with my camera, to snap them as they went by. 

Remember when we sent our films away to be developed, and put a postal order in the envelope to pay for it. We waited anxiously for the prints to come back. I sent mine to Tripleprint, You got one large print and two smaller ones back. 

The traditional way of doing things is rapidly diminishing. Will we ever see this many horses dressed in their finery, with their decorated carriages, ever again. Maybe perhaps in the military, but not in our home towns. Times are a changing. 

Goodnight. Toodle pip.   ilona

M M G A

 Make Mondays Great Again. 

The start of a new week, who knows what it will bring. I am starting with a new video from Terry. The man with the musical talent to put a smile on anyone's face. There is a party atmosphere down in Essex. 

My weekend cat sitting has finished. I popped out in the afternoon yesterday to pick a bag of litter on Flixborough Industrial Estate. In one corner there is a factory which produces cat litter and other absorbent granules for the oil industry. When disposing of their damaged plastic and pager sacks, some of them are blown across the road onto the grass verge where I am tidying up. Enough is enough. I spoke to a fork lift truck driver and asked him to gather up the litter inside their boundary fence. I asked him if I could push any bags I found back through the fence to his side. I don't have the capacity in my red bags to take them all with me. He was ok about that. 

What's planned for today. Crafty Club, I am getting on with a new mandala, it's coming together quite nicely. A Billy dog walk later. Possibly a trip to Aldi, possibly pick another bag of litter on the way there. Edit some photo's for another blog post. 

Catch ya later. Toodle pip.   ilona

That time again

 My foraging into the world of yoootooob has thrown up this video. Dr Suneel explains his stance on this current winter habit of sticking needles into arms. I believe it started on the first of October when notifications were sent out. The regulars will be first in line to get signed up, then the stragglers at the end, like me, will be contacted to get in there quick before the window is closed. 

The intention of this post is not to sway people one way or another. My friend who is 80+ is first in line every time the treatment is offered. She says she is asthmatic and needs it. Fair enough, she used to be a nurse so makes her choice according to her personal beliefs. 

I have been called anti vaxxx amongst other things, but I assess my own choices on my own personal health situation. At this moment in time I don't need to join the herd. I will avoid situations which might bring me into contact with the coughers and sneezers. Being happy in my own isolated bubble has many advantages. I won't catch anything while alone litter picking. 

The onus should be on the individual to decide if they want to take advantage of this treatment, not on the medical establishment to round everybody up and get them to stand in line. 

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = 

                

 Sunday morning and the sun is shining. Temperatures are dropping steadily and I am not seeing many hedgehogs coming out at night. Only the odd one or two, so I guess all the fat ones are tucked away in their winter beds. I shall continue to put food out for them, just in case they should wake up and feel hungry. 

Update on Mickey. He is enjoying the good life, free from his heavy backpack. He is eating well, he sleeps in my bed with me, and when I get up he gets his food delivered and his toilet box emptied and cleaned. He can wander outside if he wants to, but usually stays upstairs in the bedroom, and in the windowsills if he wants to look out over the garden. 

The weather is turning colder and it's time to turn the heating on. My plumber will come in a week or two to service the boiler. We definitely won't be cold this winter. There is plenty of money saved in the heating pot to cover all the bills. I won't be looking for cheaper tariffs, and the Government has sent me a letter saying I am eligible for a household support payment. So all is good. A bit of forward planning means peace of mind. I shall continue to pay for gas and electricity on receipt of a quarterly paper bill, into the Post Office. 

Anyway, must dash, time to check on my friends pussies. 

Toodle pip.   ilona 

Pete knows. . . . .

 Have you found Pete? He makes me laugh. I think Pete gives a fair assessment of the news. If you want to know what's going on, ask Pete. His language is fruity, splattered with f oo c k i n g h e l l. 👴😂This is his latest report. Welcome to the Meanqueen Echo Chamber.

Toodle pip.  ilona

The French way

 Meanqueen Echo Chamber reporting. 

This is a very articulate young French lady. She explains what is going on in France, why people are rioting, and who is creating this disruptive behaviour. 

Some comments

I'm in the UK and soon it will happen here

Yes, assimilation into the culture you move into is very important, otherwise why move out of the culture you were born into? Unless , the goal is to take over the culture you are moving into .

That's why the French have been aiding them boats to come to England...

If something doesn’t happen here very soon what we’re witnessing in France will be happening here.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

Now I have jobs to do. 

Thank you for popping in. Enjoy your Saturday. 

Toodle pip.   ilona

Watching telly

 I am looking after my friends cats this weekend. I watched a bit of telly with them tonight. Who did I see on the screen, George Clarke on Amazing Spaces. It's ten years since I met George, at the presentation of prizes for Shed of the Year. You may remember I won Best Budget Shed. 

I was smitten by the gorgeous William Hardy who came to my house with the film crew. He is on this new series with George. Still got long hair and a beard, going a bit grey around the edges. 

Good memories to look back on. 

