The death of the high street

High streets in this country are in a state of rapid decline; there are exceptions, of course, but on the whole high streets are not as vibrant as they once were. My home town of Holywell is a prime example, where despite great efforts, the high street is far from thriving. People prefer to go elsewhere, which is a shame as the street itself is pleasing to the eye, with a number of attractive buildings. I came across I photograph I took in the early 1980s, before pedestrianisation:

Holywell High Street in the early 1980s; this shows the Town Hall building which housed a busy Saturday market.

In this less than scientific approach, I googled for other images of Holywell High Street to match my own. I came up with these:

This comes from 1909; it is only a random image, but the it does give the impression of an economically successful business area. There is even a bike shop to the right of the image.

This one dates from the 1950s, and again the same impression of a thriving high street.

And finally an image from the 21st century, when increased mobility and the internet ensures that folk are shopping elsewhere, and the high streets become rather depressing places to be.

This was, in my memory, a thriving local electronic store; it had no chance of competing with multi-national stores on out of town retail sites, or internet suppliers, such as Amazon.

It is hard to see what future lies ahead for our high streets, and Holywell High Street in particular. Maybe they will become residential centres, with cafes, and pubs like Wetherspoons.

Sports day

The odd thing is that I have never truly left school. One way or another I have been in school since the age 3, if you count playgroup. During that time I have seen a lot of school sports days, and it is usually something I thoroughly enjoy. I came across a photograph of my first experience of Holywell High School sports day, actually this was probably the Holywell Grammar School in perhaps 1966 or 1967. Later in the 1970s I took part myself and was quite successful in the sprint and high jump events.

nani gigantum humeris insidentes: On the shoulders of giants (my Dad).

Neuadd Reichel in 1984

One of the best things about being a student in Bangor was staying in Neuadd Reichel, probably the best student accommodation in the world. In the 1980s Neuadd Reichel was a male only hall of residence, as it had been since it was built in the 1940s. When I was there it was still relatively formal, although the academic gowns worn when my Dad was in the same hall in the late 50s had gone. It was fully catered, with unlimited breakfasts (I recall aiming to be first in the queue each morning), and a decent evening meal. Sunday lunch was more formal. I still have the formal printed menus from the Christmas dinner. Within Reichel was a beautiful Junior Common Room, and a reasonable library. The rooms were spacious and mine (number 76) had spectacular panoramic views from Anglesey to Snowdonia. There was a formal full hall photograph taken each year, and they were then framed and placed on long central hallway. Here is the one from 1984:

Second row from the back, second from the right, since you ask.

The English language and Scottish politics.

I am fascinated by the politics in (and of) Scotland and have read in detailed Alex Salmond's key speech on the independence referendum that he made this week. He is undoubtedly a brilliant communicator, and maybe the figure to lead the Scots to independence. He is one of those rare politicians that everyone seems to like - he is as comfortable on the 'One Show' as on the benches of the Scottish Parliament. If, like me, you regret the possible break-up of the union then Salmond is a formidable figure bringing about undesirable change.

Let me quote from his speech this week:
A country that speaks with its own voice, stands taller in the world, and takes responsibility for its own future. Independence is about Scotland rejoining the family of nations in our own right. We can be both independent and inter-dependent: we can stand on our own two feet, while working closely with other nations, our friends and neighbours.

Salmond is a political romantic; he makes the language of separation and independence sound like embarking upon a Sunday afternoon jaunt. Just read this passage of his speech with a more critical eye and the romantic language becomes apparent: 'stands taller in the world', 'family of nations', 'independent and inter-dependent', and ''friends and neighbours'. Of course real-world governance will bring few of these things, and the opponents of independence will have to challenge Salmond far more effectively than they are doing so far. They may wish to suggest that a country on it own does not stand taller, or alone can it guarantee a better future (far from it), independence will not allow Scotland to join a 'family of nations' (whatever that means), and it is not possible to be independent and inter-dependent at the same time, and finally, no nation today can stand on its own two feet.

It is rather sad that the word 'union' is discredited. I am old-fashioned in still believing in a 'union' of peoples, whether that be the United Kingdom, the European Union, or indeed the United Nations. Each of these in different ways has brought peace and prosperity by working together in union. Not perfect, but still a union. We may live to regret the language of independence.

Nevertheless it is for the people of Scotland to decide; that in itself reflects the strength of the United Kingdom. In the debate that will precede the referendum I trust that the opponents of independence in Scotland will not underestimate the political guile of Alex Salmond.

How to stop worrying and love Google.

I don't really have an answer to that, although in fact I wish I did. Google, and the internet more generally, gives us plenty of things to worry about. And it is then possible to share and thereby magnify those worries with millions of other unsuspecting neurotics. I proudly count myself amongst their number.

Take this as an example: I realised today that I had bought an airline ticket for M (female) but on the application I put down 'Mr'. Panic set in immediately. In this age of terrorism, I imagined, they won't let her fly if the on-line booking does not match her passport. Ryan Air charge £110 to change this error; the flight cost £30 in the first place. Anyway, I do what most folk do in 2012 and googled (verb) the problem. Thank goodness... I was not alone as hundreds do the same thing and Ryan Air does not do anything about it; gender doesn't matter as long as the name is correct. Hard to believe that Ryan Air have missed this chance to make some more money. So my Google search brought comfort on this occasion.

A further example: I am planning a cycle north of Rochdale and I googled cycle routes in that area. Tales of dangerous roads and roundabouts the size of Wales were aplenty. Lots to worry about there; nevertheless, I used Google maps and that little man that walks the actual route. So on my computer screen I did a few practice runs at one of the aforementioned roundabouts and did it safely on each occasion. Cheers Google!

However, if you have something wrong with you it might be better to avoid the temptation to google the symptoms. A Google search on 'rash' led my son to believe he had a whole range of diseases, all of which were life-threatening.

Google is here to stay, but my advice is to use with care as it can be bad for your mental health. I wonder if I should look that up on Google? I will.

A Mere Century

Despite all the pre ride angst I completed the 100 mile bike ride. It took 9.16 minutes and I used up around 3360 calories. See the full details: http://connect.garmin.com/activity/143867984 The ride itself was tough with gale force winds making the first 50km very slow, and ensuring that the ride would end in the dark. In fact I have not done much night time cycling and although I had lights it was impossible to follow the route sheets. Anyway, we made it safely back to the ride HQ without incident.

The good thing about such a ride is that you can eat anything, and have huge portions without guilt. This photo shows RB and my immense treacle pudding:

I can recommend the Priest's House Cafe in Audlem, so does RB.

I wanted a photo of me at the end, but the camera malfunctioned, so all I can offer as evidence is this heavily photo-shopped image:

At the end.

And finally, the event was brilliantly organised. A great many riders took part. The route sheets is a complex thing over 100 miles as the ride has to avoid city and town centres, along with the main trunk roads. My route card had around 100 instructions so it does take some following. In the past I have made major errors and ended up cycling significantly more miles than necessary. Today I used the dual system of the route sheet mounted on my handle-bars and my Garmin Edge 500. Apart from when it got too dark to see them, we stuck faithfully to the set course.

Caerwys book re-visited

Almost a year ago we published the 'History of Caerwys since Victorian times'. I am still pretty proud of the whole thing, and even more so having read a review of it in 'The Hourglass', the newsletter of the Flintshire Archive. The publication was a team effort, as is acknowledged in this short review piece that I have scanned and include below: