Nuclear Incident - No One Hurt

"It was made clear at Essex Quarter Sessions, Chelmsford, last week, that there was nothing sinister behind the theft of 20 fuel elements from Bradwell Nuclear Power Station and they were not destined for a foreign power. Before the court in respect of the disappearance of the uranium rods, valued at £8000 were Harold Arthur Sneath, 35, a rigger of Katonia Ave, Maylandsea, and Dennis Patrick Hadley, 37, a decorator, of Dyson Rd, Edmonton. Sneath pleaded guilty to breaking and entering a store at the Central Electricity Generating Board at Bradwell and stealing the elements, and Hadley admitted receiving them. They were each bound over for five years in the sum of £100 and ordered to share the costs of the prosecution.
OPENED STORE
Prosecuting, Mr. Michael Hill said, at the time of the offence Sneath was employed at the power station. With the use of a key, and having made some prior arrangement with Hadley, opened the fuel element store and transported the elements away in a van. On November 19, police officers in the North Circular Road saw a van driven by Hadley, the steering of which appeared to be defective. The vehicle was stopped and the elements were found inside. Hadley told the officers he was taking them to someone who would buy them for scrap. Later, Sneath was seen and he made a full confession to the police. Det. Supt. S Bradbery, of the Metropolitan Police, said both men were of previous good character, and both were the fathers of four children. Defending Sneath, Lord Stormont said the fact that these were uranium rods adds an air of glamour to the whole crime. But there was nothing sinister involved, and it was quite obvious that these two men hadn’t the faintest idea of the consequences."

From the Burnham on Crouch and Dengie Hundred Advertiser, February 1967. There was also an announcement of someone's marriage but this seemed far more interesting.

Routemaster

Dear overseas based family - I took this today to remind you of home. Rumours of the demise of the traditional London Bus, the 'Routemaster' are slightly exaggerated. Mayor Livingstone kindly allowed a small fleet to remain, to service the heritage route from Trafalgar Square to the Tower of London, which happens to run right past my office. Sometimes I even look up from my computer and wave at the folks on the top deck of a passing number 15. And in a small way I'm doing my little bit for the British tourism industry, after that daft man the other day said he wouldn't let his party of American school kids come to London because of the risk. Remember potential visitors to Britain - No one has ever blown up a Routemaster. You're more at risk of falling off the back steps and under a passing taxi. Have a nice day.

Gran Canaria

OK, so now I can explain why it's been so quiet on the blog recently. We took a winter break to The Canaries. Actually it was only for a week and other explanations include too much going on at work, not enough time to play and sundry similar excuses. But at least I can show you some piccies to give you a flavour:

We went to Tenerife a couple of years back, the highlight being Mount Teide, the volcano in the middle of that island. We loved the place. Gran Canaria is rugged and attractive in its own way, particularly as we went in spring when everything was still green. But it wasn't quite as enjoyable, so here's a picture I took of a snow-capped Mount Teide, from the centre of Gran Canaria.

Don't get me wrong, Las Palmas was as charming and Spanish as Santa Cruz de Tenerife, or Malaga for that matter. Walking across the sand dunes of Maspalomas was fun, even if one had to avoid stark naked males posing on the crest of every dune. And the weather was wonderful of course, 25-30 degrees daily and full-on sunshine. The tan is only just subsiding now.
On our last night, we let ourselves go with an evening in one of the more interesting bars, helping the bar staff with a pub quiz they were preparing for another night. Lots of questions about musicals and starlets fom the forties. Right up our street. And I got to wear a wig - well it was that sort of bar, as you can see from the pictures behind our new friends!

Georgie Boy

I was sitting in the office today, working very hard as always, when my mate Bob came across this internet link. Apparently it's to the most popular screensaver in the US! If he (Georgie Boy) should happen to get stuck, feel free to kick him with the cursor and send him on his way!
http://www.planetdan.net/pics/misc/georgie.htm

Great Uncle Pharaoh

A few years ago, following online publication of the 1901 Census, some of us traced our ancestors back to the end of the 19th Century. Since then, more resources have been made available online and I’ve been delving a bit more deeply.