Have a good weekend. Toodle pip.   ilona

Not raining on my parade

 Brian Tamaki is direct and straight to the point. 

MY HOUSE. MY RULES.

OUR LAND. OUR RULES.

You don't walk into my house and expect ME to change the rules to suit YOU.

So why should New Zealand be any different?

You choose to come here? Then respect our laws, our values, our culture, our Christian faith and our Kiwi Way of Life.

WE WON'T CHANGE WHO WE ARE TO SUIT THOSE WHO COME HERE.

New Zealand is OUR LAND. And it's time Kiwis stood up for it!

31 OCTOBER - GET THEM OUT!

Enough is enough. It's time to take a stand against unchecked mass immigration without assimilation.

Britomart Square, Auckland

Saturday 31 October | 12PM

OUR LAND. OUR STAND.

Looking through his Faceboook page, he has a million haters of course. They smear him, use AI to alter his images, and they ridicule him. He may not be to everyone's liking, but he has a lot of supporters as well. Their political system in NZ is split right down the middle, both sides battling it out with each other, just like here and in every western world country. It's all planned of course. 

MY BLOG

MY RULES

Heading for the weekend, it's raining here, but it isn't Raining on my Parade. That's a Barbara Streisland song, by the way. 

Toodle pip.   ilona

A new adventure with Roz.

Thursday morning and I start my day by watching this video. I have been following Roz and her adventures with Winston her doggie, in her mini caravan, for a long time. Now Winston is no longer with us, Roz starts a new adventure. 

This is a feel good video. Watch to the end and all will be revealed. If you like Scottish scenery you will like this. Her video editing is perfect. I will definitely be watching the whole series. 

I was going to write a moany post this morning, about all the aggravation I am getting from the sad and very nasty travelling troll, but I can't be bothered. When I see all the nasty comments throughout social media, other people get a lot worse. 

The sun is shining. Toodle pip.   ilona

Tidying up down the lane.

 It was a 'pass' for the car MOT test this morning. That's a relief. 

I went back to Bagmoor Lane this afternoon, to pick up the second lot of leaflets which I left behind yesterday. Clambering over rocks and fallen tree branches was not easy. Those leaflets are heavy. I also bagged up two boxes of disgusting fly tipping which someone had thrown over the wall ages ago. I now need some more black bags.  I found some plastic crates which needed rescuing. 

I have done as much as I can down that Lane now, won't be going back for a while. Can you see the difference between my pile which I left yesterday, and how it's grown with todays pick added to it. 

I am pleased with that. It will be gone by the weekend. The Council usually collects on a Friday. Me picking up those leaflets has saved them a job. 

Apologies to my regular normal readers. Troll is being a pain in the arse. His head is a complete mess. 

Toodle pip.   ilona

Another sodding app

 This is weird. Batshit Bonkers Britain for sure. 

WoofWalk - A free dog walking app for everyday walks.

Your nearest dog bin, in metres, updating as you walk. It shows the closest one in metres and keeps updating while you walk. The app is out now.

A map of the stuff dog walkers actually need, built by dog walkers.

It raises money for dog charities too - pick the one you want in the app, watch one short ad first, and owners are never asked to donate.

Would knowing where the bin is actually change your route?

• Track every walkRoute, distance, pace and time, traced behind you as you go. Every walk saved to its own history.
• The nearest bin, alwaysOver 80,000 dog-waste bins mapped across the UK, with the distance to the closest one updating as you walk.

Get the low down here. 

For goodness sake. JUST WALK THE DOG and take some poo bags with you. Carry the full bags until you come across a bin, make your deposit. Or take your bags home and put them in your own bin. 

An app for dog walking. Don't forget to take your phone with you. Please, just enjoy the walk with your dog. Leave your screens at home. 

My beautiful Ford Focus passed the MOT test by the way. It's a gudun. 

Toodle pip.   ilona

Tarting up the town

 Looks like North Lincolnshire Council has some money to spare. They must have got a grant for making this pedestrian area look more attractive. I'm not sure it matters what it looks like, not many people walk through it. The Town Centre is at one end, and Church Square with the Council Offices, a college building, the Arts Centre, is at the other end. They have spent money on building a new office block and cafeteria, so I suppose this new project is to get people to walk past it, and maybe stop for a meal. 

We have an abundance of empty shops like most towns have. These need to be filled, to bring people back into the town. But, we have enough vape shops, barbers, nail bars, and cheap plastic import shops.  

Are they going to plant a tree right in the middle of the green garden. If they are going to use real grass and real plants, I can't see that lasting very long. And where are the benches to sit down? Probably best not to have any seating. We have a lack of toilets in the Town Centre. Maybe they could let the bushes grow to a decent size which would give some shelter for those who like to squat. I can't feel optimistic about this project. Once the work has been done will anyone will look after it. We shall see. 😛

Raining this morning. Now taking the car to the garage.

Toodle pip.   ilona

Car full.

