Thought Id start this one going because its rather dead on this board at the moment and I suppose all my usual muckers are either at the Stella tennis event watching Dim Tim (lose again) or at Henly Regatta eating cucumber sandwiches (they wish,...NOT).

Anyway please feel free to just talk to yourself blast away and let it go on any company or subject you wish. Just wish Id thought of this one before.

cheers GF.

Just a piece I found on the net, been told its cr-p so the source does not matter. Does not encourage you to put much on here . Interesting article that Fred. :-))

I had the privelege of meeting a man called Richard Barratt, Dick for short. A true Romany who passed away on March 5th 2009 aged 77 years. Dick lived in Quendon woods for 40 years.The gentle man of the woods lived in a cold leaky hovel that he loved.He told everyone his address was'The Layby Quendon'. He would regularly walk to the Stansted village pushing a pram.
Many a folk thought he was a grandfather but instead of a baby sitting up taking in the sights there were two dogs. He was used to walking miles but sometimes his dogs might get a little tired and so he could put them in the pram. He often walked to the co-op Stansted to top up on some groceries and collect his pension. I was told his pension had been fixed up for him from some wealthy villagers.
The first thing you would notice meeting Dick was his twinkling periwinkle blue eyes. His voice as soft and modulated and he would greet you with a arm and smile.
He was humorous , compassionate and gentle and all coupled with a wealth of knowledge. Dick loved nature and animals as he thought nature was another form of religion.
Iwas told Dick walked from Nottinghamshire to visit his cousin, Queenie who had settled in a caravan in Rickling Green in the early 70s. (Near Stansted airport, Essex) Dick decided to stay in these parts and after trying various woods in several parashes, fixed on the one beside what was then a quiet country road between Norwich and London. Queenie died long ago and dick now lies beside her.
Over the years the quite road became the torrent of traffic called the A11 and the man of the woods was was known by an ever widening circle of lorry drivers who shared their sandwiches . What made everone like this happy hermit so much?
Some spoke of his melodious voice singing among the trees. Some respected his fierce intelligence. Others admired his total devotion to the Royal family, whos birthdays he celebrated in his ramshackled camp. I was told one such celebration turned into a disaster. His hovel burned down. The Royal Engineers from Wimbish barracks built him a new one out of branches and tarpaulines. Nothing to fancy. Dick liked simplicity. After another celebration he lost a gypsy knife sharpening friend who pushed his bike into the thundering traffic. He maintaned his grave on the side of the road with flowers till the day Dick passed away. The grave is still there today with plastic flowers and a cross.
I was told many years ago he pushed his wife around the village in a flower decked chair. After his wife passed away Dick was adopted by the parish. This village is a wealthy village with properties costing 750k - £5 million. Rodger whittaker (South African country and western singer - songs like now Ive got to leave old durham town etc lived a couple of hundred yards away. School children feted him on his 70th birthday. AS I said before an informal committee battled bureaucracy to win him some sort of pension payout. This man who had stubbornly shunned the civilizing efforts of his middle class admirers had his own bank account.
He was so much part of the community he was trusted to look after their houses when citizens were away. Yet all this did not dilute Dick's Romany independence.
What he chose was a world shared with birds joining his song and rabbits caught for the pot. It was the world right next to but a million miles away from the world where we live. For most of his life, Dick inhabited a corner of England swept by a tidal wave of wealth . Tumbledown cottages became mansions with four car garages and olympic swimming pools. The A11 was largely replaced by the M11 . Stansted airport grew mighty a few fields away. Dick seems to have held it all in contempt. So it was an old and crippled man he would limp the lanes to the airport to cadge meals uneaten by pampered passengers. Some nights sitting, there in his woods , Dick Barratt must of worked his way through salmon en croute followed by boeuf bourguignon and after eights. You can't help thinking he had the last laugh on the lot of us . I remember stopping in the lay by in my car and on several occasions giving him half a dozen bottles of the fine whiskey to go on his cornflakes in the freezing mornings of winter.
The devotion of his friends kept Dick alive through that bitter winter but what had happened in his birthplace , Mansfield when he was about 4 yrs got him in the end, I was told . Dick was riding on the crossbar of his Romany fathers bike when a dog lept out at them. In the crash a spoke went through the little boys ankle . It was never really right again. When Dick became seriously ill he had to be pursuaded to accept medical help, due to the infection in his feet. Addenbrookes hospital must of been the longest time he had spent under a real roof in his 77yrs. I was told DIck
immediately enchanted the doctors and nurses with his natural charm and the innate good manners that were so much apart of him. Two days later with quite acceptance he signed the consent form allowing for his left leg to be amputated below the left knee due to gangrene that had set in. The operation was successful and spirits soared in anticipation. He was loved and respected. It made me laugh when I was told the hospital radio dj visited him and asked of any requests, Dick said cheerily ''How about 10 green bottles?'' The dj , momentarily disconcerted said ''Never had that request before''. He found it and the song was played. How like Dick to choose something cheerful and the patients could enjoy and sing along to.But then, he embraced everyone. I wrote this down as I was told, on admission to Addenbrookes when he was asked about kin he responded ''Haven't got one of those - anyway , we are all family ,aren't we?''. What words . And that comment sums up the most gentle of gentlemen who saw the world , the animals , nature and human beings through very special eyes. I always felt a calming experience when I had a chat with him.A swift relapse set in and Dick passed away. I think he saw a future inside was not for him. I have photos of lorry driver tributes that decorated the layby near his hovel,'' Cheerio, mate safe journey''. There was pussy willow on the coffin they carried between the daffodils to the church. He was at home among friends.
Dick was a unique and inspirational man and I was proud to be one of his many, many friends . He was a man that never needed a key because he did not possess anything that needed locking up. No trappings of material gain to bog him down, just a genuine love and appreciation of the life he chose, and a very special closeness to nature. At the funeral they laughed out loud when someone said soap was seldom on his shopping list. They clapped theirhands when someone said he was a true gentleman. I was told it was the happiest funeral you ever saw. And the strangest. In 800 years AllSaints may have welcomed even bigger congregations , but hardly one linked more sincerely in their sadness and gladness. Dick Barratt was their real Romany friend for 40yrs. They were proud of this dishshevelled pram-pusher. People far beyond the twin parishes of Quendon and Rickling knew the gentle man of the woods who died too soon to see the blue bells bloom again around the cold , leaky hovel he loved. R.I.P Dick.