Pharaoh Turpin was born in February 1801, in the village of Little Saling in Essex. He went on to become the village blacksmith, married Elizabeth Turner from nearby Finchingfield and had a son, William, who also became a blacksmith.

My Great Great Grandfather – William – was also born in Little Saling (also known as Bardfield Saling.) But he moved to Steeple in Essex, working on the farm at Stansgate Abbey, near Steeple in Essex. In 1855 he married Caroline Rush and they had at least ten children, including my Great Grandfather – also William – who in 1877 married Alice Allen. They had at least three children, including William George Turpin – my Grandfather. He was known as Willie in his early years. He continued the farming tradition and in 1911 married Ethel Bridget Clark, a servant at ‘Lavenham’ in Southminster, Essex . They had three children, including my Dad – who married my Mum.

When I first made the connection to Little Saling, I secretly hoped that I’d be a direct descendent of a Pharaoh – poetic justice perhaps for my posting about Egypt in the past. But my Great Great Grandfather wasn’t a son of Pharaoh, but of Nathaniel Turpin who on current evidence seems to be Pharaoh’s elder brother – near enough! And talking of common ancestry, you may have heard of one Dick Turpin – the highwayman. He was born in 1705 in Hempstead, in that same part of Essex as Little Saling. The villages form a triangle between Dunmow, Braintree and Saffron Walden, some of which you can read about in White’s 1848 History, Gazetteer and Directory of Essex. From the comments of other online researchers, it appears everyone wants to be related to Dick Turpin!

On my maternal side, I’ve traced the Samms/Sams line back to at least 1835, and the Ministers (from Norfolk and Suffolk) back to around 1850. They were all farming families. The Samms and Turpin families would have been part of the same farming community on the Dengie peninsula for some 60 years.

My research continues. I can probably take the Turpin line back another 100 years but I’ll need to get concrete evidence of every link. It’s easy to follow false leads when several individuals with identical names, of identical age, all live in the same small area of Essex. I’ve obtained a few birth and marriage certificates but the next step will be a visit to the Essex Records Office. Fortunately, they have an online catalogue to their records, so I’ll hopefully know what to look for when I get there!

Götterdämmerung! (Twilight of the Staffords)

We were quite taken aback to receive an invitation to Ian's cocktail party to celebrate his 60th birthday - it was only a short time ago that he was still in his 40s - allegedly. Ian has been a good friend since the Gibraltar years, best man at our wedding and generally a jolly good egg.

The cocktails were tasty and colourful, particularly the Red Kiss. And we met a good selection of other friends - lawyers from his old department and some fellow alumni of the St Andrews University Club. Some more pictures may be found on the other site, but for now just concentrate on the picture behind Ian in the first photo. Painted by his own fair hand, this is our very favourite of his works. Apparently created during his "angry young man" period, it combines an exuberant expression of the bright lights and high life of the City, with a subtle undercurrent of distaste for the excesses of youth. At least, that's my opinion. And he's not being mean with the cocktails - he's just off to fill up the shaker again. Hip Hip!

Gordon Baty International HQ

Honestly, you go away for a few days and on return find the whole blogosphere changing! What with Gordon having set up a new site Gordon Baty International HQ and Simon writing far more than me about his Christmas festivities, I suppose it can't be long before Brainstawm moves into 2006....

New Year Pictures!

For a few pictures taken over the New Year, surf to our other website. For now, here's one of Molly, taken by Tony when he was let loose with our camera!

Look What The Cat Dragged In! (2)

So now the truth is out. While Kirsty, Kelly and David spent New Year in London (previous post) shivering underneath Big Ben and wishing the rain away, we went to Spain and spent New Year with Tony and Mary. Is that the makings of a suntan? But now alas we're home and- it being 12th Night or Three Kings etc - we've been taking down the decorations, tossing out the tree and sweeping up the needles. Then it's back to work on Monday. Happy Holidays!

Look What The Cat Dragged In!

Kirsty came up with that heading, so don't blame me!
Kirsty, Kelly and David descended on us last night. They came from Gibraltar and Spain to celebrate the New Year in London. And why not? The fact that it's -2 degrees outside and there's a tube strike looming won't put them off. We were all young once you know!