I was only going to pick one bag of litter today, but things never work out just right. I headed off down Bagmoor Lane to tidy up the Car Park at the bottom end just before the Horse Riding place. There are several pull ins along the lane where people park to take their dogs a walk. I'll just stop here and see if there is any litter along the grass verges. There was. I ended up walking most of the lane with my trolley. It was nice and quiet, very little traffic. There is a farm and a chicken factory along there. Oooh look, I wanted a new set of headphones. 😁

Well blow me down, what have I found here. Two boxes of dumped advertising leaflets. Someone couldn't be bothered to walk around and stick them in peoples letter boxes. I left these behind to pick them up another time. They come from a shop in Doncaster.  Technically these are fly tipped, but if I report them to the Council it will take them ages to find them so I may as well move them myself. 

A bit further along the lane I came across some more leaflets. These are from a shop in Scunthorpe. I picked these up and put them in my car. To be left with my bags at my collection point. 

I drove a bit further to the Car Park, and filled a second bag with litter there. Car is now full, and I need to go home. There is a football, broken plastic storage box and lid, two plastic containers, 14 glass bottles, and two nitrous oxide cannisters. 

The Council cleared  this area today, and now I have gone and filled it up again. 😈

Now I have to empty my car ready for the MOT test tomorrow. 

Toodle pip.   ilona

New cat

 I didn't feel like writing a blog post yesterday, my mind was elsewhere. Mickey cat was at the vet. I dropped him off at 8.15, had to keep busy until I went to pick him up at 4pm. I kept thinking I hope he is going to be alright. 

His fur has slowly become more matted over the last year or so, and he was unable to clean himself properly. It must have been uncomfortable for him to carry around that heavy load on his back. His claws needed trimming as well. So I decided to get him sorted out. At 20 years old I was worried that he might not survive the anaesthetic. The vet warned me about that. He was not going to let them touch him without it. So I spent all day worrying about him. 

 This is a photo of him from August last year. 

It was such a relief when I picked him up. He got through it, they had to bath him after they had removed all the excess fur, and he ate the food they gave him. So all is good. He is a new cat. I took some photo's but he wouldn't keep still, so they are a bit fuzzy. 

Now he has the slender body of a young cat, his tail is skinny, and he moves around much more easily. He sleeps, eats, and has his litter box upstairs. He can go outside if he wants to, and often goes into the garden for a couple of hours late afternoons. 

The cost? £440. He did have a couple of appointments for his nails to be trimmed  before this, but he attempted to bite the vet, so they said they could de-mat him at the same time if they could sedate him. 

I don't have pet insurance, I keep money aside for any treatments they might need. This is something people need to consider if anyone is contemplating getting a puppy or a kitten, or adopting an older pet. Throughout the animals life it could become very expensive. 

Now I can relax. I have to get the car ready for it's annual MOT test tomorrow. 

Thanks for popping in. Toodle pip.  ilona

A look at Kirton in Lindsey

I took a few photo's as I was wandering around Kirton yesterday. I had a couple of hours to fill until the Exhibition closed and I could pick up my picture. First of all I called in the Charity Shop to say hello to the lady who runs it. I had met her twice before, once at a Craft Fair, and once in Lincoln town centre. I browsed the clothes rails in her shop and chose a very nice long sleeved top. Then I went back to my car to change into my walking boots. 

I'm sure this building must have some history because it is on the playing field right next to the children's playground.  I can't find anything about it. Looks like it is a private house now. 

St Andrews Church. Locked today. I went to a Christmas Eve midnight mass here many years ago. 

This house looks like no one has set foot in it for a long time. Even the path to the front door is overgrown with weeds. 

Right next door is the Baptist Church. 1663 on the stone over the door. 

I decided to go and take a look at the Railway Station. The last time I was there, many years ago, someone was living in it. I didn't take a photo this time. This is a photo I took in 2013. The front garden is now full of bushes and trees. You can't see much of the house now. 

I was pondering which way to go next to make my way back to the town. A kindly young man asked if he could help as I studied the map. He showed me the way to a footpath which would cut a lot of road walking out. I set off across a field. As it came into Kirton it took me into a new housing estate. Some of it was finished and the houses were occupied, around the edge they were still building it. Can you see the Windmill hiding behind the trees. 

There you go. The countryside views are being lost behind mountains of concrete and bricks. 

I can't see any affordable homes here for first time buyers or young families. They are mainly detached and semi's. 

Don't worry though, they are all being fitted with ugly heat pumps. 

When I got home I made a lovely omelette. Underneath this lot is a slice of wholemeal seeded bread. I chopped up some spring onions, and added some pasta salad which needed eating up so chucked that in as well. A spoonful of beetroot chutney gave it a nice flavour. 

I will just put a note in here because I am getting a bit concerned about the mental health of my troll. Their comments are becoming quite bizarre and don't make any sense. They seem to be going off the rails and heading for a breakdown. I suggest they get some help. Maybe speak to a counsellor. 

Toodle pip.   ilona