I know Quendon very well. It is a very nice hamlet sized village. I have watched cricket on the green there several times in years gone by. The singer Roger Whittaker used to live there in Quendon Hall. I had a friend who lived in the village.

Quendon hall is about a mile past Rickling house. Only about 5 miles from me Haystack. R whittaker moved out the early eighties.
The house has been restored called rickling house . The swimming pool out of interest has huge animals on the tiles of the walls that Roger had done. They must of been inspired from his South African game reserves memories. There are elephants, lions. Been in his sound recording studio a few years back, same as the day he left it . Now converted to a bungalow. You must know ugly just before Quendon and their Ugly womens institute. lol

So you would know the view well below then Hay.

Hope you watched the cricket and was not in the pub. lol

A fantastic artist Roger Whittaker -
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Tx5G9kmj-Vw

I drove back to London one night after heavy rain. The road between Quendon and Stanstead has a dip into in it and rain had collected there. As I drove through the deep puddle the water came up into the car. I was driving a Morgan and they have floorboards.

I heard that they wanted to change the name to Women's Institute Ugly Branch. That seemed to me to be worse.

My friend lived just along the road from Quendon Hall.

A beautiful house Hay, the Newport end of Quendon.

http://www.quendonpark.co.uk/88/the-history-of-quendon-hall

Something else very interesting hay - the picture in post 22003. Ten years ago if you went in the opposite direction of the blue transit in the picture is travelling for quarter of a mile there was a petrol garage on the right hand side and just past there in the wood lived Dick I have written about. The garage was knocked down and something like 6 houses were built. This left a huge problem for Dick as the garage was where you saw him walking to and from daily with a five gallon drum in the bottom of the pushchair and dogs to collect water. So if you look very carefully just behind that water well ( has no water) there is a small bridge heading to the wall . R. whittakers old house is behind that wall and the present owners run hundreds of meters of fresh water pipe through the wall, with a tap and put the bridge in for Dick to then collect his water supply daily from the day the garage was knocked down. Something nice to have done, :-))

What a truly remarkable story. Very well put dc and obviously a well loved man.

It was just opposite the garage that I used to go (redbrick cottages). I think there used to be a Chinese restaurant behind the garage. I often used to walk through bluebell woods.

3
Mar 2013
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Thanks 3m. I know where you were,Hay there are some beautiful blue bell woods in that area . Rw's old house (9 acres of garden and 15 odd of pine forrest surround it, which will be carpeted in blue bells soon, beautiful. Spectacular views of blue bells all in the forrests that run back to Stansted. A beautiful part of the country.

I thought Cameroon had a bright idea when he "promised" a EU referendum in 2015 and may have defuse part of his looney right, but it appears the electorate don't think much of his "promises".

What are his next set of promises?

Interesting for some:

Swiss referendum 'backs executive pay curbs'
Daniel Vasella, chairman of Swiss drugmaker Novartis There was outrage in Switzerland over a $78m pay off, later scrapped, to the outgoing Novartis chairman

Swiss voters appear to have backed proposals to impose some of the world's strictest controls on executive pay, projected referendum results suggest.

Some 70% are thot to have supported plans to give shareholders a veto on compensation and ban big payouts for new and departing managers.

Business groups argued the proposals would damage Swiss competitiveness.

But analysts say ordinary Swiss are concerned about a growing economic divide in the country.

The vote comes just days after the EU approved measures to cap bankers bonuses.


http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-europe-21647937

Referendums on emotive topics like that mean very little and government should ignore them. For a instance, if there was a referendum for bringing back capital punishment it would produce a huge vote in favour.